Estimated reading time — 85 minutes

I solemnly pledge myself before God and in the presence of this assembly to pass my life in purity and to practice my profession faithfully. I will abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous and will not take or knowingly administer any harmful drug. I will do all in my power to maintain and elevate the standard of my profession and will hold in confidence all personal matters committed to my keeping and all family affairs coming to my knowledge in the practice of my calling. With loyalty will I endeavor to aid the physician in his work, and as a ‘missioner of health’ I will dedicate myself to devoted service to human welfare.

I still remember the night of the pinning ceremony, the Nightingale pledge, and the feeling of relief for having completed an arduous two years. I was a fresh graduate of my nursing school, excited and proud of all I had accomplished to get to this point. I had passed my NCLEX prior to the pinning ceremony, which had to be delayed due to some rough weather that damaged the recreation center earlier in the month. I couldn’t wait to help change the lives of my patients, to do something truly meaningful with my life.

“Steven Collins,” my instructor called my name, and I walked from my place in line to the podium.

Shaking her hand, I thanked her for her role in my education before stepping back into my spot. I had done it; I was officially a registered nurse licensed by the Board of Nursing. I couldn’t help but smile to myself, once more beaming with pride. In a blur, the ceremony concluded, and I found myself in the entryway of the auditorium, awash in a sea of chatter.

“Hey, Steve! You should come with us to celebrate!” Sarah, one of my classmates, shouted at me from somewhere in the crowd.

Grinning, I pushed my way into the crowd of people, working my way to the sound of her voice.

“Hey, Sarah, congratulations! We did it!” I said.

“Yeah, we did! We were fixing to head to the sports bar to celebrate. You should come with us,” she said.

“You know I’m not a big fan of drinking,” I said, chuckling.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t come with us,” she replied. “Besides, you could drive us back and save us some cab fare if you don’t want to drink.”

I sighed, smiling, and agreed to go with them. I didn’t mind being their chaperon. After all, Sarah had helped me quite a bit in nursing school, so I was happy to return the favor. The night went by in a haze of drinks, laughter, and good food, and before long we were walking back to my car. Once everyone was seated and their seat belts buckled in, I started my car and pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road. Our town was a modest-sized one, with a population of roughly 20,000 people, give or take, so it wasn’t uncommon to find the roads deserted in the dead of night. Still, the darkness had an ever-present feeling of unease, one that only abated under the glow of the streetlights. One by one I dropped our classmates off at their homes, until only Sarah and I remained in the car. She lived a bit out of the way compared to the rest of our class, down a dark and winding road that veered into the country.

“Hey,” she murmured, leaning closer to me from the passenger seat.

“What’s up?” I asked, feeling myself blush a little. I had a crush on Sarah, but I never did work up the courage to ask her out on a date. Could she be…?

“Do you see that building up ahead?”

Her voice jolted me from my thoughts, and I found myself thankful my face was obscured by the darkness of night. I looked to where she was pointing. Coming up on the right side of the road was a turnoff to a skilled nursing facility. The building stood out like a sore thumb in comparison to its surroundings. It was the only building for miles, its light pushing away the darkness much in a similar manner to the street lights, although there was something off about the light. It made me cold, causing me to briefly shiver. Its brutalist architecture felt out of place in the sea of green surrounding it, as if it were an affront to nature itself. Light spilled out from some of the many windows, but most were dark, as dark as the night itself. It was shaped like a large rectangle, with sharp angles, and stood two stories in height. A derelict sign in front read “New Haven Healthcare,” though the bulbs in the letters E, A, and T in “healthcare” had apparently burned out. The feeling of unease had been replaced with one of dread, as if the sign itself reeked of pure malice.

“I’d never work there,” she continued. “I hear the working conditions are horrible and that they have a high turnover rate for their staff.”

“It certainly isn’t a very welcoming building. If I ever needed rehab, I’d choose somewhere else,” I replied.

We drove the rest of the way in silence, listening to the radio as I drove her home. After wishing her a goodnight, I walked back to my car and opened the driver-side door to get in. That’s when I noticed a pamphlet lying where Sarah had been sitting. Did she drop it? It was an ad for the building we had driven past on the way here. On it were some nurses and staff smiling in a somewhat uncanny way, standing in front of what looked to be a nurses’ station. The text below read, “Now hiring nurses for our night shift team. No experience necessary; we’ll train you. Join the New Haven family today! After working here, you’ll never want to leave. See below for starting pay and benefits.”

I began to read through the pamphlet and almost had to pick up my mouth from the ground. That couldn’t be right. On top of full benefits, the starting pay for the RN charge nurse position was almost three times the rate of the hospital I was planning on applying to. Like many grads, I had a small mountain of student loans that needed to be paid off, and with how much they were paying, it’d only take me a year at most to be debt-free. Hell, I could even buy a nice house on some land, and who knows, maybe ask Sarah out. I folded the paper and placed it in my pocket before heading home. I’d have to sleep on it. Even though the place gave me the creeps, my pay at the hospital, if they hired me, would be around $30 an hour, and they were offering nearly three times that. The starting pay was $85 an hour, an insane amount for this area, let alone a new nurse.

I closed my door and started my car. As the engine sputtered to life, I placed the pamphlet in my coat pocket and began to make my way home. I fiddled with the radio, searching for a station I liked, and saw that it was 4:13 am. There was something almost eerie on the drive back, a certain unsettling feeling that I couldn’t quite place. Where Sarah once sat was now barren and cold, a lifeless effigy where the warmth of a dream had since faded. As I rounded a turn, I saw that building once more, though it seemed somewhat darker than it had earlier. As I drove past, I could have sworn I saw a nurse standing in the entrance, smiling at me. Glancing into my center mirror, I saw nothing but the building.

“I have got to get some sleep,” I muttered to myself, returning my gaze to the open road before me.

Checking the center console, I saw that it was 4:15 am, which was odd, considering that from Sarah’s house to here was approximately a 20-minute drive. I know for a fact I left her place around 4:13, so how could it only be 4:15? The sudden blaring of a horn released me from the over-exhausted stupor I found myself in. I swerved to avoid the oncoming car, cursing under my breath as I did so. Glancing back down, I saw the time displayed was now 4:35 am. Was I seeing things in this half-awakened state? That had to be it; that was the only logical explanation. I reached down and turned the AC on full blast and shivered. I had never been particularly fond of the cold, but it was a far better alternative than winding up as a patient at the very hospital I planned to apply to.

I finally arrived home, my eyes weighed down by the heavy bags that rested underneath them. I stumbled to the front door, hand fumbling in my pocket for my keys, finding them just as I reached it. I had a habit of putting the keys in my pocket after leaving my vehicle. Yawning, I found the right key and unlocked my door, relieved to be home and not in the back of an ambulance. The pamphlet lay all but forgotten in my coat pocket as I took it off, tossing it haphazardly on the couch; sleep couldn’t come soon enough. I kicked off my shoes and plopped down onto my bed, not bothering to do any of the nightly rituals I typically did prior to turning in for the night. Sleep overtook me before long, the pull of drowsiness a force far too powerful to resist.

I opened my eyes, and I was there at New Haven, standing near the entrance. I turned my head to look behind me and saw that the only letters illuminated on the sign were H, E, and L. Scribbled to the right of the L was another L written in something red and dark. A cold wind blew across the entrance, causing me to shiver and pull my coat tightly over my scrubs.

“Welcome home, Steven.” A voice carried over the wind, her voice, a voice that was soft and dangerous, akin to something almost, but not quite, human.

I turned and saw the nurse I thought was staring at me on the drive home. She wore white scrubs and a white cap from a bygone era, complete with white shoes and a brown clipboard in her hands. Her brown hair was tied neatly into a bun, with not a single hair out of place. Her eyes were a shade of blue so bright and dazzling that it hurt to look at them. She wore two golden hoop earrings and had dark crimson lipstick applied perfectly to her lips. Plastered on her face was that same uncanny smile from before, as if she was trying to imitate what a normal smile would look like, but it was wrong.

“Eh… excuse me?” I stammered.

Her smile stretched even further, revealing perfectly white teeth without a single blemish.
“Welcome home, Steven. We’ve been expecting you, and we are oh so excited to have you here with us, here with the family.” As she finished talking, a barely audible cracking sound emanated from her mouth.

“Home? Family? What? What are you talking about? This isn’t my home.”

“Are you sure?” She tilted her head unnaturally to the side, her smile growing even wider, wider than any human mouth should be. I took a step back and nearly tripped on something.

“Do be careful now, dear; we wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” The wood of the clipboard she was holding groaned under an ever-tightening grip, small cracks beginning to form on it.
I looked down to see what I had tripped on, but there was nothing there. Returning my gaze to the nurse, her once pristine scrubs were now yellowed with age, covered in splotches of dried blood. Her once neat hair was now unkempt and threatening to fall from her ruined cap. Despite this, her skin and teeth remained flawless, as if she were a porcelain doll, but that smile… it was far too wide, literally stretching from ear to ear. She took an awkward step forward, as if she were walking for the first time, her gaze piercing my very soul.

“You are going to love it here, Steven. Things have been so stale, and we are in desperate need of fresh blood on the team.”

I took another step back, not daring to take my eyes off of her.

“Really, Steven, you ought to be more aware of your surroundings,” she said, raising a hand and pointing directly behind me.

A blaring horn sounded from behind, startling me, and I turned to see the white headlights of the car I had nearly hit that night within feet of my face. I covered my head and screamed as the lights overtook me, the horn blaring once more and… ringing?

I jolted up into a seated position, rubbing my eyes. I was safe at home, in my own bed, with my alarm clock screaming at me to get up. Groggily, I reached over and shut it off, rubbing my eyes once more after the silence was no longer permeated by that annoying but effective ringing. Only a dream, I thought to myself; it was only a dream. Even so, my throat was hoarse from yelling, and I could taste a hint of iron in my mouth. Did I scream so hard that I caused myself to bleed?

I swung my legs out of bed and walked into my bathroom, turning the light on as I did so. I turned on the sink, splashing my face a few times with cold water. I’ve had a bad dream or two in the past, but nothing like that. It felt so real, as if my life was in real, tangible danger. I turned off the faucet, dried my face in a towel I had hung on the door, and headed to the kitchen; I could really use some coffee. After brewing a pot and pouring myself a cup, I sat down at the dining room table, basking in the warm glow of the afternoon sun that filtered in through the blinds. As I set my cup down, I noticed the pamphlet on the table right next to me. Odd, I didn’t recall removing it from my pocket last night. I stood up, picking up the pamphlet as I did so, and threw it into the trash.

“After that dream, there’s no way in hell I’d ever work at that place,” I muttered to myself.
I grabbed my keys and made my way to the front door. The day was already halfway through, and I hadn’t put in a single application. I decided I’d start with the hospital and go from there. As the sun started to set, I pulled into my driveway, my endeavors fruitless. Not a single place nearby was hiring, with the closest being an hour’s drive from town. I unlocked my front door feeling defeated and headed on in. Driving far wasn’t really an option for me, as I tended to get drowsy driving long distances. I plopped down onto my couch, staring blankly ahead. I suppose I could consider New Haven, night terror aside. I put my head in my hands and groaned. With such good pay and benefits, the likelihood of that position still being available was slim at best.

“Well, what do I have to lose?” I asked myself, standing up to retrieve the pamphlet from the trash.

I turned it over, scanning the paper for what I was looking for. Aha! There it was. The facility’s phone number. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, and then dialed the number. It rang once, twice, three times, four times… with each ring my hopes sank further yet. Then there was a click, and a female voice emanated from the phone’s speakers.

“New Haven nursing facility, this is Vanessa; how may I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Steven. I recently graduated from my nursing program and was wondering if the position advertised in your pamphlet was still available,” I said, holding my breath, bracing myself for the inevitable no that was sure to follow.

“Let me put you on hold and check with my DON; I’ll be right back,” she replied, her voice soon replaced by the typical jingles one often hears when put on hold.

“God, I was an idiot,” I thought to myself. A golden opportunity was literally handed to me by the universe, and I let it slip, all over a random dream. I cursed in my head. I swore if by some miracle the position was still available, I’d take it without a second thought. If it wasn’t, well, I’d have no choice but to apply outside of town. The music suddenly cut off and was followed by a click.

“Sam, it’s Vanessa. Are you still on the line?”

“It’s Steven,” I corrected. “But yes, I’m still here.”

“Oh, sorry about that,” she said somewhat meekly.

“It’s okay; don’t worry about it.”

“I checked with my DON, and yes, that position is still available. Would you be available tomorrow at four pm for an interview?”

“Yes, yes!” I said ecstatically, almost dropping my phone in the process.

“Great,” she replied. “In that case, we’ll see you at four pm tomorrow at the main entrance. Please be sure to have your license number on hand so that we can ensure you are in good standing with the board, as well as five professional references. They can be from previous employers or instructors from an accredited program, but family members are not permitted. Does that sound alright with you?”

“Yes, that won’t be a problem,” I replied.

“Okay. Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked.

“No, that will be all. Have a great day,” I said.

“You too. See you soon.” The phone clicked as she hung up.

Before I knew it, I was en route to the nursing home for my interview. I had laid out freshly ironed dress clothes the night before, complete with a tie and dress shoes, and had made sure to shave; I wanted to put my best foot forward for this interview. I pulled into the driveway, glancing at the sign as I drove past it. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Hell” was not inscribed on the sign; in fact, a maintenance worker was replacing the bulbs on the letters that were dark the last time I drove past the facility. I chuckled to myself, chalking it up to a mix of nerves and exhaustion. I pulled into a parking space labeled “guest” and stepped out of my car, locking the door behind me. I paused for a moment, readjusting my tie in my driver-side mirror, before heading toward the building.

