Children's Ward

The hospital’s children’s ward sits at the end of an antiseptic corridor, its double doors marked with faded cartoon decals that betray decades of institutional neglect. Fluorescent panels above flicker intermittently, casting a sickly yellow glow over cots lined against chipped walls, their beds stripped down for the so-called evacuation. Overhead, thin squeaks of plastic toys dangle from rusted play structures—abandoned mid-laughter by children already removed. The air carries the antiseptic sting of disinfectant masking something older, base, and unhealthy beneath. Despite the ward’s intended role as a place of healing, its emptiness now underscores the system’s cruelty—every cancelled visit leaves another silence where care should echo.