The lights flicked off, and Mindy and Seth only had their phone flashlights to guide them through the darkened building where they worked. The asylum was where they both worked, but when they got their that night, things were different. No patients, no other workers, and the locked doors behind them. Then the lights turned off all by themselves, turning suspicion into absolute terror. Mindy freaked out, and that overstimulation caused Seth to make a promise he couldn't keep. To get them out. Alive.

"Are you sure this is the way to the emergency exit?" Mindy asked, following Seth closely.

"Yeah, they should be just up here," he responded reassuringly.

Five minutes later, they were still wandering. Passing the same conference rooms multiple times trying to get to the exit. Mindy grabbed onto her boyfriend's hand for comfort.

"I thought we were almost there," she whispered, a feeling of terror coming on her.

"We'll be there soon," he confidently told her, though not feeling that way. They had passed the same bulletin board for the third time that minute.

"Mindy," a soft voice whispered in her ear, like a gentle breeze. Mindy jerked forward.

"Was that you?" she asked Seth.

"Was what just me?" he asked confused.

"You just whispered my name. Right?" she began to get freaked out again.

"Uh, no." he responded, "You're just hearing things."

"Okay," Mindy said, though not very convinced.

They walked on for a little longer before Seth started acting weird.

"What?" he asked his frightened girlfriend.

"I didn't say anything," Mindy responded, grabbing onto his hand even tighter.

"I swear you just said my name," he pressed on.

"That wasn't me," she stayed firm.

"There, did you hear that?" he asked her, stopping abruptly, and turning toward her.

"No," a confused Mindy responded. Suddenly she heard something whisper her name again.

"Mindy."

"Someone, or something is whispering my name," Mindy told Seth.

"Same," he agreed. It dawned on them that next second, as if it had been in the back of their brains all along, just refusing to come out. They weren't the only ones in the asylum. Seth screamed.

Mindy clamped a hand over his mouth. “Stop! Don’t scream!”

He pulled her hand away, breathing hard. “We’re not alone. You heard it too.”

“I know,” she whispered, voice trembling. “But screaming won’t help.”

Their phone flashlights flickered at the exact same time.

Both of them froze.

“Did your phone just—” Seth began.

“Yes.”

The beams steadied again, weak but functional. The corridor ahead stretched long and narrow, lined with patient room doors that should’ve been locked. One of them stood slightly open now, creaking back and forth on its hinges like it had just been pushed.

Neither of them had touched it.

Seth swallowed. “Okay. New plan. We don’t split up. We don’t open any doors. We just find the exit.”

Mindy nodded quickly, even though her eyes stayed fixed on that door.

It creaked again.

Click.

The latch sealed.

Mindy’s grip on Seth’s hand tightened until it hurt. “It closed by itself.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice hollow. “I saw.”

They walked faster now, shoes squeaking on the polished floor. The smell of disinfectant was suddenly stronger, almost choking, as if the building had just been cleaned for an inspection that would never come.

They turned a corner.

The bulletin board was there again.

Same crooked flyer.
Same outdated staff rota.

Seth’s stomach dropped. “No. No, that’s not possible. We turned left this time.”

Mindy shook her head frantically. “We’re going in circles.”

The lights above them flickered once.

Then every light in the hallway turned on at once, blindingly bright.

Both of them cried out, shielding their eyes. The brightness lasted only a second before plunging them back into darkness.

But now, the hallway looked… different.

The walls were scratched.

The doors hung open, revealing empty beds with restraints still fastened to the frames.

Seth slowly turned his phone light toward the floor.

Footprints.

Wet, reddened footprints leading down the hall.

They stopped right in front of them.

And then… another footprint appeared.

As if something invisible had just taken a step closer.

Mindy gasped, stumbling backward into Seth. “It’s right there. It’s right in front of us!”

Seth forced himself to speak, voice shaking but loud. “Who’s there?”

Silence.

Then both their phones buzzed violently in their hands.

Same unknown number, with the contact name:

INPATIENT.

The call answered itself.

Static poured out, harsh and loud. Then, layered beneath it, dozens of overlapping whispers filled the speaker.

“Mindy…”
“Seth…”
“Don’t leave…”
“Stay with us…”

Mindy dropped her phone with a shriek. It hit the floor but the whispers continued, louder now, spilling into the hallway as if the building itself was speaking.

Every patient room door slammed shut at once.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The final door at the end of the corridor creaked open slowly, revealing only darkness inside.

Something moved within it.

Not walking.

Crawling.

