UNTIL DEATH UNDOES US

Silence reigned in Valtox Hospital's Ward C2.

Richard lay motionless on the stiff hospital bed, a gauze strip around his head and his fractured leg held stiff in a temporary cast. Machines beeped slowly beside him, steady and bored, as if mocking the stillness of his life. Outside, the rain ticked gently on the windowsill like fading memories tapping to be let back in.

He had barely slept in two nights. Not because of the pain — though it was there, a dull fire gnawing at his skull — but because of her.

He had seen Brianna.

Or thought he did.

First it was a flicker by the curtain. A whiff of her scent. Then, late one night, when he turned toward the door — she stood there. Dressed in the same white top and mini skirt she had worn the day of the accident, her face glowing pale under the fluorescent lights, lips trembling as if whispering his name.

But when he blinked, she was gone.

Now, every sound, every gust of wind through the window crack, every footstep in the hall—felt like her. Brianna. Watching. Waiting.

He tried to tell the nurse once. Her smile fell. She patted his hand and said softly, "Trauma plays tricks on the mind, darling. Just rest." But her eyes… her eyes held a deeper fear.

As the morphine faded and his strength returned, the dreams intensified. Not of the accident—but of before.

******************************

Flashback....

The music of high school dances. Brianna standing in a red dress beside Daniel—Richard's best friend, her boyfriend. The triangle they never spoke of.

Richard had loved her in silence. From the moment she laughed at his corny jokes. From the way her eyes looked haunted even when she smiled. He knew Daniel loved her too. They were happy.

But then came that night.

Daniel. The speeding car. The impact.

And Brianna's scream at the hospital corridor.

Richard had held her as she crumbled, her cries shaking into his chest. He remembered the promise he whispered, his fingers brushing her tangled hair:

"I'll protect her. I swear I'll never touch her that way. I promise you, brother."

But time changes oaths.

And love—true love—waits behind shattered walls.

*********************************

The hospital grew colder. More lifeless. Even the TV in the corner flickered in dull black-and-white static. Richard finally broke.

"I can't do this anymore," he said aloud. "I need to get out of here."

Miraculously, the doctors agreed.

"Your leg's not ready for long movement," one warned. "And your skull still needs monitoring. Weekly checkups. But… you're clear to leave. Just be cautious."

A nurse—Regina—helped him sit up. She had a soft spot for him, always giving him extra jello or fluffing his pillows longer than needed. She called for Danny, who arrived carrying crutches, half-smiling but clearly hiding the concern in his eyes.

"Home sweet home," Danny muttered.

But as they turned to the elevator, Richard froze.

Two hospital staff in pale green uniforms passed by, whispering:

"No ID. No records. She's been here three days… the body won't decay. It's strange."

Something inside Richard snapped awake.

"Where's the mortuary?" he asked.

Regina hesitated.

Danny frowned. "Rich, come on—"

"Where is it?" Richard repeated, voice low. Urgent. Haunted.

**********************************

They reached the basement.

The air was icy, thick with antiseptic and unsaid truths. Richard leaned heavily on the crutches, guided by Regina and Danny. She shouldn't have allowed this — but something about the look in Richard's eyes made her follow.

Drawers of the dead lined the walls.

Steel. Cold. Forgotten.

Richard didn't need directions. He felt it — like a thread tugging his chest, like static in his bones. He limped forward, past three rows, and stopped at one stretcher already pulled out.

A white sheet covered the body. Thin. Fragile. Quiet.

He stared.

His breath stopped.

Slowly, trembling, he reached and peeled the sheet away.

It was her.

Brianna.

Lying pale, lifeless.

Her lips parted slightly, as if mid-sentence. Her hair tangled but beautiful. Her skin… not rotting, not cold — but soft. Like she was asleep.

Richard's chest caved in. "Bri…" he whispered.

And then—

A tear rolled down her cheek.

One tear.

Then another.

The corpse was crying.

---

Danny gasped and stumbled back, nearly dropping his phone. Anna's hands covered her mouth in shock.

Richard could not move.

He looked into her closed eyes.

"Brianna… are you still here?"

And for the first time, he saw her lips twitch — not fully — but enough to be called a sign.

The machines around them beeped once—and died.

The overhead lights flickered violently, sputtering out like candles in a storm. For a single breathless moment, the entire mortuary was drowned in darkness.

Then—

Her voice.

Soft. Eerie. Lingering in the pitch black like perfume after death.

"I'll be back, Ricky…I'll be back."

A cold shiver snaked up Richard's spine.

Suddenly—

Flick!

The lights blinked back to life.

Richard stood—still clutching the crutches—right at the hospital corridor, near the elevator… exactly where he had overheard the nurses before. But now, no one was whispering. No strange energy. No mortuary trip.

Just Danny and Nurse Regina walking beside him.

"Hey Rich," Danny said, pausing. "You okay? You look as if you've seen a ghost…"

Richard's lips were dry. Heart hammering.

He turned slowly to Regina, face pale.

"Does this hospital have a separate mortuary or morgue section?"

Regina frowned, blinking.

"No… nothing like that. Why—why do you ask?"

Richard stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Damn it…" he whispered, pressing a palm to his forehead.

*************************

Outside, the skies were moody. A thin breeze swept through the parking lot.

Danny helped Richard into the car, crutches folded in the backseat. He turned and waved at Regina.

Regina waved back, kindly.

But high above them, unseen from below…

She watched.

Brianna.

Standing alone on the rooftop of a tall building across the street.

Her long red dress fluttered like blood in the wind. Her dark hair whipped across her face. Her fingernails—long, dagger-like. In her hand, she held a killer silver scythe, old and rusted, as if stolen from a forgotten tomb.

She tilted her head and smiled faintly.

To Be Continued...