All I did was blink.

For a split second, I let my guard down and paid for it. I should have known never to walk these streets alone. But in an instant of unintentional arrogance, I completely lowered my veil of paranoia and I felt the backlash. And now here I am; I lay on the clean wooden floor of an empty room. Not a single sound disrupted the deafening quiet.
I stood up to look around. The walls were bare, plastered with a solid ivory color. There were no windows, no lights, and yet the room was bright. In front of me, there was a single, lonesome door with a crystal knob. In the dead center of the doorknob was a small keyhole. I felt around in my pockets to see if I would, by some slim chance, have the exact key to get out. But to no avail.
Someone—or something—was testing me; it was making me wait it out while it observed my movements. My eyes darted the room to check for cameras. I couldn’t explain why I knew this, but something instinctual was instructing me to be patient. When the time is right, the exit will open. When I realized this, I lost control of my body and I fell back down in a heap.
There was no telling how long I was unconscious, but it was long enough for my observers to drop a single key in my left hand. Without hesitation, I rose up from the floor and tried the key on the lock. On the first try, I heard a click and the door slid open slightly.
In the midst of all this, I felt numb. Not a single ounce of nervousness kicked in. I was not confused, I wasn’t angry. I was blank. I just kept going through the motions and walked into the next room. There was a glass table with six chairs, all a different color: white, blue, orange, pink, red, and green. There was a leather-bound notebook in the middle of the table, open to a blank page. I sat down in the white chair and turned to one of the previous pages.
There was a list of words I did not understand scribbled on a random page I turned to. It read:
1. Flurazepam—
2. Triazolam—
3. Moban—
They sounded like medications, but the places where dosage numbers were supposed to be were covered in scribbles. The letter N in the final word had a long line going down the page, as if whoever wrote it dropped the book mid-writing. There was no pen nearby… The book was all alone, the only object on the table. Something compelled me to shuffle through the pages for a little while longer. I flipped to the back of the book, and a message on the next-to-last page caught my attention:
MAKE THINGS RIGHT.
What appeared to be a keycard was taped under it. I yanked it from the page and put it in my pocket. Not soon after I began moving involuntarily. I soon found myself in front of a metal door I didn’t notice before. There was a keycard slot to the left. There were scratches all over it, along with what appeared to be dry blood.
It made me cringe a little; whatever was in there wasn’t friendly. Regardless, there was nowhere to go but onward. I reached into my left pocket for the card but it was gone. I checked the other pocket and there it was. It seemed to have migrated from one pocket to the other.
What was in the next room startled me a bit. Every inch of every wall was covered in moving picture frames. I approached the northern wall and began to realize who was in these pictures. Every image contained five people: a little boy with an orange shirt, two girls in red and green shirts, a woman with a pink blouse, and a man with an white jacket. Their faces were blacked out by markings in the shapes of fingerprints.
One of electronic frames shifted to a different picture. It was the one in the corner at eye level, and changed to a dark shade of red. I approached it cautiously. This was the exact moment when I began to feel uneasy. I stood in front of the frame, giving it a thorough look-see. There was a switch in the lower right corner of the frame. I pressed it.
It crashed to the floor, giving way to a rectangle-shaped hole in the wall. It was about a foot deep. I placed my hand in it and felt around for the next obscure clue they presented me with. I felt what seemed to be a manila envelope; the texture gave it away.
It contained a bunch of syringes, a clipboard, a rainbow of unidentifiable pills and a locket. This perplexed me. What was I being told? What did any of this mean? I pulled the locket out of the folder slowly. When I opened it, there was a small, round picture inside it. There were two people in the image with their faces blacked out as well. One person looked distorted from some sort of stain damage on the picture, as if water leaked into it.
“Do you remember anything at all?” A voice asked in a rather frightened tone. It sounded like a teenage boy. The voice was so familiar but I couldn’t quite figure out where I heard it from. “Don’t you remember what happened?”
I looked all around the room, but the voice seemed to be coming out of thin air; one by one, all the frames faded to white. A frame near the doorway crashed to the floor, its glass screen spilling all over the hardwood. Among the pile of shards was a key with a rubber grip on it. There was a logo on it that looked like the design for a car brand.
“North.” The voice interjected. “I’ll see you there. Maybe I can refresh your memory.”
I grabbed the car key and returned to the room with the table. The first thing I noticed was that the door to the first room vanished. A hallway was there to take its place. I proceeded swiftly down the hallway, and down a flight of beaten-up concrete stairs.
There was a car waiting for me; it was a grey sedan with the passenger window broken in. I approached it slowly.