I passed through two sliding glass doors and entered the main lobby, marveling at the interior, which was a stark contrast to the exterior. A chandelier hung from a vaulted ceiling, its light bathing the lobby in a warm glow. To the left of the doors was a sitting area with three comfortable-looking chairs, a padded end table, and a large TV monitor. More chairs, albeit wooden and courtroom-like in appearance, dotted the wall in front of me. To the right was a polished wooden desk where a secretary sat, typing away on her keyboard, her eyes transfixed on her screen. I approached the secretary, clearing my throat as I did so.

“Hello,” I said, flashing her a smile.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking up from her screen.

“Good afternoon. My name is Steven. I have an interview scheduled for this afternoon for the weekend nights charge nurse position.”

“One moment please,” she said, scooting her seat back and bending down over a filing cabinet she had just opened. She flipped through some papers for a minute before finding what she was looking for. She pulled a paper from a folder and handed it to me as well as a clipboard. “Please fill this out front and back and then return it to me when you’re done.”

I thanked her and secured the paper to the clipboard before taking it to one of the wooden chairs. I pulled a pen from my pocket, scanning the paper as I did so. It was your standard application form, asking for the usual personal information: name, social security number, address, phone number, references, and so forth. I filled out the form, not thinking much of it, until I reached the bottom of the second page, where a small disclosure read: New Haven Healthcare is not responsible for any damage to property or loss of life or limb for failing to follow the facility rules. I hereby absolve New Haven and all its entities thereof from all legal responsibilities in the event I breach either my contract or the rules that will be provided to me upon employment by this facility. I acknowledge I have read and agree to the above.

I held my pen in place over the line requiring my signature. Loss of life or limb? In a nursing home? And what did it mean by rules? I flipped the paper back over, scanning the front to see if anything else was out of the ordinary, but nothing was. It was just an application form. Just as I was about to get up to ask the secretary about the disclosure, her voice sounded from her desk.

“Steven, the DON is ready to see you now. If you haven’t finished filling out the application, please do so and make sure I have it before you leave.”

“Right, where do I meet her?”

The secretary gestured to a door directly behind her. “Through that door, just make sure you knock first.”

I thanked her and walked around the desk and to the door that was behind her. A small plastic plaque read: Amy DON. I knocked three times and waited. After a brief pause, a voice said, “Come in.” I opened the door and stepped inside her office. She was a middle-aged woman with a mix of blonde and gray hair, her green eyes resting behind thick spectacles. She sat behind a wooden desk with multiple folders full of documents, her face alight from the computer screen. Hung on the wall behind her were various degrees, from nursing schools to other certificates for continuing education. She lifted her hand to shake mine as I approached before gesturing for me to take a seat on one of the chairs in front of her. I thanked her and sat down, trying to push my nerves down my throat as I cleared it.
“So you’re Steven, correct?” Her voice was soft but stern, like that of a schoolteacher accustomed to dealing with rowdy children.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yes, likewise. My secretary informed me that you were applying for the weekend… night position?” She asked, more to herself than me.

“That’s correct.”

“Hmm, I wasn’t aware we had an opening on that shift. I could have sworn I interviewed someone for that position a few months ago.”

“Oh,” I said, my heart sinking. I couldn’t help but wonder: was there some sort of mistake causing the job to be listed erroneously?

“No need to worry. It’s not uncommon for there to be miscommunications between the shifts. It’s very likely that the person may have quit; this job isn’t for everyone after all,” she said, clicking her mouse. “I see that we do have a position available for the weekend night shift. Could you provide me with your license number, please?”

“Of course,” I said, reading her my number I had written down on a piece of paper earlier.

“Okay, so it seems you are in good standing with the board. Do you have any experience in long-term care?”

“This would be my first job, so aside from clinicals, I do not. Will that be a problem?”

“Oh no, not at all; it just means I’ll need to have someone act as a preceptor for you during orientation. Let me see…” She said, clicking feverishly. “I would like you to train under Felicia and John for a few days each. Felicia works weekdays, and John weekday nights. When will you be available to start?”

I cleared my throat before replying, “I can start any time.”

“Great,” she said, smiling. “I’d like you to come in tomorrow and Friday to work under Felicia. She’s the charge nurse on North, one of our long-term halls. Then next week, come in for the night shift and see John. He works South, our rehab hall. If you perform well and are comfortable with taking charge from there, I’ll start you on the following weekend. Does that sound fair to you?”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you for this opportunity,” I said, shaking her hand once more, before stepping out of the office, closing the door as I did so.

I looked at the form the secretary had given me earlier, breathing a sigh of relief to see that strange disclosure was no longer there. In its place was a line that read, “I hereby attest that the information provided by me is accurate to the best of my knowledge, and that I consent to a background check performed by the company.” I signed on the line acknowledging the above and then handed it to the secretary. I thanked her and wished her a good day before stepping out into the warm evening. For a reason unbeknownst to me, I felt relieved to be out of that building, as if an unforeseen danger lurked within its walls. As I drove away from the facility, I noticed a figure standing in one of the second-floor windows, their shape obscured behind the glare of the sun.

It’s strange how time flies sometimes, isn’t it? In a blur my orientation was complete, and it was Saturday. I arrived at 6:00 pm, half an hour early, and drove to the back of the building; I would be working on the south side of the building on the second floor. I entered through the employee entrance and went to the break room, as I was instructed to over the phone earlier today by the night shift supervisor. Inside were various tables and chairs, with a fridge and some lockers in the back. A small microwave sat on a table next to the fridge, and two wall heaters hummed beneath the windows.

I walked over to the lockers, looking for my number among the many rows, before finding it: 607. I used the key given to me during orientation and saw a manila envelope resting inside. Curious, I pulled it out and saw someone had written my name along with the words “Read Me.” I walked to a table near the first window and sat down, taking a moment to savor what little light remained outside, and then opened the envelope. Inside was a single piece of paper with bold font at the top that read, “Rules for Surviving the Night Shift.”

Rule number one: Do not clock in on the first floor; you can only clock in on the second floor. Clock in at precisely 6:28 pm and not a minute sooner or later. Failure to do so will result in disciplinary action from the night supervisor, and trust me, you don’t want that.

Rule number two: Only use the stairs located at the end of your assigned hall; do not use the elevators, they won’t take you anywhere you’d want to go.

Rule number three: The off-coming nurse will give you a report. If they ask to do walking rounds, politely decline and say “I would prefer we report here.” If they agree to do so, continue with the report as normal. If they do not, excuse yourself to the employee bathroom to the right of the nurse station and wait 5 minutes. If upon exiting there is a written report sheet, read it and proceed to rule four. If the nurse is still there, immediately clock out and go home; refer to rule two. In the event this does happen, you will receive a full night’s pay.

Rule number four: You must begin your shift by rounding on your residents and continue to do so every two hours on the odd hours only. Never round on the even hours. If you fail to do your rounds, hide in the med room behind the desk until it’s time for the next rounds. Lock the door behind you and do not open it, no matter what you hear.

Rule number five: When rounding, you will have a specified window in which you must complete your rounds. Refer to the report sheet for the night for further instructions. The lights will begin to flicker when your time is close to expiring. If you are not behind the nurse station before the time limit expires, head to the nearest room with a green flag and knock seven times. If no one replies, enter the room and announce your presence by saying “nursing,” then lock the door. If someone does reply or the flag above the door is red, proceed to the next room. Wait in the room until the lights stop flickering; strange things happen in the halls when the veil is thin. After exiting the room, ensure that the green flag is switched to red, or something could follow you out.

Rule number six: Throughout the night you will have tasks to complete at certain times. Always refer to the analog clocks throughout the facility; the digital clocks lie.

Rule number seven: If the pharmacy calls between 8:00 pm and 8:30 pm with a delivery, ask them to wait for you in the stairwell on the first floor. If the pharmacy calls at any other time, tell them the delivery has been rescheduled and hang up the phone; that isn’t the pharmacy.

Rule number eight: If at any time you see an elderly woman with long black hair, do not acknowledge her. Instead, promptly return to the nurse station and lock yourself in the med room for 6 minutes. If this happens during your rounds, refer to rule four. Whatever you do, do not look at her face. If you do, not even the door will save you.

Rule number nine: If you hear the laughter of children coming from within a room, you did not; there are no children in the building. Continue your rounds and do not enter the room, no matter what you hear.

Rule number ten: Sometimes the hallways change. If you round the corner and the hallway is different or seems to go on forever, retrace your steps to the end of the hall you came from and turn right. If this is not possible, enter the nearest room with a green flag and close the door; be sure to follow rule five. After closing the door, count to five and open it. If the hallway is still infinite, but you can now make a right, do so. If not, close the door and repeat until either the hallway reverts or you are able to make a right; do not forget to switch the flag to red upon exiting the room.

Rule number eleven: Some of our residents require specific care that may not be listed on the report sheet. Refer to the charts for the care plans of our residents. If you are required to enter a resident’s room to provide care, you must knock three times and announce your presence by saying “nursing.” If a resident refuses care, bow your head and apologize, then leave the room. In the event you find one of our residents in another room or in the hall, escort them back to their assigned room immediately.

Rule number twelve: If the light above the operating room is on, do not enter. If you do, announce your presence by saying sorry for the intrusion. If the surgeon says nothing, quietly exit the room. If, however, he does notice you and asks for help with the operation, you must do whatever he asks you to, no matter how gruesome the task may be.

Rule number thirteen: Never under any circumstance enter the supervisor’s office. Scrawled to the side in sloppy handwriting were the words “unless directed to by her.”

I was brought back to reality by the sound of heavy footsteps followed by the closing of a door. Moments later, another nurse walked into the break room and took the seat across from mine, setting a backpack on the floor next to him. He had short blonde hair and blue eyes, with a face that was clean-shaven; he was reminiscent of a soldier from the Army. I could see the faint outlines of well-developed muscles beneath a pair of baggy blue scrubs. A stethoscope hung around his neck, and beside it was a name badge that had his first name followed by the words “RN.” He took a long, hard look at me, as if he were summing me up, and then reached out a hand towards me. I shook it, noting a firm grip and a handful of calloused skin.

“The name’s Brad, nice to meet you.” He had a surprisingly soft voice, one that was the complete opposite of his physique.

“Steven. Nice to meet you, Brad.”

“I take it you’re the new hire for South Hall then,” he said, his eyes looking at the paper that sat in front of me.

“Yes, that’s correct, and let me say I’m excited to—”

“There’s no need for that, friend,” Brad said, waving a hand. “Did you read the rules?”

“The rules? These?” I picked up the paper and set it back down. “I did, and I have to say, not a bad prank for the newbie.”

Brad just stared at me, a serious look upon his face. “No prank, friend. Those are real, and if you want to make it to the next sunrise, you’d best follow them. I don’t care if you’re religious, nor do I care what god you pray to; that piece of paper right there will be your bible for the duration of your stay here.”

“Excuse me? So you’re telling me you got the exact same piece of paper when you started? C’mon, man, it’s not as funny the second time around,” I said, scoffing at him.

“Like I said, it’s no joke. This place isn’t like other nursing homes. There’s real evil here, and believe me, if you let your guard down, it will gobble you up like the nurse before you. Why else do you think a position was available?” He asked as he produced a travel mug from his bag, unscrewing the lid, which functioned as a cup, and poured some hot coffee into it. He raised it to his nose, savoring the aroma carried by the steam, and took a swig of it.

“I assumed because they quit.”

He laughed in a manner that was rather harsh before looking at me. “Nobody quits here. Once you sign the contract, that’s it; no turning back.”

“Contract?”

“The night supervisor will give you one, depending on how well you do on your first night; a real nasty one, that brute is,” he said, taking a sip from his mug before continuing, “If you survive, that is.”

“If I… survive?”

“Listen closely to me, kid,” Brad said as he leaned in. “The supervisor isn’t normal; this place isn’t normal. The second floor is closed for renovation. It’s always closed for renovation, and the day crew doesn’t know any better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look out there,” Brad gestured out the door to a paper that hung by the time clock. It read, “Coming soon! The long-anticipated rehab wings!” “Do you notice anything strange about it?”

I looked at the paper and saw what he meant: “It doesn’t say when.”

“Exactly. Aside from lacking a date, that paper always remains in pristine condition. I’ve been here for six months, and in that time, it hasn’t changed one bit. No aging, wrinkling, nothing. I’ve even tried removing it, but it always ends up back there when you look away.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hell if I know, kid, but I think it’s the supervisor’s doing.”

“The supervisor?”

“I don’t much know what the supervisor is,” Brad continued, seemingly to not have heard my question. “And I don’t care to find out, but she’s definitely not human. She has a sort of power over this place, a control over what goes on both down here and up there,” he gestured to the ceiling.

“What do you mean by a kind of power?”

“The kind that lets her bend reality and warp the memories of the staff that works here during the day. Tell me, when you had your interview, was it the day shift DON who interviewed you?”

“Yeah?”

“And was she perplexed by the shift you applied for?”

I thought back to how she didn’t know the position was available. “Now that you mention it, she didn’t even know there was an opening; she even had to check on her computer to make sure,” I said, scrunching my eyes a bit.

“Uh-huh. Pray tell, did she remember anything about the previous nurse for that shift?”

“No… she didn’t.”

“That’s because if you die here, you don’t just die. This place claims you, and you’re erased from the world that exists outside of these walls.”

I just stared ahead, unable to speak.

“Your friends and family? Gone. You never existed. The place you lived? All your belongings just vanish. I know this because I went to the previous nurse’s apartment to look for her when she didn’t show up for work the next night, and it was vacant.”

“But if you’re erased, how did you remember her?”

“It’s this place. Like I said, when you sign that contract, there’s no turning back. For better or for worse, you’re a part of this place now.”

“Not to be rude, but how did you get into her apartment?”

