Chapter 10 · free to read
Two hundred and six transfers. Not one receiving hospital named. Not one family ever written to twice.
A hunger that took whatever it could reach would have taken forty in a night. This one took one, and waited a year. That was the first useful thing Ploy had learned about it.
Twenty years dead, and the face in the file could have been the girl standing over it. The hall had a type.
The ledger had been read aloud. It marked the page. And a page that has been read is a debt that has been acknowledged.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.