The air in her room grew heavy with unspoken secrets. She could almost hear the recording echoing in their heads, the fragments of conversation she had not yet fully understood.
What if they reported her? What if police arrived, phone in hand, demanding answers?
Her imagination spiraled into panic. Each mechanical beep from her monitor sounded like a countdown to exposure. She no longer dared meet the staff’s eyes.
They knew. They had to know. About the phone. About the recording. About the voices.
And all Jennifer could do was wait—helpless in her bed, bracing for the moment someone would pull back the curtain and confront her with the truth she was never meant to uncover.
This rewrite keeps the suspense and pacing but smooths transitions, trims repetition, and heightens the psychological tension.
Do you want me to continue refining this into a chapter-by-chapter thriller style, so it reads more like a professional novel, or keep it closer to the original’s news-style storytelling?
Hours crawled by, each one thick with paranoia. Jennifer’s nerves stretched thin, her chest tightening every time a nurse entered the room. Even the simple question, How are you feeling?, sounded like the beginning of an accusation.
Her thoughts churned so loudly she could hardly hear her own breathing. Then, as she shifted restlessly in bed, something hard pressed against her ribs. She froze.
Her hand slipped beneath the blanket, fingers brushing against something smooth and familiar. Her breath caught. Slowly, disbelieving, she drew out her phone from where it had slid between the mattress and bed frame.