“Ashley was my girlfriend; I had a key. We both applied for the night shift positions here six months ago, and two months ago this day, she broke a rule; she looked at the black-haired woman.”

“I- I’m,” I stuttered, “I’m so sorry.”

“Aye, me too, friend,” Brad said as he took another sip from his mug. “Listen, pal, I don’t mean to come across as overbearing; I’m not your father. I just don’t want to see you suffer the same fate she did.”

“What do you mean by fate?” I was almost afraid to ask, but curiosity yielded to fear.

“I still see her, you know,” Brad spoke more softly this time, more sullen. “She often visits me at the nurse station, asking me to go home with her.”

I shuddered in my seat, even though it was quite warm in the room.

“Sometimes I see her die in different ways, over and over again.” Brad raised his cup to his mouth and swallowed the last few gulps of coffee before returning it to the canister. “God, the sounds that come out of her mouth are enough to drive a sane man to the brink of insanity.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Aye. I often wonder to myself if she’s real or not. Am I seeing her soul being tormented by this place, or is she my trauma manifested as an apparition?” He sighed, looking out the window with a pensive expression on his face, before turning back to me. “Want some advice? Don’t sign the contract. If you make it through the night, run and never look back.”
A beeping sound from Brad’s wristwatch signaled that our chat had reached its conclusion. Brad stood up from his seat, placing his mug into his backpack, before turning to me, his face grim.

“You stick to the rules, no matter what,” he said, and then walked out the door.

I just sat there for a moment, mind still reeling from everything Brad had told me. The way he acted, the serious and almost threatening tone to his voice—I didn’t think he was pranking me anymore. I read through the rules once more before gathering my belongings and following Brad out of the break room. The shortest route to my hall would be to cut through the kitchen; the stairwell would be next to the emergency exit door on that hall. I saw no staff or residents as I made my way to the stairs, ascending them with fear welling up in the pit of my stomach. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the dream I had days ago returned to the front of my consciousness. Was it a warning?

After what felt like both a rush and an eternity, I stood before the door leading to South. There was an analog clock above the time clock, which read 6:28 pm. Not wanting to break what would likely be the easiest rule to follow, I punched in and opened the door. Where one would have expected to see signs of renovation, such as scaffolding or barriers barring entry into a work area, there were instead pristine halls. Tiled floors gleamed underneath a flawless coat of wax, walls painted a pinkish-beige were full of decor about home and family, and a sturdy wooden desk that didn’t look more than a day old sat in the middle of the hall. The overhead lights shone brightly, as if to dare the smallest of imperfections to show themselves and be destroyed. The only sound was that of my footsteps that reverberated off the clean floors.

I approached the nurse station and walked around the desk to get a report from the day nurse. She sat there, back to me, typing on a computer, her slender hands dancing elegantly across the keyboard. I introduced myself and almost choked on my own words as she spun around in her seat to face me. Her name badge was the source of my alarm, and it read: Ashley LPN. She acted oblivious to the state I was in, folding her hands in her lap and smiling.

“Hello, you must be the new night nurse,” she said with a certain coldness to her voice.

“Ye—yes, ma’am, I am.”

“I don’t have much to tell you in the way of a report; it was a pretty good day.” She stood up, picking up a clipboard as she did so. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll give you a report as we round.”

I was about to follow her when I remembered rule number three. If the off-coming nurse wanted to do walking rounds for the report, I was supposed to politely decline and ask that we do the report here. If they refused, then I would need to excuse myself to the employee bathroom and wait 5 minutes. If she were still there, I’d get to clock out and go home. Somehow I doubted I would get that lucky.

“Actually,” I said, clearing my throat. “I would prefer we do report here.”

She furrowed her brow. “It would be better if we round. This is your first night, and this will better acquaint you with the residents. Now if you don’t mind, please come with me,” she said, gesturing to the hall I had just walked down.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s bad timing, but I need to use the bathroom. If you’ll excuse me,” I said, walking around the desk towards the door marked employee restroom.

As I turned to close the door behind me, I saw Ashley just standing there, expressionless, staring at me with a look of malice in her eyes. I locked the door once it had shut completely and walked to the sink to splash some water on my face. I looked up in the mirror and saw Ashley standing behind me, smiling. I jumped back and spun around, but there was no one there. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the mirror, which only had my reflection displayed on its surface.

“Get a grip, Steven,” I said as I turned off the water and dried my hands with some paper towels. I was about to check the time on my phone when I remembered rule six about the digital clocks lying.

I looked around the bathroom for the analog clock and found it sitting above the door frame. It had been four minutes since I entered the restroom. Curious, I pulled out my phone, eyes widening at the displayed time of 6:59 pm. Had I not remembered the rule, I would have likely panicked and left early and… I shuddered, not wanting to think of what could have happened. When the five minutes had passed, I cautiously unlocked the door and walked back to the nurse station. In Ashley’s place was an empty desk with a single sheet of paper where she had been sitting. I sat down in the chair and picked up the report sheet. On it was a list of thirty-four rooms; however, there were only ten residents residing on the hall. Most of the names had basic notes jotted down, such as “no change,” “ate well,” “no behaviors observed,” and so forth. The last name, though, read Larry—very violent towards staff today. Haldol administered per orders; see chart for new orders by physician—the doctor’s name was smudged and illegible.

I glanced at the clock, which was hung on the wall behind the nurse station; it read 6:47 pm. Not seeing the rounding schedule on the front, I flipped the paper over, finding what I was looking for. The list was short and direct in the times. From seven to eight I had fifty minutes to complete my rounds. Both nine to ten and eleven to midnight allotted me forty-five minutes. After midnight was where the schedule started to become tight. From one to two I had just thirty minutes, and the time decreased by five minutes each round until it reached 5:00 am, which gave me a meager ten minutes to complete my rounds. No tasks were displayed on the MAR or TAR, so I waited for seven to start my first set of rounds.

The layout of my hall was simple to navigate. From the stairwell were the rooms 501 to 510, with two large doors that I assumed connected to the other side of the building, followed by rooms 600 to 623. At the end of the 600 hall was a common area, followed by the remaining rooms forming an L-pattern. In the center stood a pair of double doors with the words “operating room” on a sign above them; the light above the sign was currently off. All of my residents were on the 600 hall, except for Larry, who resided in room 501. The doors on the 600 hall were all open, which made it easier to round as I could peep in to make sure the residents were all in their respective rooms. When I reached Larry’s room, I knocked three times and said “nursing” before opening the door.

“Get out of here, boy,” growled a deep voice from inside a pitch-black room.

“My apologies, sir,” I said, turning to leave the room.

“You didn’t bow,” growled the voice once more, this time directly from behind.

I felt a cold hand with long nails grab my left forearm, digging deep into my flesh, causing rivulets of blood to flow. I spun around as it began to pull me into the room. The arm and hand were covered in pale, wrinkled skin, with age spots dotting it here and there. The tips of the nails, however, were black and sharp. Dark as they were, they paled in comparison to the darkness of the room; it was as if it were night itself, only without the stars. A cold, seemingly endless black void of absolute nothingness with an insatiable hunger. The arm seemed to appear out of thin air, manifesting from within the void itself. I quickly lowered my head and bowed to the room.

“I am deeply sorry, sir,” I stammered.

As soon as I finished speaking, the grip on my arm was released, freeing me from the darkness before me. There was a loud bang as the door slammed shut, and then silence. I raised my arm, inspecting it to see how badly I was injured. On the back of my forearm were three deep gashes from where Larry had gripped me, with blood steadily oozing from the puncture wounds. I made my way back to the nursing station where the treatment car was parked and cleaned my arm before securing the wound with a non-stick dressing and gauze. I then collapsed in the chair, resting my good arm over my still rapidly beating heart. “Brad wasn’t joking,” I thought to myself; the rules were real. I pulled the rules from my pocket and began to memorize them. That slip-up from earlier could have gotten me killed. I didn’t know who or what Larry was, but I had a feeling that if he had pulled me into his room, I would have never seen any light again.

“Are you okay?” came a female voice from beside me.

I nearly jumped out of my chair, spinning my head to see who was talking to me. In the chair next to mine sat a petite young woman with messy brown hair and thick glasses. She wore matching scrubs of blue and had a name badge that read “Cheryl CNA.”

“I’m fine,” I replied. “I’m sorry, but when did you get here?”

“Oh, CNAs work eight-hour shifts. Mine runs from 2:30 to 10:30, though tonight I’m pulling a double. We aren’t supposed to be around the nurses when they give report; it’s one of our rules.”

“You guys have rules too?”

“We do, though ours are much different from yours,” she said, clearing her throat before continuing, “For instance, for our rounds we have to provide care for the residents, while your rounds are more like that of a security guard.”

“What do you mean? Part of being a nurse is working as a team.”

“Not here it isn’t. My job is to assist them with care, and yours is to make sure they don’t end up somewhere they aren’t supposed to. Plus, they have us round on the even hours, so it’s not like you could help me even if you wanted to.”

“I see. Doesn’t any of,” I gestured to the halls, “this bother you?”

“Are you kidding me? Each night that I come into work, I wonder if I’m going to make it through another shift. I want to quit, to get the hell away from this place, but I can’t. You want my advice? Don’t sign that contract. You do your shift, you clock out, and you put as much distance between you and this place as you can and never look back.”

“What contract?” I asked, hoping to learn more than what Brad had let on.

Cheryl sighed, “The night supervisor likes her rules and people who can follow them. If you make it through the night without breaking too many of them, you’ll undoubtedly meet her near the end of your shift.”

“At this point, I don’t think I want to,” I said, rubbing my injured arm.

“Ha ha, no one does. She’s evil, pure and unbridled evil. I’m getting off topic. If you make it, she’ll offer you a contract to work here for a set period of time. My first contract was for two months, then six, and then two years.”

“You’ve been here for almost three years? Why?”

“I needed the pay. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, and we couldn’t afford her treatment. Working here was the only way I could afford it.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to come off as insensitive.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, dismissing me with a hand. “The point is, as the pay increased, so did the rules, but that’s not the worst part. You asked how I’ve been here for almost three years, right? I’ve been here for eleven years.”

“Eleven!” I burst out, my eyes widening.

Cheryl nodded. “Eleven. What she doesn’t tell you is how much this place takes from you. Every rule you break, no matter how small, takes a piece of you. How many have you broken already?” she asked, eyeing my injured arm.

“Just one, as far as I’m aware of, but what do you mean by a piece of you? A piece of what?”

“Your soul,” she simply said, “but it isn’t just from breaking the rules. Just being here takes from you too. Work here long enough and you’ll become a part of this place too, even if you never break another rule again.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice choking a bit.

“It claims you, body and soul, and you become another one of her puppets.”

“But what about your mother? Didn’t she try to find you?” I asked, even though I already knew her answer would be anything but yes.

Cheryl shook her head. “Nobody remembers me, not even my own mother,” she said, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “And now I can’t ever leave this place. I have to keep playing her sick game or she’ll… she’ll…” She broke off, sobbing.

I scooted my chair to her and gave her a hug, hoping to comfort her. She was cold, like a corpse, but smelled of freshly cut roses. She raised her head and wrapped her arms around me.

“I just want to go home,” she sobbed. “I just want to see my mother. I—”

She was interrupted by the phone ringing at the nurse station; it was 8:00.

“I’ve got to go do my rounds,” she said, wiping her tears on her arms as she stood up.

You’d better get that; it’s probably the pharmacy calling, and they don’t like to be kept waiting.” With that she walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone once more. I wheeled myself back to the desk and picked up the phone.

“New Haven Healthcare, this is Steven; how may I help you?”

“Pharmacy,” croaked a deep, guttural voice from the receiver. “Got a delivery. Would you like me to meet you on the second floor?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” I said, remembering rule seven. “I’ll meet you by the first-floor stairwell. Could you wait there for me?”

“Very well,” the voice said, and then hung up.

I hung up the receiver and made my way to the stairwell. The walk down was the complete opposite of what it was when I first ascended the stairs. Whereas the feeling of dread and danger increased as I drew closer to the second floor, feelings of relief and safety washed over me the further I descended. The brief respite abated quickly as I neared the exit door. A shadow loomed beyond the fogged glass window of the door. There was an ominous feeling coming from the presence that stood just beyond the threshold of the door. It was almost as suffocating as the darkness from room 501.

“Good evening,” I said as I opened the door.

“Good… evening…” the man repeated, drawing out the words. “Sign here,” he said, holding out a clipboard with a delivery slip on it.

As I signed my name on the paper, I couldn’t help but notice particularities about the man. The first thing that caught my attention was the smell. He had a sickly sweet odor about him, not unlike that of a corpse. He jerked with odd movements, almost akin to muscle spasms, and when he smiled at me, I couldn’t help but shudder. His face was normal, but not just normal—too normal. It was as if something flipped through all the faces of humanity and created the most mundane face they could think of. Looking at him gave me a headache, and his teeth, dear god, his teeth. They were rotted, yellowed, and blackened from years of abuse and decay. I stifled a cough as I handed the clipboard back to him. He looked at the paper for a moment before handing me a brown paper bag.

“Have a good night, sir, and thank you for choosing our pharmacy.”

Before I could reply, he turned and walked away, his steps in perfect sync with one another. I closed the door and began my ascent back upstairs. I placed the bag on the desk and sat down in my chair, resting my head in my palms, massaging it. Before long the headache receded, and I sat up, directing my gaze to the bag. I opened it, pulling out a sheet of paper that was a list of delivered items. There was just one item on the list for Larry. I signed the sheet and placed it in the binder marked “pharmacy manifest” before inspecting the contents of the bag. Inside was a smaller paper bag with something leaking out of the bottom. On it was a sticker that read: Keep refrigerated. Do not open contents until administration. Administer one time at hour of sleep for insomnia.

