After yet another patient complaint, the head doctor called her into his office.
“From now on,” he said coldly, “you’ll no longer be a nurse. You’ll work as an orderly. You’ll help bathe patients and assist with hygiene.”
“But… why?” she asked, stunned.
“The patients say you’re always on your phone.”
“I have a sick daughter,” she replied quietly. “I have to know how she’s doing.”
“I don’t care,” the doctor snapped. “Do as you’re told, or hand in your resignation.”

She had no choice but to agree.

The next morning, her first task was to wash a young man who had been completely paralyzed after an accident. He could move only his head slightly; his eyes were his only means of expression.

She helped an attendant lift him carefully into the bathtub. She filled it with warm water, added a bit of soap, and began washing him gently. The room was silent — only the sound of running water and her quiet breathing filled the space.

Then she saw something that made her heart stop.

Under the skin of his shoulder, something moved. It wasn’t a twitch — it was slow, deliberate. She froze. The skin rippled again, like something alive was crawling beneath it.

“Oh my God…” she whispered.

The man’s eyes widened with panic. His lips trembled as he tried to speak.
“Don’t… touch… there…” he breathed.

The nurse backed away in horror. The foam on his back began to fade, and then she saw them — thin, dark lines moving under the skin, slithering like living veins. She screamed and nearly ran for the door, but the man began to cry.
“Help me… please… they’re inside me…”

Her instincts took over. She pulled the plug, grabbed a towel, and wrapped him up, yelling for help.

The head doctor arrived moments later, annoyed.
“Again? Some kind of hysteria?”
But when he looked at the patient, the color drained from his face. Something really was moving under the man’s skin. He immediately ordered the room sealed and called in a biohazard team.

The next day, the patient was “transferred.” No one said where. The nurse was told to stay silent and take a week off.

But at night, she couldn’t sleep. She kept seeing the man’s eyes — wide, terrified — and hearing his voice whispering:
“Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you help me?”

Three days later, she couldn’t take it anymore. She went back to the hospital. The entire wing was closed off. People in white hazmat suits were moving in and out, spraying chemicals. When she asked what had happened, one of her colleagues whispered:
“They found tiny capsules under his skin… transparent ones. And something was moving inside them.”

Her blood turned to ice. She suddenly remembered — while bathing him, a dark drop had fallen from his shoulder onto her wrist. The spot had been itching for days.

She rolled up her sleeve… and froze.

Something was moving under her skin.

She screamed.

No one ever saw her again.

Weeks later, reports of a strange illness began to spread through the city. People complained of itching, of pain, of movement beneath their skin. Hospitals couldn’t explain it. The one where she worked was shut down “for renovation.”

A janitor later told reporters he had seen black body bags being carried out at night, along with metal containers marked:
BIOHAZARD.

And in the basement, where it all began, one light still burns. At night, faint scratching sounds echo through the halls.
And on the bathroom wall, barely visible under layers of paint, remains a pale handprint — left by the nurse who only wanted to keep her job… and instead unleashed something the world was never meant to see.