Chapter 3: The Collision
Evelyn burst into Room 402, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes struggled to process the horrific tableau before her. The heart monitor was screaming a shrill, continuous alarm. The bed was empty, the sheets violently stripped away. And there, leaning casually against the bathroom doorframe, was Julian.
He was still wearing the impeccable dark suit, his tie perfectly knotted. His arms were crossed over his chest, and a sickeningly calm, almost satisfied smirk played on his lips. He looked entirely out of place in the sterile, chaotic hospital room.
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Evelyn froze, her medical instincts warring with primal terror. "What did you do?" she gasped, her eyes darting around the room, finally landing on a dark, wet smear leading into the bathroom.
Julian didn't flinch. He didn't try to run. He simply tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto Evelyn’s terrified gaze. "She had it coming," he said. His voice was smooth, resonant, and entirely devoid of remorse. It wasn't the frantic excuse of a criminal caught in the act; it was a statement of fact from a man who believed he was an instrument of divine retribution. Evelyn’s hands began to shake as she reached for the emergency wall phone, but Julian’s smirk only widened. "I wouldn't do that, Doctor. You really don't know who you are trying to save."