I picked up the bag, scrunching my nose as I did so, and headed into the med room. It had the same sickly sweet smell to it that the pharmacist did. I opened the fridge and placed it on a shelf, glad to be rid of the thing. I stepped out of the room, eager to wash my hands, when I saw her. Towering over the nurse station was a tall, lanky woman, taller than any normal human should be. She was elderly, wearing a very dirty hospital gown stained with only God knew what. Her head was tilted downward, her face obscured by long, black hair that seemed to move across the desk like snakes. Rule eight. I fumbled with the charge nurse keys, nearly dropping them, before finding the key to the med room. I burst in, slamming the door shut behind me before locking it, and glanced at the clock. Six minutes. I just had to wait here for six minutes. I slid down the door, my legs feeling like jelly, and tried to steady my racing heart.

A silhouette loomed just beyond the glass, blanketing me in shadow; it was the woman. It was then that I felt thin tendrils, cold and wet, caress my right hand. Looking down, I saw the hair from the woman making its way through the crack beneath the door. I jerked my hand back and crawled to the end of the room, making sure not to look at her through the window. I just sat there and stared at the clock, counting down the seconds until at last, six minutes had passed. Just like that, the hair receded from beneath the door and the figure vanished. Heart pounding, I stood up and walked to the door, cautiously opening it as I did so. I let out a sigh of relief; the woman was gone. I collapsed onto the chair at the desk. That was way too close for comfort. I looked at the clock on the wall, which now displayed the time as 8:52 pm.

“What the,” I said to myself, “That can’t be right.” Looking at my phone, I saw the time displayed as 8:32 pm. “Wait, what was that rule about the clocks again?” I mumbled as I pulled out the paper with the rules on it.

Right, I thought to myself, the digital clocks lie. If the analog clock said it was 8:52, then it was 8:52, no matter how off that felt. I suppose time moving differently here wasn’t so surprising, considering all that I had experienced up to this point. According to the report sheet, this time I would have 45 minutes to complete my rounds. In any other facility that would be an ample amount of time, but here… this place operated beyond the confines of reality; who knew what would happen on my rounds? Sighing, I stood up as the clock hands pointed to nine; it was time to start.

This time, I started with Larry’s room first, wanting to get that out of the way. I felt a twang of trepidation as I approached his door, absentmindedly rubbing my injured arm as I reached it. I knocked three times before opening the door.

“Nursing,” I said, voice shaking.

“Come in,” came Larry’s voice.

Gulping, I opened the door and stepped into the room. Seated on the side of the bed was a normal-looking elderly man. He was hunched over, resting his hands on his legs, his kyphosis quite prominent. The darkness that was in the room earlier was gone; in its place was a warm yellow glow from a bedside lamp.

“Hello Larry, I came to check in on you. Is there anything you need at this time?”

“There is,” he said, looking up at me.

I had to stifle a scream. The darkness that I had thought was gone was indeed still present, although not anywhere in the room. His eyes. The darkness was in his eyes. Where his eyes should have been were swirling pools of darkness that looked like a mix between water and fog. The darkness this time felt more concentrated and more dangerous, and I had a hard time breaking away from his gaze. Those eyes… As terrifying as they were, they were also mesmerizing. It almost felt like they were trying to pull me into their infinite depths, depths I would surely never be able to escape from if I fell in.

“What’s the matter? Is there something on my face?” he asked, grinning.

“No sir, my apologies,” I said, his voice bringing me back to reality. “What is it that I can help you with?”

“I’m tired, but I can’t sleep without my… medicine,” he paused, emphasizing the word medicine. “Would you be so kind as to get it for me?”

“Of course, sir.”

I stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind me. I walked back to the nurse station and retrieved the bag the pharmacy had delivered earlier that night. According to his chart, I was to give him his Trazodone and the contents of the bag, which was labeled as a “dietary supplement” to promote sleep. I pulled his medicine from the med-cart parked at the nurse station, placed it in a paper souffle cup, and walked back to his room. Whatever was in the bag smelled awful, like meat left to rot for days in the hot sun. Once more I knocked three times and announced my presence before entering. Larry was sitting in the same spot, his eyes transfixed on the bag I held in my hand.

“Took you long enough; set them there,” he said, gesturing to his bedside table.

I did as he said, placing the pill and bag on his bedside table. He reached down and picked up the cup, tossing it and the pill into his mouth and swallowing.

“Now to wash it down,” he said as he reached for the paper bag.

Like a rabid animal, he feverishly tore into it, littering the floor with scraps of paper. I about gagged when I saw the contents of the bag. Inside were two eyeballs, their stems still attached, covered in a viscous fluid that smelled like a blend of rotting garbage and formaldehyde. Without hesitation, he scooped them up in his hands and proceeded to swallow them as one would swallow spaghetti. A loud and wet slurping sound filled the room, followed by the sound of him licking his fingers in satisfaction.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

Larry held up a hand with his index finger pointed upwards. “One moment.”

Larry closed his eyes, moving his cheeks up and down, before opening them. In place of the darkness were two blue eyes, pupils pinpoint.

“I just wanted to get a good look at you before you left,” he said, smiling. “You may go now, and close the door on your way out.”

“Yes, sir, if you need anything, just call.”

His smile widened even more before he said, “Oh, I will.”

The remainder of the rounds, thankfully, were uneventful. All the residents were in their rooms, and there was no sign of the dark-haired woman to be found. As if it could sense that I had completed my rounds, the phone began to ring.

“New Haven Healthcare, this is Steven, how may—”

“Hey there, friend,” Brad’s voice came from the end of the receiver. “How are you holding up?”

“Brad! I’m so glad it’s you calling and not something else. I’m okay, I think. Larry did a number on my arm, but, aside from that, I’m fine.”

“Hmm,” was all he said, pausing. “You need to be more careful. I told you to follow the rules to the letter, didn’t I? Any rule you break, no matter how small it may seem, could get you killed, or worse.”

“I know, I know.” I paused, debating on whether or not I should tell Brad who it was that I saw when coming on. I decided against it before continuing. “I saw the dark-haired woman.”

“Aye, a real terror that one is. You didn’t look at her face or acknowledge her, did you?”

“No, I locked myself in the med room like I was supposed to.”

“Good, though I suppose if ya did, well, you wouldn’t be talking to me right now, would ya?” He laughed before continuing. “Aside from the surgeon, she’s one creature you don’t want to mess with,” he said, pausing as if to collect his thoughts. “Unlike the other residents here, she will actively hunt you.”

“Hunt me?”

“Aye, she has a habit of appearing during the worst possible times too, but as long as you don’t break the rule, she can’t hurt you.”

“Speaking of which, why is there a surgeon in a nursing home?” I asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Brad chuckled. “Does anything make sense here?”

“No, it certainly does not.”

“Well, friend, I have to go. I have tasks I need to complete, and I don’t want to—oh shit!”

“Brad! Brad! What happened?” I asked, but my only response was the click of his phone followed by the buzzing of the dial tone.

“It was probably the black-haired lady,” came Cheryl’s voice from beside me, causing me to jump in my seat.

“Cheryl, Jesus, don’t do that!” I said, holding my good hand over my heart.

“Sorry,” she simply said before sitting down in the chair next to mine. “Have you seen the… other facility?”

“Other facility? Like a different nursing home?”

“Nuh-uh,” Cheryl shook her head before continuing, “not another building, but another reality.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know the hallway rule, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, a quizzical look etched on my face.

“And the rounding rule—you have one of those too, don’tcha?”
I nodded my head in agreement.

“So think of this place like a mirror. On one side, you have this place, the clean and safe reality. You kn—”

“Uh, I wouldn’t exactly call this place safe,” I interrupted her.

“Trust me, compared to the other side, this place is a haven,” she went on, not showing any contempt with my interruption. “Well, you know how there are two worlds with a mirror, right? The real world and the reflection. This place is like the reflection. The real world is much more terrifying, much more threatening.”

“What do you mean? I don’t remember reading about that in the rules.”

“The rules don’t cover everything; they just help to keep you alive.”

“Have you been there?”

“Only once,” she replied, shivering in her chair, “it’s terrifying. It’s like the complete opposite of this place. It’s oppressive and dark, heavy and horrifying. It’s like someone plucked a nightmare out of the most horrible person you could think of and made it into reality. It’s like it’s alive.”

“A living nightmare? What do you mean?”

“I didn’t finish my rounds on time. One moment I was in a room, and the next, I was plunged into darkness. Oh God, there was so much blood, I almost hurled.”

“So how did you get out?”

“I bolted out into the hallway and ran to the nearest door with a green flag. I sat there for what felt like an eternity before the lights went back out. When they returned, I was back in this world, in an empty room.”

“I don’t quite understand,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

“Oh, how did Brad explain it to me? ‘Certain actions can cause the veil to lift, transporting you to the real building,’ or something like that.”

“Brad sure does know a lot, doesn’t he?”

“He does. He and his girlfriend have saved me so many times; if it weren’t for them, I—”
Cheryl was interrupted once more, but not by me. This time, the phone was the culprit.

“I bet you it was the dark-haired woman,” she said in a hushed tone.

I picked up the receiver, but before I could say anything, Brad’s voice poured through the speaker.

“Sorry about that, bud; that woman really has it in for me tonight,” he said, with a haggard tone to his voice.

“Told you,” Cheryl said, winking.

“Are you okay?” I asked, genuinely concerned for his safety.

“Aye, I’m fine, lad. The old bat thought she’d pull a fast one on me by sneaking up from behind, but I’m onto her games. I made it into the med room safely, and she left, no doubt off to haunt some other poor soul.”

“That’s good. Hey, could I ask you something?”

“Ask away, my friend, ask away.”

“Cheryl was telling me about this alternate reality. What’s that all about?”

“You met Cheryl, did you? I see…” Brad paused.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Oh no, it’s nothing you need to worry about. As for the other world, hmm. Think of it like this—when you enter the second floor, you pass through what I like to call the veil. The veil hides the true nature of this place. Her nature.”

“So it’s like a filter?”

“Yes and no. It functions like one, but it is its own reality. If you end up there, it’s not just a mirage made to torment you; it’s real, and it’s extremely dangerous. In that realm, entities have free rein and can manipulate the laws of physics themselves—well, more than they already do, I suppose.”

“Cheryl said she ended up there by being late on rounds. Is that how you end up in that place?”

“That’s one way, yes, but there are others.”

“Others?” I asked, “What do you mean?”

“One time I came out of a resident’s room with my head buried in their chart. I was so fixated on it that I didn’t realize I was in the infinite hallway, at least not at first. It wasn’t until the smell of iron filled my nostrils that I looked up. What stretched before me was a deteriorating hallway that grew more nightmarish the further down I looked. I was fortunate enough that a green door was directly beside me. I went in and followed the rules for the hallway. When I stepped back out, the hallway had reverted back to its normal appearance. I was. Crap, look at the time, Steven.”

“Huh?” I cocked my head to the side to check the clock; it was 11:01.

“You know what to do,” Brad said before hanging up the receiver.

I hung up the phone as well and promptly made my way to the med room. As I reached for the handle, I could hear a child’s voice coming from one of the rooms near the nurse’s station.

“Come play with us, mister,” came a boy’s voice.

“Yeah, yeah, come play! Come play!” cooed a girl’s voice, followed by maniacal laughter.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I muttered to myself as I unlocked the door and went inside.

The door closed with a loud thud behind me, which was soon followed by the clicking of the deadbolt. Even though the doorknob was always locked to prevent trespass into the med room, the rule said to lock the door, and so I did. I had already broken the rule with rounding, and now I was late on rounds. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall, not shocked to see the time was now 11:14. Just as I was about to sit down in the corner of the room, someone began to pound frantically on the door. Institutionally I turned towards the sound, but quickly averted my gaze downward in case it was the woman. There was more banging, followed by Cheryl’s voice calling from the other side.

“Steven, let me in! Please!” cried Cheryl, the terror audible in her voice.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” I said as I walked to the door, preparing to unlock it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came a soft, sultry voice from behind me.

“What the?” I said, spinning around.

Before me stood a woman with dark brown hair and eyes. Her nose was slender and slightly rounded, her skin slightly tanned and without blemish. She was beautiful. On her chest was a name badge with the name Mary T. She was adorned in plain pale gray scrubs, but she had no identifying features to show what department she worked in, if she even worked here at all. No doubt seeing my apprehension to her sudden appearance, she smiled. There was something benevolent about it, peaceful almost, and though I didn’t know how, I knew she meant me no harm.

“The rules,” she said, as Cheryl’s pounding grew louder and more desperate.

“Shit,” I said as I turned back around, ensuring the deadbolt remained in place. “Thank you, I almost—”

When I turned to thank the woman, she was gone. There was no evidence that she had even existed. Twenty-seven minutes. The pounding and screaming went on for twenty-seven minutes before finally abating. I lifted my head from my knees to check the clock, relieved to see that it was finally midnight. I stood up from my seated position on the floor and walked to the door, peering through the window before unlocking it. The nurse’s station was empty. I stepped out and sat down at the desk, wiggling the mouse to bring the monitor back to life. I stared blankly at the screen, my mind wandering back to my encounter with Mary. Just who was she? And why did she help me? I rubbed my eyes before returning them to the screen. My only task was to hang some Vancomycin for a Louise Bell in room 600 at midnight. I retrieved the bag from the med room but realized I didn’t have any IV tubing. I set the bag down and picked up the phone to see if Brad had any on his side.

“Steven, is everything alright?” Brad asked, a touch of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, wait, how did you know it was me?”

“Caller ID.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling embarrassed.

“So what did you need?”

“I need to hang an IV, but I don’t have any tubing. Do you have any on your side?”

“Aye, we have a box full of that in central supply. I’ll grab you some. Wait for me by the fire doors on 500 Hall.”

“Thanks, man,” I said, hanging up the phone.