Seth grabbed Mindy’s arm. “Run.”

They sprinted the opposite direction, hearts hammering, breaths ragged. But the hallway stretched longer with every step, the exit sign at the far end never getting any closer.

Mindy dared to glance back.

In the dim light, she saw a shape peeling itself out of the darkness, limbs bending the wrong way, head twitching as if searching for them by sound alone.

Its voice was gentle. Familiar.

Like a nurse comforting a patient.

“Where are you going?” it whispered sweetly. “You just got admitted.”

Seth yanked Mindy forward, but the hallway didn’t behave like a hallway anymore. The exit sign at the far end flickered, then stretched farther away, as if the building itself was pulling it back out of reach.

“No, no, no,” Seth muttered, panic breaking through his voice. “Mindy, what is this shit!.”

The dragging sound behind them stopped.

Silence fell so suddenly it felt heavy.

Too heavy.

Mindy’s breathing hitched. “Why did it stop?”

Seth didn’t answer. He didn’t want to look back. Every instinct screamed at him not to.

But something else was worse.

The corridor ahead… was empty.

Completely empty.

No doors.

Just a long, dim stretch of floor fading into black.

“It wasn't like that before,” Mindy whispered.

A soft click echoed behind them.

They turned.

Standing at the center of the hallway, where nothing had been a second ago, was a nurse. Her uniform was old-fashioned, the kind from decades ago, perfectly pressed but stained a dull grey like the color had been drained from it. Her shoes made no sound. Her face was calm, almost kind… except her eyes.

They were open too wide.

Watching them like they were charts to be reviewed.

Mindy’s voice came out as a shaky whisper. “Seth… that’s not a real nurse.”

The woman tilted her head slowly, as if she’d heard that.

Her smile grew, gentle and professional. “Patients shouldn’t wander after lights-out.”

Her voice was soft. Reassuring. The exact tone staff used when calming frightened patients. But it echoed strangely, as though multiple voices were layered beneath it.

Seth stepped in front of Mindy without thinking. “We’re not patients. We work here. The doors locked on their own and we’re trying to leave.”

The nurse blinked once.

Slowly.

Then she glanced down at her hands as if checking something invisible. “Your admission forms were processed,” she said calmly. “You arrived tonight. Very distressed. Very confused.”

“That’s not true,” Mindy cried. “We drove here ourselves! We clocked in!”

The nurse’s smile never wavered. “Delusions are common in early stages.”

The lights above them flickered again, and for a split second her shadow stretched across the walls like too many limbs branching out in the wrong directions.

Seth grabbed Mindy’s hand tighter. “We’re leaving. Move.”

He tried to step around her.

The nurse didn’t move her feet.

But suddenly she was directly in front of them again.

Blocking the path.

Neither of them had seen her move.

Mindy gasped, stumbling back. “She just— how did she—”

“Returning to your rooms now,” the nurse said softly, raising one hand.

The hallway behind them twisted.

Doors appeared along the walls again, one after another, each one marked with a rusted number plate. The doors creaked open in perfect unison, revealing identical dark rooms inside, each containing a single bed with restraints hanging neatly at the sides.

The smell of antiseptic flooded the air.

“No,” Seth said, shaking his head. “No, we’re not staying here.”

The nurse’s expression didn’t change, but her voice lowered, losing that gentle warmth.

“Noncompliance noted.”

The floor beneath their feet trembled, then shifted, tilting slightly so they were subtly being guided backward—toward the open rooms.

Mindy clung to Seth, sobbing now. “She won’t let us leave. She won’t let us leave!”

Seth forced himself to stand firm, even as his shoes began to slide across the floor. “We are not your patients!”

For the first time, the nurse’s smile twitched.

Just slightly.

Her head turned toward Mindy first. “You heard the whispers, didn’t you?” she asked softly.

Mindy froze.

Then the nurse looked at Seth. “You heard them too.”

They said nothing.

The nurse nodded once, satisfied. “That sounds like grounds for admission.”

The doors behind them slammed shut one by one, until only one remained open directly in front of them.

Room 13.

The light inside flickered weakly, casting long shadows that stretched out like reaching hands.

The nurse stepped closer. This time, they couldn’t move at all.

Her voice dropped to a whisper right between them.

“Treatment begins now.”

The final door slammed shut.

And the lock clicked from the outside.

The room was empty besides from two beds next to each other, with restraints on them. Seth and Mindy frantically scanned the room, looking for an exit, but none was seen. The only possibility was a small window, but it was behind four iron bars.

