* Inhales than screams * Story

My story for those who wanted to read it :3: Part 1 I only went because of a dare. Hollowgate Asylum had been closed for decades—shuttered after a fire in 1972 that supposedly killed dozens of patients. They say the staff locked them in their rooms and left them to burn. That wasn’t true, of course. I’d read the articles. No one knew what happened, not really. But local legend loved to fill in the blanks. “Stay till midnight,” Eli had said, shoving the flashlight into my hands. “Fifth floor. If you chicken out, we’ll know.” I should’ve chickened out. The building groaned with age as I stepped through the rusted doors. The air was thick, like the walls had been holding their breath for fifty years and only just exhaled. Graffiti covered what was left of the front desk. Names. Dates. Symbols. One in red paint just read: “They never left.” The first four floors were exactly what you’d expect—rot, mold, dust, and decay. But it was quiet. Too quiet. Even the rats didn’t make a sound. The fifth floor was different. The moment I stepped off the stairwell, the air changed. Colder. Heavier. Like it knew I’d arrived. There were wheelchairs in the hallway. Not lined up neatly, but facing random directions, like they'd been moved. Recently. The flashlight flickered. Once. Then held. “Midnight,” I whispered, checking my phone. 11:42. Eighteen minutes. I could survive that. I picked a room—Room 509—and sat on the floor against the wall. The room was empty except for an overturned bedframe and a cracked mirror. I watched the time tick down. 11:47. 11:50. 11:55. I should’ve left. It started with footsteps. Not mine. Down the hall. Slow. Deliberate. One step. Pause. Another step. Then the voice. A whisper, just outside the door. “You shouldn’t be here.” I froze. The flashlight dimmed again. I didn’t dare move. I didn’t breathe. “You saw them, didn’t you?” the voice rasped. My heart pounded so loud I was sure they could hear it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But the door creaked open— And no one was there. Just the hallway. Just the wheelchairs. Except… There were five now. There had only been three when I came in. Something behind me shifted. I turned. The mirror wasn’t cracked anymore. It was clean. Clear. And in it, behind my reflection, stood a man in a hospital gown with no eyes—just black, weeping holes—and a smile so wide it tore his face in two. The flashlight went out. Part two People don’t just disappear. That’s what I told the cops when Eli vanished two nights ago. That’s what I told his parents, even though I knew exactly where he’d gone. And that’s what I told myself as I stood in front of Hollowgate Asylum, the sky bruised and low with clouds, clutching the same flashlight he’d carried. There were only two things left behind: His phone. And a single photo, glitched and warped, showing what looked like a man behind a cracked mirror. He’d made it to the fifth floor. And now I had to. The air inside was thick and sour. Like mildew and something older. Something spoiled. I followed the path Eli probably took — up the rotted stairs, past the silent wheelchairs. Everything was wrong here. The building didn’t creak like normal. It breathed. By the time I reached the fifth floor, my hands were shaking. Room 509’s door was open. Inside, nothing. Just the mirror — smashed this time — and his phone, screen black and cold. But something was scratched into the floorboards now, ragged and deep: “ONE ALWAYS STAYS.” I backed out. That’s when I saw it: Room 510. The door opened a crack, just wide enough to see the edge of a bed. Something whispered from inside. “He’s still here.” My flashlight flickered. Died. I should’ve run. But I pushed the door open. Room 510 was… intact. Pristine. Walls freshly painted. Bed made. Everything spotless. And on the bed, facing away from me, sat a figure in a hospital gown. “Eli?” I whispered. He turned. It was his face — but not his eyes. Where his eyes should have been were two gaping holes, dripping something dark that hissed when it hit the floor. He smiled — wide, too wide. “You came,” he rasped. Behind me, the door slammed shut. The lights blinked once. Then all at once, the room wasn’t clean anymore — it was rotting. The walls peeled, the bed rusted. Eli was gone. But the whisper remained. “One always stays.” I ran to the door. Locked. Then the mirror on the far wall lit up — flickering, like a screen. It showed the hallway. The fifth floor. Me, trapped. But in the reflection, there were seven wheelchairs now. And someone was sitting in the newest one. Someone in my clothes. Part 3 His name was Mason. He wasn’t friends with Eli or the other boy—Drew, maybe? They ran in different circles. But Mason had heard the rumors like everyone else. Two kids. Same week. Gone. Last seen near Hollowgate. The cops had written it off as a runaway situation. “Teen drama,” they said. But Mason knew better. He’d seen the video. Not the one online. The video. It had come from a burner phone left in his locker. No number. Just one file, timestamped 12:01 AM. The screen was dark for the first few seconds—then it lit up. A hallway. Wheelchairs lined up. Then—screaming. One voice—then another. Then silence. He shouldn't have watched it. But he did. Over. And over. Until he memorized the exact second the hallway lights turned off... And something stepped into view. That’s what brought him here. Midnight. Flashlight in hand. And a growing feeling that something was waiting. Mason crossed the threshold of Hollowgate. The air smelled like mildew and bleach. Like something that had been scrubbed over and over, but still rotted beneath. He didn’t waste time. He knew where to go. Straight to the fifth floor. The stairwell was tight, shadows clinging to the corners. Graffiti covered the walls—most of it nonsense. But on the fourth floor landing, one phrase stopped him cold: “Third time’s the