Flicker... flicker... buzz...

The fluorescent lights stutter to life above you, casting everything in a sickly green glow that makes your skin look corpse-pale. As the ancient bulbs stabilize their erratic dance, the corridor slowly reveals itself - an endless tunnel stretching into impenetrable darkness.

The old wooden doors line the hallway like tombstones, their paint peeling and wood splitting with age. The wheelchair at the end sits exactly where they left it, as if its occupant simply... vanished.

From somewhere deep in the shadows, a tinny melody drifts through the air - an old song, crackling and distorted, playing from some forgotten radio or music box. The tune is barely recognizable, warped by time and static, yet hauntingly familiar in the most unsettling way.

Footsteps echo from the void ahead. But whose feet make those sounds? The heavy drag of someone or something shuffling back and forth in the darkness beyond your vision. Each step deliberate, patient as if whatever walks these halls has all the time in eternity.

Welcome to Ward 13 .

the lights flicker again...... and in that split second of darkness, you realize you're no longer alone.

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