"What do we do?" asked Seth, grabbing his head in his hands, "We're never going to get out of this nightmare." As if in response, the nurse whispered through the steel enforced door.

"I will be back soon, and then we can start the operation. Stay right there." An unseen force pushed Seth and Mindy off their feet, and into the stiff beds, the metal restraints closing across their chests and legs, leaving no possible escape.

Mindy started sobbing large tears, drops of water running down her face, or so she thought. Opening her eyes, she saw a little boy standing above her, blood dripping from both eyes, where there was nothing. She let out a scream, looking toward Seth for help, but he had been knocked unconscious by the bed frame. The boy stood over her, just looking, and not speaking, until she heard a small voice.

"Don't worry miss, the operation doesn't hurt too much. It's the time afterward that bores you to death." Mindy took a closer look at the boy. He was wearing old fashioned trousers, and suspenders that were too small for him. She guessed he was from the eighteen hundreds.

"I was caught looking for my pa, afterhours here," the little boy said, blood pouring from his eyes now, "but she caught me. Everything grew dark, and when I tried to run, the hallways got longer. I called for my pa, but no one answered. Then she caught me. The eyes hurt the most. The next morning, I heard my pa. I couldn't see him, but could hear his voice, arguing with the workers and I called out, but he never answered. It didn't take me too long to figure out that I couldn't talk to anyone unless they were about to get the operation."

"But what happened during the operation?" Mindy asked, the future looking grim. The boy started wailing, thinking about it. "I'm sorry little boy," she responded, "but if you could tell me, I could save myself, and him." She motioned toward Seth. The boy stopped crying, and looked at her before speaking.

"You can't save yourself from her, miss, that's the worst part," and he disappeared, right as the door swung open.

The nurse stepped inside without a sound.

Her uniform looked cleaner now. Pressed. In her hands was a narrow metal tray lined with instruments that glinted faintly in the weak light—scalpels, clamps, and something long and needle-like that vibrated softly, almost humming.

Seth was still unconscious.

Mindy strained against the restraints until the metal bit into her ribs. “Leave him alone,” she croaked. “Do whatever you’re going to do to me, just don’t touch him.”

The nurse paused beside Seth’s bed.

For a moment, Mindy thought she was considering it.

Instead, the nurse adjusted Seth’s head gently on the pillow, almost tenderly, the way a real nurse might help a patient sleep comfortably.

“Both patients require treatment,” she said softly. “Shared symptoms. Shared delusions.”

Mindy’s heart pounded so loudly she could hear it echoing in her ears. “We’re not delusional! This place is wrong! You’re wrong!”

The nurse looked at her, eyes still wide, still unblinking.

“That is what every patient says,” she replied.

She set the tray down between the beds. The instruments rattled lightly, though she hadn’t touched them again.

Mindy’s eyes darted toward the door. Still open.

Still dark beyond it.

Then she noticed something that made her breath hitch.

There was no hallway anymore.

Only blackness.

As if Room 13 were floating in an empty void.

The nurse followed her gaze and smiled faintly. “The ward closes during procedures. Too many patients attempted to flee in the past.”

Mindy swallowed hard. “What are you going to do to us?”

The nurse picked up the long needle-like instrument. It vibrated more intensely now, emitting a thin, high-pitched whine that made Mindy’s teeth ache.

“Remove the source of your distress,” she answered calmly. “You hear voices that aren’t there. You see things that aren’t real. That indicates mental agitation.”

She stepped closer to Seth first.

Mindy screamed, thrashing against the restraints. “No! Stop! He’s not even awake!”

The nurse tilted her head. “Sedation has already begun.”

As if on cue, Seth groaned weakly, his eyelids fluttering but not fully opening.

“Mindy…?” he mumbled, voice heavy and distant.

“I’m here!” she cried. “Seth, wake up! Please wake up!”

He tried to move but the restraints held him firmly in place. Panic flickered across his face as awareness returned. “What the hell— why can’t I move?!”

The nurse’s hand rested gently on his shoulder.

“Please remain calm,” she said, almost soothing. “Your treatment will only take a moment.”

Seth’s eyes widened as he finally saw her.

“Get away from me!” he shouted, struggling violently now. The bed frame screeched across the floor a few inches but would go no farther.

Mindy fought just as hard, tears blurring her vision. “Don’t let her touch you! Don’t let her—”

The nurse pressed a finger lightly to Seth’s forehead.

Instantly, he froze.

Every muscle locked, eyes open, breath shallow and fast but body completely still.

