Will title this later. Cannot think, too late *_*
It is late November and sleet raps daily against the hospital window. All around him, through the walls and down endless corridors, it robs sleep from the other patients in his ward. But he has long tired of their dreams, and he has nearly died of his own.
Moira is his only visitor. For weeks she has handed him books just out of his reach and she sits at the side of his bed keeping their secrets. Her pity is easiest to look at, and she is the only one he allows. The rest he has barred, though he knows the nursing staff and handful of security will be no obstacle for the two now furthest from him. If they find out, there will be nowhere for him to hide.
But they don’t find out.
And they don’t come.