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    Creeaaaakkkk. I glowered at Mark. He purposely tried to freak me out. He knows I have a problem with scary stuff. That’s why he dragged me out here, to a deserted hospital in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even know why I listen to him half the time. He’s constantly coaxing me to “leave my comfort zone”. What’s even worse is he always wins me over with that smile… Is it so hard for us to just go on coffee dates like normal couples do?

“Mark, stop trying to scare me,” I hissed.

“That was just the door,” he laughed jokingly.

I shot him another menacing glare. Mark smiled innocently.

“You’re being delusional, Eddie, it was just the door.” He walked further into the building. “We’re gonna be fine, there’s nothing here.”

His boots crushed stray pieces of broken glass that were scattered across the stone tiles. Some of the tiles were ripped up to reveal dirty concrete. He looked up, noticing the overwhelmingly large skylight, stunning in it’s own decrepit way. Light pours through the broken stained glass dove that looks down on us. It’s unsettling, to say the least. I investigated the room, noticing the stairs that twist above. There must’ve been three or four floors.

“Hey, come check this out,” Mark yelled from another room.

I made my way through the intricately designed archway into an office. Mark was rummaging through old water damaged files.

“I wonder if we know anyone,” he says, arriving to a file near the back.

He pulls it out, placing it on a desk beside the file cabinet. He reads the paper aloud.

“Zoe Watson shows signs of being possessed by a demon,” he reads, “When she is in a ‘normal’ state, she claims that the demon calls himself Beelzebub.”

I point at a line, reading further into the diagnoses.

“After bringing in our head priest for an exorcism, another patient began showing the same symptoms. Refer to Georgia Raine’s file for more information.”

My hands hastily pull out another file that reads “Georgia Raine”. I skip down to the part about her possession. She was a woman who was normal for the most part, albeit a little mentally ill. She was supposed to stay at the hospital for a few weeks because she tried to commit suicide, but other than that she could function well and she wasn’t violent. When she was possessed she refused to eat, sleep, or take any orders. She attacked another patient after being told to take her pills. After spending a few nights in solitary, the demon seemed to leave. Of course, this could never be the case. She attacked another patient, injuring them severely. She was sent to solitary again. The weirdest part about the whole thing is that nothing else is logged after being sent into solitary.

We walk out of the musty office and look down the decrepit hallway. One of the walls was covered completely with three tall stained glass windows, each portraying a religious figure. Two of them are smashed. The one in the middle is in perfect condition except for one thing; two red Xs covered the man’s eyes. It was Jesus Christ.

“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself, gaining Mark’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.

I pointed at the ominous message.

“That is so creepy,” Mark replied, laughing.

We continued down the hallway, my paranoia getting the best of me. That didn’t look like paint… As we enter the recreation room, the strong stench of death fills my nostrils. I cover my nose and mouth with my t-shirt and walk into the room, the knife I had brought just in case in hand. The smashed in skylights allowed a little light to shine on the corpse of a rotting raccoon. Maggots pollute the carcass. Upon closer inspection, the animal seemed to have been ripped in half.

“I think I’m going to vomit,” Mark gagged.  

“God, please don’t,” I laughed nervously.

I look to another corner of the room; there is a rusty door with a deteriorated sign plastered over it. I moved towards it, examining the sign more closely. Blood pumped through my veins as I read the withered words “Solitary”. Mark moves ahead, opening the heavy iron door.

“Come on,” he coaxed.

I moved reluctantly into the room, still clutching my knife tightly. I felt a sharp chill race down my spine. A lump started to form in my throat as I moved passed the empty run down rooms. My mind started to race with thoughts of the souls who still lurk those same halls. Georgia could still roam these halls for all I knew. The feeling of dread only grew when all noise ceased.

“Mark?” I whimpered into the silence.

I stagger apprehensively farther into the murky hall.

Arms wrap around my body and I spin around. I sink my knife into the person behind me.

I barely had any time to think. My vision was clouded with adrenaline as I pulled the bloodied knife away. I blinked, still in shock, and shine my flashlight onto the attacker turned victim. It falls out of my hand as finally make out the familiar face that lay on the floor. I fall to my knees, holding Mark close.

“I’m so sorry,” I weep into his bloodied shirt.

He coughs harshly into my chest; blood stains the fabric. How could I have believed those files? None of it was real! He looks past me, fear written in his expression. I turn around. A bone thin woman looms over us, blood veiled over her long pale fingers. She speaks in a soft, but rough voice.

“He never left.”

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