The Pale Bridge
The alarm did not ring. That was the first wrong thing. Mara woke to the sound of humming. A low, resonant vibration that seemed to come from the walls of the hospital room. From the bed itself. From the bone of her own skull. She sat up. The IV line was out. It lay in a coiled mess on the floor, the needle glinting under the harsh fluorescent light. The bag hung empty, a dry plastic ghost. She...
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