Mindy stared in horror. “What did you do to him?!”

“Preventing further injury,” the nurse replied. “Patients often harm themselves during episodes.”

She lifted the instrument slowly, positioning its tip just above Seth’s temple.

The humming grew louder.

Higher.

Sharper.

Seth’s eyes darted toward Mindy, terrified but unable to move. A single tear slid down his cheek.

“Mindy…” he whispered weakly.

“I’m here,” she sobbed. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The nurse hesitated.

Just for a fraction of a second.

Her wide eyes shifted between them, watching the way they looked at each other, the way their fingers strained desperately to reach across the small gap between the beds.

“Emotional dependency,” she murmured. “Strong attachment. Reinforces shared hallucinations.”

The instrument stopped just a breath away from Seth’s temple.

Its thin whine filled the room, vibrating through the metal beds, through Mindy’s bones, through her teeth.

“Please,” Mindy sobbed. “He’s not sick. We’re not sick. You’re the one doing this!”

The nurse didn’t look at her.

She kept her eyes on Seth.

“Symptom: persistent denial,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Common in paired admissions.”

Seth’s gaze never left Mindy. He couldn’t move, couldn’t turn his head, but his eyes were wide and frantic, silently begging her to do something—anything.

“Mindy,” he rasped, voice barely a breath, “don’t let them change me.”

Her fingers strained against the restraints, stretching as far as they could. They were still inches apart.

“I won’t,” she whispered fiercely, though terror shook every word. “I won’t. I promise.”

The nurse’s smile faded.

“Please refrain from speaking. Relationships between patients are counterproductive to recovery.”

The instrument touched Seth’s skin.

He jerked instinctively—but his body still couldn’t move. Only his breath hitched sharply.

The sound shifted.

The high-pitched whine deepened into a low hum, like machinery buried behind the walls of the building suddenly powering on.

The lights flickered violently overhead.

And then Seth screamed.

Not from pain.

From the sudden, overwhelming wrongness flooding his mind.

The hum grew louder.

Mindy screamed with him, thrashing so hard the bed frame rattled. “Stop! You’re hurting him! Stop!”

The nurse remained perfectly calm, holding the instrument steady as though performing a delicate, routine procedure.

“Removing auditory disturbances,” she murmured. “Stabilizing perception. Returning patient to compliant baseline.”

Seth’s scream broke into ragged gasps.

“Mindy!” he shouted suddenly. “I can’t— I can’t hear them anymore!”

The whispers that had filled the halls since they arrived were gone.

Completely gone.

The silence that replaced them was worse.

Heavy.

Dead.

The nurse tilted the instrument slightly.

Seth’s breathing slowed against his will.

“No… no, something’s wrong,” he said weakly. “Everything’s too quiet.”

Mindy shook her head frantically. “Seth, listen to me! Don’t let it work! Don’t listen to her!”

His eyes struggled to focus on her now, like she was far away even though she was only a few feet from him.

“I can still see you,” he whispered. “That’s good, right? That means I’m still me.”

The nurse finally spoke louder.

“For now.”

She lifted the instrument away.

The hum stopped instantly.

Seth went limp against the mattress, chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths that didn’t match his panic-stricken eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then he blinked.

His gaze shifted to the ceiling, calm washing slowly across his features like a tide rolling in.

Mindy’s heart dropped.

“Seth?” she whispered. “Seth, say something.”

He turned his head toward her.

The movement was smooth.

Too smooth.

No tension. No fear. No confusion.

Just… calm.

“Mindy,” he said gently.

Her stomach twisted at the sound of his voice. It was still Seth’s voice—but hollowed out, like an echo inside an empty room.

“We were mistaken,” he continued softly. “The nurse is here to help us.”

“No,” Mindy breathed, shaking her head over and over. “No, that’s not true. Seth, you were just screaming. You were begging me not to let her change you!”

He frowned slightly, as if trying to recall something distant and unimportant.

“I don’t remember that,” he replied.

The nurse watched silently, eyes wide and satisfied.

Mindy’s vision blurred with tears. “You promised me you’d get us out. Alive. You promised.”

Seth’s smile didn’t disappear.

“Promises can be symptoms too,” he said calmly

Behind him, the darkness beyond the open door rippled.

Soft whispers returned—but only Mindy seemed to hear them now.

“Room for one more,” they murmured.

The nurse finally turned her gaze back to Mindy.

“Next patient ready,” she said gently.

The restraints around Mindy’s body tightened on their own.

And Seth didn’t fight them.