I placed the bag in the med cart and locked it, then made my way to the fire doors to meet Brad. I turned the corner and saw him waiting there with the tubing in his hand.

“Here’s a few bags,” he said, handing them to me.

“You’re a lifesaver, man,” I said, stuffing the bags in the front pockets of my scrubs.
I looked up to see the door of a room opening behind Brad. He must have sensed it too, because at that moment he stiffened. Out walked the dark-haired woman, shuffling towards Brad.

“She’s right behind me, isn’t she?” he asked. I simply nodded.

Brad kept his eyes glued to the floor and turned, making his way to the med room with his pursuer close behind. Just as he crossed the threshold of the common area on the north side, a sullen voice called out to Brad from the dark-haired woman.

“Brad. Please. Help me. I’m so cold, so lonely.”

Brad stood there, rooted to the spot, his voice shaking as he spoke. “Ashley?”

I watched as the woman began to flicker, as if she were a glitch in the matrix, and when her form re-solidified, she was a perfect replica of the day nurse. I had to warn him. I had to tell him to run, that it wasn’t her, but when I tried to speak, my words caught in my throat, sending me into a coughing fit. Suddenly the fire doors slammed shut on me with a loud bang, sending me to the ground. I landed hard on my back, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I lay there for a moment before coming out of my stupor. Quickly, I got to my feet and ran to the door.

When I tried to push it open, the doors would only budge an inch. Through the crack I could see thick chains; they must have been wrapped around the handles on the other side. I watched hopelessly through the windows as the woman extended her arms towards Brad, who was now walking toward her, grief etched all over his face. I banged on the door, coughing, and began to hoarsely call out to him.

“Brad! Brad! Get away! It’s not her! Brad!” My voice grew louder with each phrase, but my words fell on deaf ears.

Brad reached up, placing a hand on her cheek, tears beginning to well in his eyes. “Ashley, is it really you?”

“Yes, dear. I’ve missed you so much,” she replied, wrapping her arms around him.

“I’ve—” Brad choked on some tears. “I’ve missed you too.”

At this point I tried ramming my shoulder into the doors in desperation, trying to get in, but it was to no avail. I slammed both fists into the doors, calling out to Brad once more.

“Brad, you have to run. It’s not Ashley; it’s the dark-haired woman!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Oh no…” he said, eyes widening in terror. “What have I done?”

Those would be the last words I’d hear Brad speak. She flickered once more and returned to her true form. Brad tried to run, but it was no use. With a swiftness not unlike that of a wild animal, she pulled her left arm from behind his back and wrapped it tightly around his neck before he could even turn around. Brad struggled, flailing at her hand as she lifted him from the floor with ease. With great force and brutality, she hurled Brad effortlessly into the adjacent wall, as if he were nothing but a rag doll she had grown bored playing with. There was a sickening crack followed by a thud as he landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, blood beginning to pool from the back of his head. She reached down with her right hand, her fingers outstretched far longer than should have been possible. She positioned her hand over his head, then gripped down tightly, causing blood to leak from his nose.

“Brad! Wake up, damn it! Brad, please!” I banged on the door as she began to drag him down the hall towards an elevator that stood at the other end of the common area, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.

There was a ding as the doors slid open, the light inside flickering sporadically. She had to hunch over significantly to fit inside it. As the doors began to slide shut, I saw Brad weakly raise an arm, as if he were reaching out to me, or perhaps to Ashley, and then he and the woman disappeared behind the closed doors.

“Brad, no…” I banged on the doors once more with my fists and slid down to my knees.

I don’t know how long I sat there, bent over, with tears falling gracefully from my eyes. He was gone. The man who helped me. The man who I looked up to as a mentor. Even though I had only met him yesterday, it felt as though I’d lost a friend I had known my entire life. I pushed myself up from the floor and wiped my eyes. As depressed as I was, I still had a task to do, and Brad would have wanted me to stay safe. I walked back to the nurse station, grabbed the bag from the med cart, and went to the room to hang it. I knocked on the door to room 600 three times and entered after announcing my presence.

Louise was a short woman curled up in her bed, wrapped tight under several layers of covers. She didn’t speak; she simply held out her arm for me. I placed a syringe of heparin on her bedside table for when the infusion was complete. After hanging the bag and priming the tubing, I cleaned the port to her PICC line with an alcohol wipe and then flushed her with a syringe of saline. After that was done, I connected her to the pump. I ensured the line was not clamped or kinked and then ran it on the previous settings after checking to make sure that they matched what was ordered. I made a mental note to come back in an hour to disconnect her from it when the infusion was finished. My task complete, I made my way back to the nurses’ station. I slumped down in the chair and buried my head in my arms and began to cry once more.

“I feel for you and for him,” came that same sultry voice from before, “but this is what happens if you break the rules.”

“Mary?” I choked, raising my head to see her sitting in the chair Cheryl had been sitting in earlier that night.

“You have to stay vigilant in this place. Your emotions must be replaced with stoicism. He let his grief get the better of him. Perhaps he had given up long ago and saw this as a way to be reunited with his love. Or maybe he was tired and finally succumbed to this place. Who’s to say?”

“Just who are you?” I asked.

“My name is Mary Oneida Toups. I’ve acted as a sentry for this place for well over a hundred years.”

“Wait, I know you! I did a report on you in high school, but you died in 1981, so how could you have been here for that long, and why?”

Mary smiled. “Time, my dear, works very differently here. While it is true I passed in 1981, I have been stuck in this place for far longer than a few decades. To answer your second question, I suppose you could say I’m a spirit bound to this place to thwart her plans of breaking free.”

“By her, do you mean the night supervisor?”

“How very astute of you,” she replied, crossing her legs as she reclined a bit in her chair.

“What exactly is she?”

“She is an ancient evil that I and my fellow coven attempted to seal away a long time ago. For centuries, she would prey upon any unfortunate soul foolish enough to wander into these woods. When one of my sisters went missing in the area, we knew that she must have been the cause.

“One night we cornered that entity and tricked her into walking into a magic circle, trapping her in this very location. We knew the circle would only last as long as it remained intact, and that we needed a more permanent solution to trap her forever. In the end, we used a ritual to bind her spirit to a pendant that belonged to her last victim.”

“Your sister,” I stated.

Mary nodded before continuing, “My sister. After binding it to the pendant, we sealed it inside a steel box and dug a deep hole into the land. We poured cement into the bottom before dropping the box into the hole. We then emptied the rest of it on top of the box in hopes of preventing it from ever being opened, then covered the remaining hole with dirt.
“For years my sisters and I held an ever-vigilant eye on this area of the woods, eventually purchasing the land. We built a small cabin where I remained until my death. We never told anyone of what transpired in these woods, thinking it best for that demon to be lost to time. As I was the one who headed the ritual, my spirit too was bound to the pendant, and so I remained. My body was buried beneath these very grounds by what remained of my original coven. Over time my sisters died off, one by one, and soon I too was forgotten. I watched as this place became forgotten and dilapidated, which was for the best, for the evil trapped deep within the confines of that box should never be freed.

“Over time, however, the seal began to weaken. As for why, I know not, but nevertheless, that entity spread her influence to the surrounding woods once more, albeit with a limited reach. Slowly she reached out to those who were susceptible to her will, calling them to build this structure over my remains, no doubt to spite me. At first I was puzzled. Why would it not try to break its seal completely? The answer was so simple; here she had access to as many victims as she wanted. She needn’t do much after casting her net, for her prey came much in the same way you did. That is to say, they came guided by greed and promises of riches.

“The demon is a malevolent creature that takes great pleasure in tormenting and toying with her prey. I would surmise your friend had endured all he could, and in that moment of weakness, she was able to claim him.” She stood up and began to make her way to the elevator near the nurse station.

“Wait, don’t go in there—”

She held up a hand to silence me. “I am not of the living, nor am I one of the unfortunate who are claimed by her. As such, I am not bound by her rules, but you are. Heed my warning. You must do your best to play her game, and when the time comes, I hope you have the wisdom to reject your greed.” With that, the elevator doors opened and she walked inside. She flashed me a smile as the doors slid shut, and like that, I was alone once again.
Before I knew it, 1:00 am rolled around, which meant I had rounds to do. Mary’s words still echoed in the far reaches of my mind. And what exactly did she mean by rejecting my greed? I didn’t consider myself greedy at all. Could Mary have meant the supervisor would try to make me a deal? I brushed off those thoughts as I approached Larry’s room. To my relief, Larry told me to leave when I knocked on his door. This time, however, I remembered to bow and exited his room without incident. By the time I made it to the 600 hall, Louise’s IV alarm was sounding.

“Oh right,” I said to myself, “the infusion should be finished by now.”

I knocked on her door but received no response. Hesitantly, I opened the door and stepped inside her room, closing it shut behind me. As it was late, I decided to leave her bathroom door ajar to make use of the light pouring out from within. Louise remained under her many blankets, with just her arm protruding out from beneath them. I walked over to the pump, with “infusion complete” displayed on the monitor and silenced the alarm. I washed my hands and put on some gloves before preparing to remove the IV tubing from her PICC. I prepped the heparin syringe and swapped it with the IV tubing; however, when I attempted to flush her line, I was met with complete resistance.

“Pardon me, ma’am, would it be alright if I turned on your overhead light?” I asked, but she didn’t respond.

As I reached for the cord to turn on her light, my leg bumped into her arm. There was a loud thud as something heavy landed next to my feet. With anxiety beginning to rise, I looked down, knowing what I would find. Resting on the floor was her arm, cut off near the shoulder with surgical precision. With a trembling hand, I reached over and pulled back her covers. I wish I hadn’t. The putrid smell of rot and decay hit me like a ton of bricks. On the bed was her torso, cut open with all of her organs removed. In their place were both of her legs, each cut into two pieces, and her other arm. Maggots squirmed on top of their buffet of flesh. I puked right into the trashcan and ran out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me.

I finished my rounds with ten minutes to spare and then made my way back towards the nurse station. I noticed Cheryl was sitting at the desk in her usual spot, charting on a computer. I sat there and just stared at my screen, still processing what I had just seen.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Cheryl said, turning away from her screen.

“It’s Louise. She’s… she’s dead. Her intestines were missing, and her arms and legs were cut clean off and shoved into her empty chest cavity.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, seemingly not phased by the gruesome scene I had just described. “I’ll clean the mess up on my next set of rounds.”

I just stared at her. “How can you be so nonchalant about this? Does it not bother you?”

Cheryl shrugged her shoulders. “When you’ve worked here as long as I have, you just kind of get used to it. It’s not the first time I’ve had to dispose of a body, and it won’t be the last. I’ll take it to the morgue in a bit, don’tcha worry about it.”

“Excuse me? Did you say the morgue?”

“Well, where else would I put the body? In the break room?” She chuckled to herself, bemused by her own joke.

“Why does a nursing home have a mor—you know what, never mind.”

“Now you’re catching on,” she said, smiling at me and winking.

“I don’t know why the hell I’m asking this, but where exactly is the morgue?”

“All the way down,” she said, pointing downwards toward the floor. “In the basement.”

“I wasn’t aware this place had a basement.”

“It does, well, unofficially, that is. You can only get to it via the elevators; it doesn’t matter which one you use.”

“The elevators? Don’t the rules say not to use them?”

“We have our own rules, and under certain circumstances, I can safely use the elevators. Here, this is for you,” she said, rummaging in her bag for something. Moments later, she pulled out a folded and crumpled piece of paper. “It’s a little worn for wear, but it should help you out,” she said, handing me the paper.

“What is it?” I asked, taking it from her outstretched hand.

“It’s a map of the facility. I made it when I first started working here. I pretty much know the lay of the land here now, so I don’t need it anymore.”

“Oh, well, thank you!” I said as I began to unfold the paper.

“Hey, no problem. If you ever need anything, just let me know. I’ll be happy to—crap,” she said, looking up at the clock, “I have to go do my rounds. Stay safe, Steven.”

“The same to you,” I said as she walked down the hall.

Now completely unfolded, I looked at the paper she had given me. On it was a crudely drawn map. The front showed the first floor, while the back displayed the second floor and basement. The basement was an L-shaped hall with just three rooms. To the right of the elevator was the boiler room, with a room labeled “employee records” directly across from it. Around the corner was the morgue, with the door leading to the stairwell resting at the end of the hall. Written in sloppy handwriting was the following: Don’t wake up the thing in the boiler room.

A crash sounded from down the hall, startling me. I folded the map and placed it next to the rules in my pocket, then proceeded to investigate the cause of the sound. It came from around the corner of the common area. As I turned the corner, I heard it again; it was coming from outside. The door to room 622 was ajar, a flickering light dancing on the opposite wall. The flag above the door was green, and when I peered inside, it was vacant. Once more I heard a loud crash. No, that wasn’t right; it was more like a clanging. There was a single window in the room where the courtyard was. I walked over to it and gripped the windowsill with white knuckles, fighting an intense feeling of vertigo.

It was raining outside, but the courtyard was wrong, all wrong. Where the ground should have been was a seemingly endless expanse of windows stretching downward until the darkness consumed them. The same held true for the opposing direction. Directly across from me, a ginormous clock jutted out from the wall. Its face was contorted in a sinister manner; the hour and minute hands sharpened into fine points that looked to be smeared with blood. Rusty gears moaned, straining to move from eons of neglect. Each time the minute hand tried to move forward, it was followed by a clanging sound that emitted from deep within it. It almost sounded like it was in pain, like it was hungry.

“Steven,” a whisper came from the other side of the window. “Come closer.”

The voice was mesmerizing, an alluring siren drawing me near, welcoming me to the abyss that surely awaited me. Unable to resist, I leaned against the glass, hearing it groan beneath my weight.

“That’s it. Now climb onto the windowsill.”