When the coast was clear, I put the key in the ignition and pulled out of the asphalt driveway. There was a one-way road in front of me. The only direction to go was forward. Oddly enough, there were no other traffic signs or lights other than the ‘ONE WAY’ which didn’t look like the normal one-way signs I was used to. Instead, it was written in crude handwriting as if a child scribbled it down and stapled it to a wooden post.
Regardless, I drove forward, unaware of what horrible things were up ahead.
---
The road was generally straightforward. There were two small roads, each branching off to the left and right respectively. I was told specifically to go north, but I felt the need to disobey; I wanted to go down a different road, just for the sake of seeing what would happen because of it. Something in me told me to break the rules.
I took the road to the right. Driving slowly and cautiously, I made sure to brace myself for the absolute worst. The road was completely dark. I could barely see five feet in front of me, even when I turned the headlights on. The sky turned blank, as if it was erased or popped off, like a lid unable to hold the contents of its container. I disregarded it and continued onward.
It felt like I was driving for about a half an hour with seemingly no destination in sight. The road I drove along gradually dissolved, and everything around me shifted to pitch black. For several more minutes, I blindly pushed forward, driving a little faster with each passing moment. It eventually got to a point where the speedometer reached the triple-digits, and anything popping out of the dark was going to get a rude wake-up call. Then, that’s when it happened.
The car instantly came to a stop, in front of a little boy on an old bicycle. The bike was severely dented, almost inoperable. Then, the little boy turned to me as I sat in the car, helpless. I looked at the gas tank: empty. He had a slew of scars carved across his face, and both of his eyes were bruised. When he spoke, he had a surprisingly deep voice. He sounded like a twenty year-old.
“David, I told you to go north,” He said bordering on anger, “but you didn’t listen to me. I’ll bring you there, since you don’t seem to follow instructions well.”
In a split second, I ended up out of the car and in the midst of a crowd. Everything was in black and white, including the people; except for me. I noticed that I was now wearing a white jacket. It did not really bother me at the time, and I didn’t realize what was happening. The boy appeared in front of me again. This time, the bicycle was gone. He stood in front of me, staring. His eyes jabbed at my nerves, like shattered windows into a broken soul.
“Here we are.” He smirked. Soon after, he pushed through the crowd and started sprinting forward. The colorless crowd shifted out of his way, completely inanimate. Their limbs didn’t move. Instead, they just slid to the side like boxes. I followed him. There was no other option but to trail after him. The slight uneasiness I felt back at the house was getting far worse in such a short amount of time. I couldn’t quite explain what was so unsettling.
There was no other option but to follow the lead. This boy had complete control. If I turned around in an attempt to escape, he would pull me toward him. I simply had to accept that there was no turning back. He told me what I could do. I was a puppet and he tugged at the strings in this twisted game. I stalled for a moment in an attempt to grasp what was going on.
There was a skyscraper down the street. There was a massive screen seemingly suspended in front of it. To my right was a large cemetery. The boy called me to keep going through the crowd and catch up. I nodded, and walked ever so slowly.
My ears popped. It became harder and harder to hear. The large screen turned on and a man sitting at a desk began to speak.
“A local man has shot and killed his wife and three children, before attempting to turn the gun on himself. Thirty-nine year-old David Stenson then led police on a forty-mile high-speed chase before his vehicle ran out of gas and crashed into a telephone pole.”
The car reappeared next to me. This time, there were several more dents all over it. Some wires were tangled all over the hood.
“He was admitted to a nearby mental health facility, shortly after his trial.”
The crowd turned to me, pointing and maintaining their expressionless look. They then dissolved into the ground, only leaving the boy and four other people staring at me. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning around swiftly, I saw a woman with long, black hair and a pair of glasses that were just frames. She stared with such a piercing gaze that my soul was shaken.
“During the chase, Stenson collided with an SUV, striking and killing twenty-eight year-old Stacy Kertchweld. The wakes and funerals are being planned for this weekend by both families.”
The woman continued to stare blankly at me, not moving a muscle. It was as if everything around me had stopped in its tracks. Everyone then asked in unison,
“Why’d you do it?”
“Why did you hurt us, daddy?” The little girl in the red shirt asked.
“Why?”
“Why?” The girl in the green shirt cried.
“Now do you remember? Don’t you finally realize what you’ve done?”
The voices echoed over and over. They continued to get distorted until they turned into muffled screams of agony.
“Daddy? Answer us! Answer us, 3725. Speak! Wake up!”
My jacked got tighter and tighter, until I couldn’t move my arms. My hearing was gone and I could no longer feel my legs. Here I am, back in the white room, waiting for the key again.
---


