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.