I listened, placing one knee after the other onto the ledge. Fine dust rained down on me from the ceiling, but I paid it no heed. A voice in my head was screaming at me to get away from the window, but the other voice was even stronger. That terrible force that compelled me was so strong, it was impossible for me to resist. Ahead of me, the minute hand of the clock seemed to be straining to move forward, twitching fervently and with great ferocity. The feeling it cast unto me was hard to describe. It wasn’t moving time; it was moving my time, it was moving me, pulling—no, that wasn’t right. Dragging. It was dragging me deeper into its metallic clutches.

“Good, now push.” Crack. Fine lines formed on the glass window from where my hands were pressing.

“More, keep going.” More cracking, this time with the clanging of the clock. Was it even bigger than before?

Fine tendrils almost as dark as the void below began to seep from behind the face of the clock, extending outwards and reaching for me. The way they jerked and swayed was reminiscent of a marionette controlled by a novice puppeteer. They had a kind of sheen to them, though the only light seemed to be coming from the room I was in. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise as they drew ever closer. It wasn’t solely the clock that they came from. The groan of the clock was complemented by the shattering of countless windows across from me as even more tendrils reached out from the void. Dark red blood began to ooze from the windows, and a thought happened upon my mind. Were the tendrils comprised of coagulating blood, and if so, then whose?

“Just a little more. One more push and you can rest. With me. Forever.”

I pushed harder, feeling the window beginning to bulge forward, cracks rippling across the pane like fine lightning. If I put my shoulders into it, maybe I could—

“Steven! What are you doing?” Cheryl screamed from behind me.

At that moment I was brought to my senses, but it was too little, too late. The window could no longer hold out against the stress I was placing on it, and I felt it give way, shattering into thousands of pieces of fine sand, shimmering in the light. They were beautiful. I flapped my arms like a bird trying to fly for the first time as gravity pulled me forward. Had it not been for Cheryl suddenly grabbing me by the waist and pulling me back, I would have fallen, maybe even forever. The last thing I saw before we hit the floor was those tendrils shaking maniacally.

“What were you thinking?” She scolded me, her face a mix of anger and fear.

“I heard a crash and went to—”

“Never mind that,” she said, cutting me off as she pulled me to my feet. “We’ve got to get out of this room. Now!”

As we exited, the door slammed shut behind us. Cheryl reached up and turned the flag to red before turning back to face me.

“What rule did you break?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“I don’t know. The door was ajar, and the flag was green. There was no one in the room, so I went in, and—” my eyes widened. “I forgot to knock.”

“Thank god it wasn’t a major rule, like the dark-haired woman.” Cheryl said, beckoning me to walk with her back towards the nurse station. “Still though, you’re lucky I happened to be on this hall; otherwise, you would have been taken.”

“Taken?” I asked. “By whom?”

“By her. The supervisor. The rules aren’t there to keep you safe; they’re there for you to break them. One slip-up here, one mishap there, and you could die. What were you doing on the window ledge anyway?”

“I don’t know. It was calling to me, and I couldn’t help myself.”

“What was?”

“The clock.”

“The clock?” His face went pale. “What time was it?”

“The time? I don’t know; why does that matter?”

“Tell me!” Her voice began to shake with panic. “It wasn’t close to midnight, was it? Please God, tell me it wasn’t close to midnight!” Cheryl grabbed me, squeezing my arms tightly.

“I think it was like 12:05, but why does that matter?”

“Thank god,” she sighed, releasing me from her grip.

“Cheryl, what’s the deal with that clock?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” she asked, diverting her eyes away from mine.

“Yes, tell me.”

“It’s both the heart of this place and your soul personified.”

“My soul what?”

“You said it was 12:05, right?”

I nodded, a look of befuddlement on my face.

“Five percent. You’ve lost five percent of your soul. Had you fallen, this place would have consumed the entirety of your soul, and then you’d be stuck here like I am.” Her eyes began to water, no doubt from the memories of her past life resurfacing, leaving fresh wounds on her heart.

“Cheryl, I—”

She shook her head. “You don’t need to say it. I’m just glad I made it before it was too late.”

“Speaking of that, why did you save me? Hell, how did you even know where I was?”

“I couldn’t let you end up like me. As for how I found you, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. It was like a voice was whispering in my mind, but with feelings in place of words, guiding me to you.”

“Do you think it was, you know, her?” I asked.

“No, this feeling was different. This time it was kind and welcoming. Warm. It was so warm. I had almost forgotten what that felt like.” She turned her head to the side, staring down the hall as if she were lost in thought. “I need to get back to work now. Please try to be more careful.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Thank you for saving me.”

Cheryl shook her head. “It’s nothing; just try not to break any more rules.”

Cheryl excused herself and disappeared around the corner while I stood there, contemplating what she had just said. The rules are made to be broken. “She’s hungry,” I thought to myself, “and I’m the main course.” My thoughts were interrupted by a shadow looming over me. I started to raise my head when I saw it—the long dark hair wiggling like snakes; it was her. I began to slowly back away. If I could put some distance between us, I could move around her and get to the med room. I pivoted on my feet and was met with an eerie red glow. Directly in front of me was the operating room, the light above the door signaling an operation was in progress. With the shadow closing in and nowhere else to turn, I steeled myself and then pushed the doors open. There was an audible click, and I found myself stumbling into the operating room.

The doors closed with a dull thud, and I took a moment to observe my surroundings. Their room was smaller than I thought it would be, with white walls without a single blemish. There were several shelves with supplies behind glass doors. Next to one was an empty cart with a sign designating it as a crash cart. In the center of the room was the operating table with a large light pointed downward. The surgeon was there, fast at work, moving feverishly. His hulking figure blocked my view of the table, so I was unable to see who or what he was operating on. The rule—what was the rule? I pulled the paper out of my pocket, thanking whatever god was out there for the insight to keep it on my person. It took me a second to find what I was looking for.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” I said, praying he wouldn’t acknowledge my presence.

“No worries, I could actually use some help. Would you mind giving me a hand?” His voice was deep and guttural.

“Of course, sir,” I said, “I’ll wash my hands and be right there.”

“No need. Put on a mask and gloves, then get over here,” he commanded, pointing a bloodied finger to the opposite side of the table.

I obeyed, walking around to the other side and feeling my heart sink in my chest. There, lying on the table, was Brad, his eyes glazed over and frozen with a look of terror on them. His entire chest cavity was opened up, ribs cut with surgical precision, and organs on full display. The mask did nothing to help with the smell. I fought back the urge to throw up and took my place at the table. Directly to my right was a metal cart with surgical tools thrown haphazardly across its surface.

“Scalpel,” he said, outstretching his hand towards me.

I handed it to him and watched as he began to remove the liver. He made quick work of it, tossing it into a metal bowl near him. Next were the kidneys, followed by the lungs. Each removal was followed by a squelching sound as he placed the organs one on top of the other. When he reached the heart, he paused, as if thinking how best to proceed, before he looked up at me.

“Pick it up by about two inches.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, raising the heart to the desired height. It was still warm. Its weight distorted by guilt.

“Good, now don’t move, unless you want to lose a finger or two,” he chuckled to himself, as if he had said the funniest thing in the world.

He stared at it for a moment more before making the last decisive cuts. Once the heart was free, he wrenched it from my grasp. Not bothering to remove his gloves, he pulled off his mask and smiled. His mouth was full of far too many teeth, all of which were sharp and serrated, not unlike that of a shark’s. Saliva dripped from his mouth as he brought the heart to his nose, inhaling deeply, relishing the scent.

“It tastes so much better warm,” he said to me, grin stretching even wider as he took a bite from the pericardium, the thin membrane tearing with a wet snap as he did so.

I watched him chew and chew and chew, ever so slowly, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as he savored each and every bite. When he had swallowed the last bite, he slurped each of his fingers, not wanting to waste even a drop. Sighing with satisfaction, he looked down at his handiwork and noticed a piece of heart resting on the table. He picked it up and then handed it to me.

“Eat,” he said simply.

With trembling hands, I took the piece of muscle from him and lowered my mask. I looked down at it, staring through it, deep in thought. I knew what I had to do. The rules were absolute, and to defy them would mean being met with terrible consequences. I couldn’t help but think back to the clock. Five percent of my soul was already gone. How much longer until she could control me, I wondered. I raised the strip of muscle to my face, scrunching it in disgust as the smell hit me.

“Go on. Eat,” he said again, this time more forcibly than before.

I swallowed my spit before tossing the piece of muscle into my mouth. I began to chew. It was tough, and the flavor was horrible. As I chewed, a grin spread across the surgeon’s face.

“See? What did I say? Delicious, is it not?” he said as he salivated at the sight of me chewing.

Finally I swallowed, forcing myself to keep it down and not throw it up. Satisfied with my actions, the surgeon once more averted his attention to the operating table.

“That will be all,” he said as he placed his hands back into the corpse. “You may go.”

I exited the operating room with great haste, still fighting to hold back the bile welling up in my throat, a battle I would soon lose. I rushed to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door, and deposited my stomach contents into the waiting toilet. I sat there, hunched over and coughing, tears streaming down my eyes until the nauseousness finally abated. After washing my face and hands in the sink, I returned to my desk and just sat there, staring blankly ahead.

“First time?” Cheryl’s voice sounded from her usual spot. I simply nodded, not wanting to speak at the moment. “I remember my first time. It was brutal, but work here long enough and it won’t bother you anymore.”

I turned to face her. “Won’t bother me? I don’t think I could ever be desensitized to a point where something like that wouldn’t traumatize me.”

“Ha ha ha, I said the same thing myself, but look at me now,” she said, gesturing to herself before continuing, “trust me, you’ll see. If you last long enough, that is.” She winked at the last part.

“Har har, very funny,” I said, rolling my eyes at her. “Say, have you seen Mary around anywhere?”

“Mary?”

“Yeah, the woman in the gray scrubs.”

“I don’t know of any Mary that works here. Are you feeling okay?” Cheryl asked, concern in her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well,” she said, pausing to collect her thoughts, “this place does mess with your head. Maybe you saw something that the supervisor conjured up?”

“Yeah, that could be it,” I said, absentmindedly scratching the top of my head. Was I the only one who could see her?

The ringing of a call light sounded, the source being room 509, which was situated directly across from the elevator. I got up and walked to the door to answer it. I don’t know why I put my hand on the handle when the sound of children’s laughter echoed from within, nor do I know why they sounded like Jack and Emily, my deceased siblings. Maybe my brain was fried from what I saw in the operating room, or maybe I was just tired; I couldn’t say. The last thing I remember was the dinging of the elevator and being pushed inside. I landed on my butt and watched as the doors began to slide shut, catching a glimpse of what was in that room.

Much like Larry, they seemed to materialize from the darkness. They reminded me of voodoo dolls. Their heads were swollen and disproportionate, their eyes black and gleaming with malice, and their skin a hue of blue. They were dressed in the same clothes my brother and sister were wearing the day they drowned. They wore matching smiles that looked as if they were stitched on in a hurry. They weren’t my siblings. They just stood there staring, reaching for me in unison. Their lips parted, thread straining in place, and a clear, viscous fluid seeped onto the floor. No words came from their mouths, only gurgling. There was a click as the doors slid into place, and the elevator began its descent.

“You’re really quite bad at this, you know that?”

I turned to see Mary standing to my left in the back corner of the elevator. As the elevator continued its descent, the gears moaned in protest, threatening to give way at any time.

“Mary, what are you doing here?”

“Trying to protect my kin.”

“Pardon? You’re family?”

“Correct. Have you not thought it strange that a spirit would try so hard to protect you?” she asked, crossing her arms. “When you walked into room 616 without knocking, who do you think whispered in Cheryl’s ear that you were in danger?”

“You did?”

“I did. And when you heard your dead siblings calling, who do you think shoved you into this elevator?”

“You did,” I said, eyes widening as my brain finally caught up to the present. “Oh god, why the elevator?”

Mary sighed. “While dangerous, this was a far better alternative to you dying. Had those things gotten a hold of you, not even I would have been able to save you.”

“They sounded like my brother and sister…”

“That’s the work of the supervisor. She’s able to see into your memories and use them against you. That’s why you must remain constantly vigilant.”

“Thank you, Mary, for saving me.”

“I can’t always be there to save you. You understand that?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now listen closely. When these doors open, you won’t be in a particularly safe area. Find the stairs, and do it quickly.” She paused as the elevator ground to a halt. “And whatever you do, don’t let the mortician find you. If he does, then not even I can help you.”
I pushed myself up from the floor, and when I returned my gaze to the door, she was gone. There was a clicking sound, and slowly the doors began to slide open, although with a struggle. I tried pushing both the close door and second floor buttons, but they didn’t respond. Of course they didn’t. The hallway that stretched before me was long, made of stone, and dimly lit by flickering lights that swung from the ceiling. I slowly crept from the elevator, trying not to make a sound, when a creaking sound emanated from behind. I turned my head and watched the doors shut close behind me. There was no turning back now.

To my left were two large metal doors with thick handles that were clasped shut with heavy chains and multiple locks. A badly bent “Do Not Enter” sign lay in a puddle of dark water that seeped from beneath the door. A strange mechanical sound emanated from within the room, followed by a deep rumbling. Straining my ears, I could hear heavy footfalls, as if something big was walking just beyond the doors. I shuddered, not wanting to imagine what kind of creature could be lurking in there. The chained doors offered little in reassurance.
To the right was a door with a faded sign that read “Employee Records.” Something about that room called out to me, and I found myself opening the door. It was a small square room, about the size of a small office, with a wooden desk in the middle. On top of the desk sat a small reading lamp, its string swaying slightly as if someone had turned it off mere moments ago. To the left of the desk rested a three-door filing cabinet, its ebony metal faded with age. Bookshelves lined the sides of both walls, stuffed with numerous books and binders, all covered with a thick layer of dust.

