Nobody figured it out first.
People were vanishing.
The missing persons reports started with Roxy.
She was just gone in the morning. T<
he nurses stood for a riddle.
Michael was a lonely figure, smoking outside in the small garden designated for those activities. In the psychiatric ward, there were always groups. People talking to people. Michael wasn’t lucky. The only one with who he could talk left yesterday. He returned to his room in a gloomy mood that could grow into a suicidal plan.
He took a large paper out of his desk drawer. It was filled with names in pencil.
‘They are too tight. One of them is going to have to go. I’ll erase the French-speaking one.’
He used the back of the pencil to erase the name with the gum.
‘Celine isn’t in her room. I can’t find her anywhere,’ Sophie whaled.
‘She must be here somewhere,’ answered Sandy, an excellent nurse with beautiful features and raven black hair.
They searched the entire ward. She has vanished.
‘We will have to report it to the police,’ said the head nurse.
‘There is something wrong. Celine wouldn’t run away, surely not without telling me,’ said Sophie, who was worried sick about her friend.
‘That’s two disappearances in two days. They never found Roxy. We have to tighten security around here,’ doctor Herremans said. She was the head of the department and the psychiatrist of the ward.
Michael smoked his cigarette in peace. The first one of the day. He ignored the commotion. This was only the beginning.
As long as he had the magic pencil with eraser, he could choose who stayed at the institution and who got erased.