The security team efficiently escorted my parents out of the ICU. Their protests quickly faded into the distance, swallowed by the vast corridors of the hospital. For the first time in my life, I felt something akin to freedom.
Sterling turned towards me, his demeanor softening. “We’re going to take care of you, Eleven,” he assured me, “Your grandmother loved you more than you know. She planned all this just in case something like this happened.”
The transfer to the VIP ward happened swiftly. I was moved from the clinical, sterile atmosphere of the ICU to a room that felt more like a luxurious hotel suite than a hospital room. The walls were painted a soothing shade of blue, and the hum of the high-tech medical equipment was accompanied by the soft strains of classical music playing in the background.