I walked over to the desk, pulling on the drawstring of the lamp, mildly surprised that it even turned on. Unlike the bookshelves, there wasn’t a single speck of dust on the desk. I turned my gaze to the filing cabinet, reading the yellowed labels that were attached to the doors. The bottom read “Newspaper Articles,” the second read “Employee Records,” while the label for the top had been removed, replaced with scratches along the metal’s surface.
I sat down and opened the bottom drawer. Inside were various newspaper clippings. Some were in good condition, while others were yellowed with age and frail. I pulled the stack out and read the headlines. They were all articles on missing persons in the same area that the nursing facility was in. The oldest dated back to the 1900s, while the newest was from 2024. One read: young boy (12) missing from family hiking trip. Parents state they had lost sight of their son, Timothy, for a few seconds when he disappeared from the hiking trail. Authorities are advising… I put the article down and picked up a newer one from the drawer. This one was titled: “Nurse missing weeks after starting employment at (redacted).” The article went on to describe the person and their last known whereabouts.

“These are memoirs she keeps of her victims,” Mary’s voice came from my side, startling me.

“Jesus Mary, don’t do that.”

She didn’t apologize for startling me; she just stood there as if lost in thought. “This was before she grew as strong as she is today.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the past, her countless victims did not go without notice. Now she is able to erase the memories of those who knew the victims, or rather, those who are not a part of this place. Countless people have gone missing in these woods whenever she fed, and every soul she devours only increases her power.”

“Didn’t they ever investigate the missing persons?”

“Of course they did, but with no evidence as to what fate befell the victims, the trail would grow cold, and they would eventually become just another statistic. The authorities just chalked it up to animal attacks; after all, we are surrounded by woods. As I previously stated, as she fed and grew in power, she began to develop new abilities, such as being able to erase the unfortunate souls who crossed her path from people’s memories. But that’s not all she is capable of. She has servants that she uses to extend her reach well beyond the walls of this facility.”

“What about a person’s belongings? Wouldn’t that be cause for suspicion?”

“A shrewd conclusion, but that’s what her servants are for. They are a part of her, and as such, have a part of her magic imbued in their souls. If you were her, what would you do?”

“Hmm,” I thought to myself for a moment before answering. “If I were her, I suppose I’d remove every trace of them so as not to draw suspicion. Does she really have that much sway over this town?”

“Indeed. While she may be trapped here, her reach is wide. I daresay the fault lies with me, for I should have done more to seal away her power.”

I put the papers back in the drawer, closing it, and then opened the second drawer. Inside were rows upon rows of folders, each with the name of past and current employees. The files had their names, age, and time of harvest. I felt a shiver run up my spine at that last part. In the back was a folder with my name on it, but thankfully, it was empty. Even so, I still found the situation to be more than a bit unsettling.

“Well, if anything, she’s methodical; I’ll give her that,” I said, closing the cabinet before turning to face Mary. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

“Go on,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Why me? Did she pick me or was it just pure happenstance? And why am I the only one who can see you?”

“That was three questions,” she said, chuckling, “but I’ll answer them. If a person wanders into her domain with a particular flavor to their soul, she’ll sample them in a dream. Did you, by chance, have a dream about her recently?”

“Now that you mention it, I did actually.” Recollection of the dream I had about her came flooding back with a surge of panic and dread.

“That makes sense; no doubt you being a blood relative to me also played a role in her interest; after all, it was I who sealed her away all those years ago. No doubt she wishes to seek vengeance on my ancestors as a means of penance for my actions. Or perhaps she hopes to use you as a means of freeing herself from her prison. Who’s to say? As for why you’re the only one that can see me, well, that’s quite simple: blood. However thin it may be from the passage of time, you still are and will always remain tied to me by blood. It’s that very bond that allows us to interact with one another.”

I pulled on the top drawer, but it wouldn’t budge. There was no lock on it. Could the mechanism be broken? Well, whatever the case, it was obvious she didn’t want me snooping around in there.

“Newspaper clippings aren’t her only trophies. She also likes to keep small trinkets of those she claims,” Mary said matter-of-factly.

Abandoning my curiosity, I turned to Mary and asked, “How many victims has she claimed over the years?”

“Who’s to say?” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “She’s an eldritch horror that’s been in these woods since time immemorial. I daresay you could comb through the plethora of books and binders on those bookshelves for clues, but you may not like what you find.” Mary walked to the door and opened it, stepping out into the hallway before she turned back to me. “I wouldn’t recommend it though. If you don’t want to end up as her latest addition to that filing cabinet, I would spend as little time down here as possible.” With that, she closed the door and was gone.

I sat there deep in thought, finding it difficult to process everything that Mary had just told me. Even more vexing was if the supervisor had control over this place, why would she allow me to see all of this? A noise sounded from inside the boiler room, snapping me back to reality. Mary was right. Even if any of the books held answers, I wasn’t safe here. I needed to keep moving. I closed the filing cabinet and shut off the lamp before standing up. I walked to the door and paused, looking over my shoulder at the bookcases. There was an urge to go back and bury my nose in them, but I remained steadfast and walked out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind me.

I stood alone in the hallway, my only companion my shadow. I continued walking to the end of the corridor, where it made a sharp right. This hallway was considerably shorter than the one I had just walked down and had two doors near the end. The door on the left read “Morgue,” while the door on the right read “Exit.” As I walked past the morgue, I could have sworn I heard whispering coming from behind the door. I shuddered and approached the door marked “exit.” It was a thick metal door with an equally thick rectangular pane of what appeared to be bulletproof glass. Peering through it, I could see a staircase going up. I placed my hand on the knob and turned it, only to find that the door was locked. I wondered, could the key be in the morgue?

Unlike the door to the stairwell, there was no window on this door. It was comprised of rusted metal that creaked loudly when I opened it. The air was thick with the smell of formaldehyde permeating the surroundings. Before me was a rectangular room with sixteen gurneys complete with corpses beneath white sheets, divided into two neat columns on both sides of the room. At the end of the room was a large rectangular mirror mounted to the wall. Its reflection only served to intensify the already morbid scene that lay before me. Upon closer inspection, the second gurney on the right had just a sheet with a tag placed neatly on top of it.

As I took a step forward, the door to the morgue slammed shut with a resounding bang. I turned around, afraid of what I might see behind me, but there was nothing there. I turned back around to make my way to the only gurney that didn’t have a body on it when I froze in place. There, reflected in the mirror, were the bodies, only they weren’t lying down; they were sitting straight up. As if they could sense my gaze upon them, they slowly turned their heads with jerky movements in unison, only stopping when they were all facing me. In a small mercy, they remained draped with the white cloth.

Another loud bang sounded in the distance, followed by the sound of something big moving across the stone floor. I felt the color drain from my face. The mortician. I looked around the room for any place to hide, but there was nothing. No cabinets, no closets, nothing spare for the empty gurney. I quickly made my way to it, stopping when I saw what was written on the tag; it was my name. That wasn’t the only thing that caught my eye. A small silver key was on the edge of the gurney next to mine, clutched in a pale hand with IV tubing still hanging from the forearm. It was Louise. Before I could get to it, I heard the turning of a door handle behind me. Shit. I climbed on top of the gurney that had my name tag and threw the sheet over me, keeping a small sliver open so that I could watch the door.

All at once the door flew open, screaming as it was pushed against the stone floor with great force. What followed that was something straight out of a nightmare. Heavy thuds sounded as the skull of a wolf protruded through the opening. The thing raised its maw into the air, sniffing, before making its way into the room. In the sockets were sunken yellow orbs with dilated pupils. Reddish-pink flesh like that of a burn victim grew from just above the eyes. Two large and pointed ears twitched, no doubt scanning for the noise I made entering this room. Around its neck hung a worn stethoscope, fused in several places to the skin. Just below it was a badge that simply read “Mortician.” It wore a ragged white lab coat that was stained with old blood. Its limbs were longer than normal with skin stretched taut over bone. It ran a humanoid hand with long black claws across one of the gurneys across from me before flipping it to the floor.

Snarling, it turned its head in my direction and began sniffing some more. As it stepped further into the room, I could see it was bipedal, although the feet were a mix of human and wolf, like that of a werewolf. Each toe ended in the same black claws that adorned its hands. Tattered remains of what used to be black pants clung to its torso. Its rib cage protruded, giving it an emaciated appearance. As it began to approach the gurney where I lay, my nostrils were filled with the acrid odor of death. I held my breath, not wanting it to hear me breathe or gag from the odor.

With one of its hands, it grabbed the sheet near my feet and began to raise it. Just when I thought all hope was lost, a soft thud sounded from my right. It let go of the sheet and, with lightning-fast speed, moved upon the gurney that held Louise’s corpse. There was a loud crash as it brought the gurney down, followed by the clanging of a small metallic object reverberating off the stone floor. I could hear heavy thuds as it made its way across the floor, dragging what was left of Louise with it. I braved a peek, quietly lifting the edge of the sheet, and watched as it approached the mirror and walked through it, causing it to ripple like a small pond does when it’s disturbed. I watched it walk to the reflected door, the corpse’s gaze following it, and then disappear behind it.

I lay there, finally daring to breathe again, tasting the lingering smell of that thing in my mouth. When I was brave enough to sit up, I did so cautiously, not wanting to draw the attention of the mortician. There was a trail of blood from the overturned gurney that led to the mirror and then midway up it, continuing through the reflected door. Thankfully, the reflections of the corpses were lying down and still once more. I averted my gaze back to the floor, scanning each and every crevice until I found what I was looking for. There, lying next to a drain, was a small silver key. After getting to my feet, I bent over and picked it up, hoping it would fit the door leading to the stairs.

I cautiously made my way to the door, which remained ajar. Carefully, I slid between the door and the door frame, making sure not to touch it, lest I alert the mortician to my location. I looked down the hallway, half expecting to see the hulking figure looming in the darkness, but it was empty. I approached the door leading to the stairwell, key in hand, and unlocked it, pushing it open. As I did so, the creaking of a door sounded from behind me. I turned my head and saw a pale, wrinkled hand wrap fingers around the door to the morgue, followed by long, dark hair that moved like snakes. It was her.

I pushed open the door and slammed it shut behind me, turning the lock in place. I then proceeded to take the stairs up two steps at a time. As I ascended, I could hear the door to the stairwell open and the soft thud of footsteps. Up and up I climbed, well past ten floors, sweat dripping down from my forehead. My muscles ached, but I dared not slow down, not with her behind me. At last I reached the top of the stairwell, and a door came into sight. I pushed it open and found myself in a dimly lit hallway. It looked like the second floor but more dilapidated. The floor tiles were covered with grime and cracked in some places. The wallpaper was wet and peeling. Insulation hung from the ceiling, and only a few of the overhead lights still worked. The hall was littered with wheelchairs covered in rust and dirt. Numerous rooms were to my right, their numbers illegible, the wooden doors consumed by rot. To my left were barred windows and an endless expanse of darkness stretching as far as the eye could see.

I walked over to one and peered outside, but there was nothing to see aside from the darkness; it was as if the hallway were floating in some nightmarish alternate reality. Perhaps it was. Just then, the door behind me began to creak open. I glanced behind me to see the dark-haired woman hunched over as she exited the door. How the hell did she catch up to me already?

“Shit,” I cursed under my breath.

I ran despite my muscles’ protests, heading towards the door at the end of the hall. The doors to my side began to shake as I ran past them, wood chippings flying out in all directions. I did my best to shield my face with my arms, but this reduced my visibility and led to me tripping over a gurney that was left haphazardly in the hall. I toppled over it, knocking the wind out of my lungs as I did so, and landed on top of a corpse—on my corpse. I scrambled to my feet, holding my right side, and ran the rest of the way to the door. I tried to open it, but the knob just jiggled in place. I could hear her getting closer, the dull thuds reverberating off the walls. I began to ram it, praying that it would open. I nearly fell over when it finally gave way and found myself in yet another stairwell. Once more, I took the stairs two at a time until I reached the top. I could see light pouring in from underneath the door.

It opened with ease, and I found myself back in the corridor of 500 Hall. I half ran, half limped my way to the med room and locked myself inside. No sooner had the lock clicked into place than the woman appeared on the other side of the door. Unlike the last time, she was incredibly aggressive, slamming her fists into it with such great force that dust fell from the ceiling. I slumped in the corner and kept my eyes glued to the clock, praying the door would hold. I just had to hold out for a little longer, just ten more seconds. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. As abruptly as it had started, the banging ceased; my bastion had held.

I pushed open the door and walked to my chair. I lifted up my scrub top to look at my rib cage, already seeing the early signs of bruising beginning to form. I put my top back down, rubbing my side tenderly. I noticed the dressing on my arm had come off, so I redressed it using supplies from the treatment cart. I looked at the clock and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was already five minutes until 5:00 am; did I really spend that much time in the basement? I grabbed the report sheet to see how much time I would have for the last set of rounds. My heart sank. Ten minutes. I would only have ten minutes to complete my rounds.
Not wanting to waste a single second, I rushed down the 500 Hall when the hands rested at 5:00 am. I checked Larry’s room first, wanting to get him out of the way, but to my horror, the room was empty. I closed the door and turned towards the 600 and saw several residents mingling in the common area. It wasn’t just Larry out of his room, but all of them.

“Oh no. No no no no no,” I moaned to myself.

I sprinted back to the nurse station, grabbing the report sheet as I did, and quickly began escorting the residents back to their rooms. Larry was sitting in a chair and refused to walk back, insisting I get his wheelchair from his room at 5:05 am. I ran back to his room, frantically searching for it before finding it folded in-between the wall to the bathroom and his closet; 5:06 am. I pushed it down the hall like a race car until I reached Larry, who just smiled as he slowly got up and sat in his wheelchair.