December 29th
Patient has been in treatment for ninety (90) days. Shows no signs of improvement. Raise dosage.
–Emma
January 12th
Patient 3725 has been screaming for several house at a time. He claims he needs to get the key and read the journal for further instructions. He says he needs to follow the boy again. I suggest increasing staff and keeping a close eye on his actions. Put patient 3725 on suicide watch.
--Stue
January 20th
He continues mumbling the same phrase over and over again. “The frames. The frames.” Glasses? Or perhaps a window frame, or the mirror we are observing 3725 through. Continue dosage as instructed. He seems to have calmed down.
-Emma
January 29th
3725 and 3329 have both been silent for more than a week. 3725 is smiling and seems to be asleep as of this writing. 3329 is motionless but her vitals are stable.
-Stue
February 17th
A new staff member, John, has been hired. He is being tasked with watching 3725 during the night shifts. I will be handing this journal over to him in the evenings, so we can continue the observations.
-Emma
February 20th
3725 is walking around in his room suspiciously. I will keep a close eye on him. He seems to be showing signs of hostility. I may need additional staff in the near future. 3329 has been sobbing and making motions of adjusting glasses on her face that are not there. I’ll be increasing the dosage of Moban and possibly restraining her.
-John



March 1st
3329 has disappeared. I came in this morning and she was nowhere to be found in her room. How could John have let this happen last night? Staff changes need to be made. A grave error has occurred.
-Stan
March 2nd
3725 is in stable condition and is showing no fuss. John has not arrived for his shift yet, nor was he here last night. Something must be done. Continue searching for 3329. She could not have gone far. Stan will be taking over this journal on the 4th.
-Emma
March 4th
I have made a horrifying discovery. Earlier today, I we found some remnants of John. We are not absolutely certain. We’re unable to obtain dental records as the teeth and bottom half of his jaw were removed. We can only assume it is him from the remaining facial features.
Keep your guard up. 3329 is aroun


March 5th
The previous medical journal was covered in drops of blood this morning. I’m extremely concerned. Stan has disappeared, and we are fearing the worst. Hire armed security to patrol the halls on a constant basis.
In the meantime, this new journal will continue the observations. Do not touch the previous one. Send it in as evidence and do some forensic tests.
-Emma
March 6th
3725 has been weeping for ninety minutes this morning. 3329 is still gone. We can hear faint laughter occasionally coming out of the ceiling and walls.
Stay alert.
-Larry
March 9th
3329 has been found in the courtyard at 11 PM the previous evening, with an arm in her mouth. I cannot do this anymore. I quit. Hire someone to take my place.
-Emma
March 11th
So far, 3725 shows no signs of easing up.
Dosage instructions:
• Florazipam—
• Morazilam—
• Moban—
March 12th
3725 continues to scream unintelligible gibberish. Stephen, our new staff member, has gone missing since last night and has not shown up for work. The only phrase I can make out of 3725’s rambling is, “Make things right”
Increase dosage. Keep a very close watch on him. 3329 was found dead this morning. There seems to be no actual cause of death.
-Katherine
March 20th
3725 was found unconscious with two keys and a keycard in his hands. Straitjacket was found on the floor torn to shreds. I’m putting him in maximum lockdown. Do not look away from him for even a moment.
-Larry
March 21st
MAKE THINGS RIGHT.
---
Spanlife labs was a world-wide medical experimentation bureau designed to test out new medications on random subjects. 3725, David Stenson, was the subject of Zoherol, a psychiatric medication in its testing phase. He was not informed. Instead, his doctor called them antibiotics and prescribed them to him for a period of one year.
On April 15th, an investigative team was sent to Spanlife Labs to assess the situation. No staff members were reporting in and the armed guards stopped responding to calls. They found patient 3725 sitting at a desk scribbling angrily. In his room, the staff members and armed guards were found, incapacitated but in stable condition.
Spanlife Labs was shut down on April 16th. 3725 disappeared and has not been found ever since. There have been reports of sightings in the tri-state area, but none of the claims were elaborated on.

That was really cool and entertaining It reminds me of silenthill a little

Thanks and sorry for the awful formatting... It came out like that on this board. It's kind of a wall of text right now :x

Your welcome and dont worry I understand its cool