22
I was on the night shift at the hospital the following Friday. After my rounds, as I was walking down the hall, I
heard the faint sound of a child crying.
The sound was familiar. So familiar it made my heart pound erratically in my chest. For a moment, I thought
I was imagining it.
Ever since that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about Damian and his son. During the day, I could suppress it with logic, but at night, they haunted my dreams. The Damian in my dreams seemed younger, his face still capable of a smile. But the dreams were fleeting, and I could never hold onto them when I woke. I just knew they were there.
Hearing that cry now, I pushed open the fire escape door without thinking.
I followed the sound up to the 18th floor. Through the glass window of the VIP lounge, I saw him–Damian’s
son.
He was being held by a large, powerfully built man. I recognized him. It was the driver from the parking gara-
ge, the one who had stared me down.
4/15