“My stomach’s upset, so take it slow,” he growled at me. The time was now 5:07 am.
By the time I got Larry back in his room and in bed, the clock in his room read 5:09 am. One room—I just had one room left to round on. I bolted from his room as Larry laughed maniacally at me, the door closing behind me doing nothing to stifle his gruff voice. By this time the lights were flickering; I was running out of time. I rounded the corner, nearly tripping over my feet as I did so; I was close, so very close, and then the lights went out, plunging me in darkness.

The lights flickered back on, and I found myself in a nightmare. The facility had become darker, sinister, the very air thick with dread. The once clean white walls with patterned wallpaper were now rotten, covered with mold and dried blood. The wallpaper peeled, and parts of the drywall had fallen away, revealing rusted metal behind it that also was splattered with blotches of dried blood. The tiled floor was replaced with metal grating with only darkness below it. The overhead lights were stained yellow, some completely obscured with rotting insulation and exposed wires. Strange symbols drawn in blood adorned some of the lights. Countless doors stretched before me: the infinite hallway.

I took a few steps backwards into the common area, my mind racing with panic, when I heard a scraping sound coming from my right. Turning my head, I saw the dark-haired woman walking down the hall. The nails of her left hand dug through what little drywall remained, emitting a horrible screeching sound as they scraped across the metal. From the groves left behind pulsed tendrils of darkness, the veiny appearance making the wall seem alive. In her right hand she held Brad’s mutilated corpse, his viscera dragging behind and leaving a trail of fresh blood extending from her to an open elevator.

Remembering the rule, I turned back to the infinite hallway, scanning the endless horizon for a green flag. I couldn’t believe it. Although it was a good quarter of a mile down the hall, there was one room with a green flag sticking out. I ran faster than I ever had in my life, ignoring the stitch building in my side, focused on the small beacon of hope. As I ran down the hall, I heard the clanking of metal from beneath my feet. Looking down, I saw an endless expanse of bodies wrapped in bloody tarps dangling from chains clasped to the floor.

Name badges of previous employees were clipped to the tops of the tarps. The way the bodies would sway as I passed over them was deeply unsettling, almost rhythmic.

As I approached the door, I saw a piece of the grating removed and placed on top of the floor. Next to hit was a tarp folded into a square with a pile of chains placed on top. Resting at the top of the pile was Brad’s name badge. After knocking seven times and announcing my presence per the rules, I turned the knob of the door, praising whatever gods were out there that it wasn’t locked. I rushed into the room, slamming it shut behind me and clicking the lock into place. There was only one overhead light working in the room, which flickered sporadically. Just like the rest of the building, the room was in poor shape. To my right was a rusty bed frame with the moldy remains of a mattress lying on top. To my left was the door to the bathroom, but it was boarded up. Next to it was a porcelain sink, yellowed and cracked, with a broken mirror just above it. In place of the windows was an industrial-sized oscillating fan, blades dancing slowly and caked with dried blood; an orange light spilled from behind it, although I could not see the source of the light.

I listened as the dragging sound grew louder until it finally stopped right outside the door. I heard soft thuds, picturing her wrapping Brad in the tarp as if he were some form of a twisted Christmas gift. The sound of chains soon followed, and then there was a loud clanging as the metal grating was fit into place. A fresh wave of sorrow washed over me thinking about Brad. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, anxious that the dark-haired woman would break the door down at any moment, but she never did. The lights flickered off, and once more I found myself in that oppressive darkness before they came back on. The light that bathed the room in white blinded me for a second, but after rubbing my eyes, I was relieved to find myself in a normal room.

I took a moment to regain my composure before unlocking the door and stepping into the hallway, making sure I flipped the flag to red after shutting the door. The nursing home was eerily quiet, the hallways once more immaculate and barren. I noticed that all the doors were closed. Out of curiosity, I jiggled a few of the knobs, but the doors would not open. Could they all be broken? I looked behind me at the fire doors leading to the other side of the building. Beyond them stretched a seemingly endless hallway that disappeared in a white haze; for a split second I thought I saw Brad standing there in the hall, but when I blinked there was nothing there.

As I meandered into the common area, I looked out one of the windows. It was early morning. Trees blew in a slight breeze, and the surroundings were covered in a thick fog, completely obscuring anything beyond twenty feet or so. The wind picked up for a moment, pushing back some of the fog. In the forest were hundreds, maybe thousands, of pale faces, all staring at me. Their eyes had the glaze of the dead, yet remained piercing all the same. As quick as the wind came, it subsided, once more hiding the hordes of the dead that stood there just out of sight.

I turned away from the window and walked to the nurses’ station. I took a report sheet from the folder and wrote down notes on Larry and Louise. Although there were no rules regarding me giving a report, this felt like the right thing to do. I looked at the clock to see it was 6:20 am; I had done it, I had survived the night. The small moment of reprieve was interrupted by the intercom; it was the night supervisor.

“Steven, please report to my office before you leave. Thank you.”

I reached into my pocket to retrieve the map Cheryl had given me, but it was gone. Just as I was wondering how I would find her office, a door creaked open across from the nurses’ station. Where the operating room had once stood were two ornate wooden doors with a plaque above them that simply read “Night Supervisor.” I wanted to run, to get the hell out of here, but I couldn’t: rule number thirteen. Steeling my nerves, I stood up and made my way to her office. I paused at the doors, knocking on the one that was slightly ajar.

“Come in.” Her voice had a certain coldness to it.

I opened the door and walked in. A large red velvet rug covered nearly the entirety of the stained dark wooden floor. A large and ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling, glistening in the morning light that flooded in from the courtyard. The back wall was lined with bookshelves full of ancient-looking tomes, all of which were without a speck of dust. She sat behind an antique of a desk in a large wooden Gothic chair, complete with velvet of deep crimson. A sleek computer sat in the middle of her desk, the pale light from the screen illuminating her flawless face. On either side stood two lit candelabras, the flames dancing on the air currents. In front of her desk were two plain wooden chairs, no doubt to add emphasis that this was her domain and that she was in charge.

Unlike in my dream, she did not wear a nursing uniform. Instead, she wore a sleek, black and gray striped suit that conformed perfectly to her curves. The suite was immaculate, with not a single speck of dirt or wrinkle on its surface. She was both stunning and terrifying at the same time. She smiled curtly, but the brevity did nothing to hide the immense danger that radiated from her.

“Kindly close the door and then take a seat.”

I did as she said and took the seat to the left, my body tense from the numerous alarm bells warning me of the precarious situation I now found myself in. She smiled at me in the same manner that she did in my dream. Why was I remembering that now?

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you,” she cooed as she reached under her desk and extracted a glass chalice.

Much like many things in the room, it was ornate with strange designs and gold leafing.

Resting at the bottom of the chalice was a small amount of some strange liquid. It was silvery-white in appearance, somewhat resembling mercury. From it rose tendrils of white fog like that of dry ice. Still smiling, she twirled the chalice between her fingers before raising it to her lips and swallowed the liquid in one gulp, licking her lips afterwards. She set the cup down before returning her gaze to me.

“What an exquisite flavor that was; a shame there wasn’t more.”

“You asked to see me, ma’am?”

“Punctual and straight to the point, I see, both qualities I like in my staff. Yes, I wanted to discuss your performance last night. It was nothing short of exemplary.”

“But I broke so many rules.”

“True, you did, but you survived, did you not?” She reached under her desk again, this time producing a paper, and slid it across the table to me. “I was impressed with your quick thinking and problem-solving skills, in addition to your… resilience.”

I looked down at the paper that now sat below me; it was a contract. The voices of Brad and Cheryl both rang in my ears, urging me not to accept the contract. I slid it back to the supervisor, whose smile drooped into a frown.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t wish to sign a contract with this company.”

“That’s too bad,” she said, her smile returning, “but before you commit to that decision, why not give it a look over? I insist,” she said the last part forcibly, extending it to me once more.
Fearful of what she would do to me if I didn’t humor her request, I picked up the paper, eyes widening.

As if she could see my face, she said, “That’s right. If you agree to work this shift for the next two weeks, I’ll pay you $125 an hour.” She stood up, walking gracefully to where I sat, moving behind me. She leaned over my chair, her lips near my ear, and whispered, “And if you continue to exceed my expectations, why, there’d be no reason not to promote you to a more long-term role. I daresay, you could be making thousands of dollars a night if you play your cards right. Wouldn’t that be nice, Steven? You could get a new car, pay off a house, or perhaps court Sarah. Wouldn’t you like that?”

I just stared at the paper held in my hands, afraid to answer.

“I can make those things happen, and so much more,” she continued, completely disregarding my silence. “All you have to do is sign on that dotted line and continue to exceed my expectations.”

She straightened up, walking back around the desk with her hands behind her back, stopping once she reached the window. The clopping of her heels didn’t sound natural, more like hooves upon cobblestone. She turned to face me, twirling the curtain between her fingers with an outstretched hand. Was she trying to seduce me?

“What are you? A demon?” I asked.

She chuckled. “I’ve been called many a name over the centuries. Demon, devil, witch—I could go on and on. What you humans choose to call me means nothing to me. For you see, these woods are mine, and while many a traveler has met their untimely end here, your fate needn’t mirror theirs,” she said as she walked back toward the desk and sat down in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, twirling circles with her shoe. “If you can prove yourself capable of following my rules, you can have wealth and power. So what do you say?”

“You said I performed well, but that was only because I had help.”

“Ah yes, Cheryl, I daresay her performance tonight was less than stellar. I’ll have to cycle her through later.” She put her leg down and leaned forward, resting her chin on top of her hands. “Tell me, Steven, do you know why I am so interested in you? Hmm?”

“I don’t know,” I lied; something told me this had to do with Mary.

“Oh, I think you do,” she said, smiling once more. “You’re in my domain, Steven. Do you think I can’t tell a lie from the truth?”

“Mary,” I said, not wanting to press my luck.

“Yes, Mary, an irksome thorn in my side. I can’t say how happy I’d be if she were to disappear, but alas, just as I’m bound to this place, so is she,” she said, eyes narrowing and glinting with malicious intent. “That said, imagine my delight when a blood relative walked so willingly into my home.”

“You want to use me.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “You see, rules hold power. Sure, words spoken by a witch can be powerful on their own; after all, Mary was able to bind me with her words, was she not? But rules… oh, rules hold even greater sway over the innermost order of things than even her most powerful of spells could ever hope to. I must say, I am quite interested in you right now, Steven, quite interested indeed. So I’ll ask you again: what do you say to my proposition?”

I sat there speechless. Something was telling me not to turn her down. I looked down at the paper held in my hands and then back at her. She stared at me with malice, not caring to hide the hunger portrayed in her eyes.

“I… I don’t know,” was all I could think to say.

“That’s fine. Why don’t you take that home and sleep on it?” She said, leaning back in her chair, eyes staring coldly at me. “And to sweeten the pot, I’ll pay you $100 an hour if you return for tonight’s shift, no contract required; however, I will expect an answer come Monday morning on whether or not I can count on you being a more… permanent member of the team.”

“I will, ma’am. Will there be anything else?” I asked somewhat anxiously.

“No, that will be all. You may go,” she said, waving a hand as if she were dismissing a servant.

I stood up and returned my chair to where it was before I sat in it, being mindful to pick it up rather than drag it across the rug. I walked to the door and stepped into the hallway. As I began to turn to close it, I heard Brad’s voice call from within her office.

“Steven, please. Help me.”

“B- Brad?” I stammered as I heard the door slam shut with a loud bang behind me.

I turned around, but there was no office, no supervisor, and no Brad. In place of her office stood wall paneling and a door frame. Plastic hung over various parts of the building, and large crates full of building materials were spread throughout the facility. Light filtered in from the windows, the dust dancing on the rays. I walked down the empty hall, my footsteps reverberating off the tiled floor, albeit a bit muffled from the thick layer of dust that blanketed the floor. I paused at a window, looking outside to see a normal morning. No fog, no specters, just trees swaying in a gentle breeze. The door closed shut behind me, and I proceeded to climb down the stairs, my footsteps leaving behind lonely echoes in their wake.

I stepped out onto the first floor, a sense of calm rushing over me as my ears were filled with the mundane sounds of a nursing home. I walked into the parking lot, relishing the warmth of the sun that I now bathed in, taking in a deep breath. The air tasted so good, as if I were drowning but moments ago. Perhaps in a sense, I was. There was no evidence of the fog I had seen earlier, and thankfully, no gaggle of corpses either. I got into my car and started it, eager to put as much distance as I could between myself and New Haven. As I pulled onto the highway, I couldn’t help but notice something in my rearview mirror; it was Mary, standing by the New Haven sign, smiling and waving. I raised my right hand to wave back at her as an oncoming car drove past me. In the moment it took the car to overtake the sign, she was gone.

I didn’t realize just how tired I was when I arrived home; the remnants of adrenaline or the stress of the night kept me alert. I felt fatigue overwhelm me as I stepped out of the shower; my body had been in fight or flight mode for the majority of the night. I was surprised I could still move at all. I dressed my arm with supplies from my first aid kit before collapsing onto my bed. I found my consciousness slipping within minutes, drifting off into a peaceful sleep without the night supervisor or any dreams for that matter. It was late afternoon by the time I awoke. I grabbed my phone, noticing I had missed a call from Sarah. I clicked on the voicemail, smiling at the sound of her voice. Yeah, I think I would ask her out today.

“Hey Steven, it’s me. I didn’t have any luck finding a job and saw that New Haven was hiring. I know, I know, I said I’d never work there, but I saw that they were hiring for the weekend night shift. I’ve always been kind of a night owl myself, you know? And you wouldn’t believe what they’re offering! It’s insane! I was thinking that maybe we should apply together. It’d be nice to work with someone familiar. Let me know what you think, ‘kay? Bye!”

Credit: Shawn Badolian

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