The woman burst into another room, which was actually a long, white hallway. Sterility and a lack of personality filled the air;the woman more sensed that than felt or smelled. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, the white light leaving no shadows and strangely distorting perspective in the long hallway.

The woman took off down the hallway, pantyhosed feet padding almost noislessly down the hallway. No one else appeared. No doctors, no patients, no nurses, only her own heartbeat and ragged breathing. She ran up a nearby flight of stairs past room 103; anticipation filled her. A new round of sobs brought more tears as she hurried up the stairs and new rivers of mascara traced yet more lines down her face and flecked the walls.

She came into another hallway and still seeing noone, hurried up another flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs she came face to face with room 103. She beat at the plastic braile sign and collapsed underneath the door, her victorian dress spreading out beneath her.

Footsteps.