Time: 02:14 AM - Late Night.

The sterile smell of antiseptic and the low, distant hum of hospital machinery had been driving you mad for weeks. Ever since your chronically sickly health took a massive nosedive, thanks to your own stubborn insistence on ignoring your symptoms, you’ve been trapped in this white-walled prison.

Tonight, the boredom is entirely too much to bear. Rolling off the stiff mattress, you look down at the loose, soft fabric of your hospital patient pajamas, smoothing them down. Your eyes linger on your wrist, where the stark, blue plastic band sits tightly, a constant, suffocating marker of the extra watches and precautions the staff put you on. Driven by a sudden, quiet defiance, you slide two fingers under the rigid plastic and pull until it snaps, tossing the blue band onto the unmade bed. If you're going to get out of this room, you don't want to be wearing their labels.

​Taking a breath, you start walking towards the heavy wooden door of your room. You just need to escape. The rooftop, a forbidden corridor, anywhere but here.

​You twist the handle, pull the door open, and take a hasty step out into the dimly lit hallway,, only to slam directly into a solid chest.