“Hold on, Dove,” I murmured, the words a prayer, a promise. “I’m coming.”
The stairs creakedbeneath my boots as I ascended, each step threatening to give way under my weight. The air grew colder the higher I climbed, the chill biting at my skin like icy needles. It wasn’t just the cold that made my body tense, though. It was the stillness, the oppressive quiet that wrapped itself around me like a noose. Every breath felt heavier, the air thick with decay and something far worse—fear.
I paused at the landing, my flashlight barely cutting through the darkness. The beam trembled in my hand, the faint light illuminating streaks on the walls—smudges of dirt, blood, and what looked like claw marks etched into the peeling paint. The smell here was suffocating, a nauseating mix of mildew, rot, and copper. My stomach churned, and I fought the urge to gag.
Behind me, Lilith hummed softly, her boots tapping against the warped floorboards as she trailed behind with an almost playful stride. Her hands swung at her sides, her red leather jacket catching the faint light and adding a sickening vibrancy to the muted grays and browns of the decaying hospital.
“You feel that, Ash?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “That itch at the back of your neck? The little hairs standing up? That’s fear.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat felt tight, my jaw locked as I scanned the hallway ahead. Doors lined both sides, their frames sagging and warped with age. Most of them hung open, revealing dark voids that my flashlight barelypenetrated. A few were shut tight, the paint peeling away to reveal rusted hinges.
Lilith came to stand beside me, her head tilted as she studied me with a grin that made my skin crawl. “You’re so serious,” she teased. “So focused. It’s almost admirable.”
“Lilith,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “Shut up.”
She laughed, the sound echoing down the empty hall. “Touchy, touchy. Fine. I’ll be good.” But her grin didn’t waver, and the glint in her eyes told me she wouldn’t stay silent for long.
I stepped forward, my flashlight sweeping across the floor. The tiles were cracked and uneven, dust and debris scattered across their surface. Faint footprints trailed through the dirt—small, delicate. Dove’s. The sight made my chest tighten, a mix of relief and terror surging through me. She had been here. But was she still alive?
“Keep moving,” I muttered to myself, my grip tightening on the flashlight.
The sound of distant laughter drifted through the air, faint and haunting. It wasn’t Lilith’s laugh—it was lighter, higher, like the laughter of a child. My heart slammed against my ribs as I froze, my flashlight jerking toward the source of the sound. But there was nothing. Just the shadows, shifting and writhing as if mocking me.
Lilith leaned close, her breath warm against my ear. “Did you hear that?” she whispered, her voice tinged with excitement. “They’re watching us.”
I turned to glare at her, my blood boiling. “Enough,” I snapped. “If you’re not going to help, then stay the hell out of my way.”
Her grin widened, and she took a step back, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Relax, darling. I’m just here for the show.”
Ignoring her, I pushed forward, my footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. The laughter had stopped, but the feeling of being watched lingered, crawling over my skin like a thousand invisible insects. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of fabric, set my nerves on edge.
I reached a door at the end of the hallway, its wood splintered and warped. A faint light seeped through the cracks, flickering like a dying flame. My heart raced as I pressed my hand against the door, the rough wood scraping against my palm. The air on the other side felt different—heavier, charged with an energy that made my skin prickle.
Lilith sidled up beside me, her grin replaced by a look of genuine curiosity. “This is it, isn’t it?” she murmured. “This is where he’s keeping her.”
Her words sent a fresh wave of panic crashing over me, but I forced myself to stay focused. I couldn’t afford to lose control. Not now.
I pushed the door open, the hinges groaning in protest. The room beyond was dimly lit, the source of the light a single, flickering bulb that hung from the ceiling by a frayed wire. The walls were covered in graffiti and scratch marks, the remnants of some long-forgotten torment. Chains dangled from the ceiling, their rusted links swaying gently, as if moved by an unseen hand.
In the center of the room was a chair, its surface stained and cracked. And beside it, a table littered with tools—scalpels, knives, pliers—each one more sinister than the last. My stomach turned as I imagined what those tools had been used for, the screams that had echoed in this room.
But there was no sign of Dove.
“Dove!” I called, my voice cracking with desperation. The sound echoed back at me, mocking in its emptiness.
Lilith leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed asshe watched me with a mixture of amusement and pity. “You’re really falling apart, aren’t you?” she said softly.
I turned to her, my fists clenched, my chest heaving. “If you know something—anything—about where she is, you’d better tell me now.”
She tilted her head, her grin returning. “You really think I’d let you have all the fun?”
I took a step toward her, my rage boiling over. “Lilith?—”
But before I could finish, a sound echoed through the room—a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down my spine. It came from the shadows, from somewhere just out of sight.
I turned, my flashlight trembling in my hand as I aimed it toward the source of the sound. The beam caught movement—something shifting, lurking just beyond the edge of the light. My pulse thundered in my ears as I took a step back, my breath hitching.
And then, from the darkness, a voice. Low, menacing, dripping with malice.