charm.” He reached the fifth floor. The hallway was empty, quiet. Too quiet. The wheelchairs were back. Four of them. One facing the wrong way. Room 509 was sealed shut with rusted chains. Room 510’s door hung open like a yawning mouth. Mason paused. Then he heard something from further down the hall. A soft, dragging sound. He turned. There was a boy standing at the far end of the corridor. Not Eli. Not Drew. Someone else. His eyes were missing. His smile was wide. But it wasn’t his mouth that moved. It was his shadow. The shadow twisted upward, long and thin, peeling off the ground like smoke—and it spoke. “You don’t belong here… but you will.” Then it pointed. To a door Mason hadn’t seen before. Room 511. It opened by itself. Inside: a mirror. Mason stepped forward. And the mirror showed all three of them. Standing behind him. Smiling. Part 4: I was at a sleepover with some of my friends. We were playing truth or dare. Or .. at least tried to be.. “Issac, you either go to that Hollow gate asylum or whatever it's called. Or! You give Micheal a kiss.” Mille said to me. “No thanks. I'd rather die than make out with him. Y'know I hate him!” I say yonking the black, bright flashlight out of her hand. “Well, I heard he was going into here as well so you may not have a choice!!! BYE!!” She yells leaving. “Wait Mille!” It was too late.. she was off. I don't really wanna go into this place with him. Ugh I'm so stupid!! I walk up to the front not ready to be greeted by Micheal, already there at the front. He notices me and turns. “What are you doing here?” He asked. “Probably the same as you. I was told I had too or I had to kiss the person I hated most. Which is ..you.” He scoffs and walks into the building. I ran in after him. “Hey! You- you can't just walk away like that!” “Yes I can. And I don't really want to talk, I just wanna get through this, without dying. Now, c'mon..” Micheal grabs my hand and starts walking real quick, pulling me around with him. He was moving a bit.. too quick.. “Are you scared?!” I ask, while smiling of course. “What- No! I just-” He sighs. “Fine. I am. I have a fear of hospitals and my friends used it to their advantage.” That's kinda sad… “Why are you scared? Did something happen to make you like this?” Micheal gives me a blood shot look. “It's none of your stupid business, okay!? Sorry… I don't want to talk about it- Did you hear that?” He stopped in his tracks almost leaving me to trip and fall. “No..?” “Shush!” It was thumping coming up from above. He lets go of my hand and races for the stairs. “Micheal!!” I scream, but he was already climbing.. I managed to catch up with him but something felt off. Micheal was just standing there, looking at a door with the number 512. Technically there's only supposed to be 11 rooms.. Not 12. “Micheal.. I don't think we should-” He shoved me back and opened the door. The room was spotless. Not like the others. It made me feel gross… Micheal ran in and picked something up from the bed. It looked like a photo. I follow in behind him and go near him. “Micheal… I don't think that-” He managed to cut his finger and then drop the picture. “Ouch …” He said. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.. sorry for rushing ahead like that.” “It's fine. Just let's go. I don't like this room.” I take his hand and we start to walk again. Micheal was acting.. unusual though. He always seemed to look down and kept coughing. He was also shaking every time. “ Are you sure you're oka-” “Issac what part of I'm fine do you not understand!?” He yells. “Sorry..” I murmur. Micheal blinked then coughed again, more violently than normal. “I'm.. sorry. I don't know why I snapped, but if I'm going to be honest, I think something is wrong and I just wanna go home.” His eyes looked as if tears were in them. Waiting to fall. I scoff. “You know what? Let's go. Screw the dares. I actually rather kiss you then be here.” He looks at me and blushes. “I don't think my friends would apprecia-” “Screw your stupid friends! They used your fear as an advantage. They're horrible already. Now are you gonna just stand there or are you coming with me. Actually- don't answer that cause you're coming with me!” I grab his hand and pull him back the way we came. His hands were FREAKING COLD! And yes, I would rather be kissing him than have him suffer here. I'd better get him out of here though. We arrived safely at the front. The doors were white on the inside, not brown like on the outside. Also the handles were missing. “Is it one of those stupid push doors?” I whisper. Micheal pulls me away. “Issac, I have to tell you something but you have to promise not to be mad..” “Of course. I won't be mad..” “I- I'm the reason we're stuck here and I'm the reason why you're hurt..” “Hurt..?” What was he talking about? He pointed down to my leg. It was bloody. Real. Bloody. That's what he was looking at the whole time. “Look, I probably just scratched myself. And if anythin-""No. Look. I'm not sure what's going to happen next, but I'm sure about one thing. And it's "I love you.” He pulls me into a kiss then runs away into the building. “Micheal!” He was gone again. “What the heck?!” His lips were cold — like the rest of him. Like this place. But the words? They burned. And then he was gone. “Micheal!” My voice echoed down the corridor. Nothing. Just air, dust, and whatever was coming next. I can't leave him here. He seems to be too scared. But, why run back in? I chase after him and run back to the room we were previously in. My flashlight flickered. There was Michael too. On the floor coughing up blood. I ran over to him. “Micheal, I think we really should go..” He was now gasping for air. “No.. I need to get through this.” “Why? Just because your friends said so doesn't mea-""It's not that, Issac. Something or someone is here, trying to hurt you. I don't want you to get hurt. I can't have that happen. Not here.” He gets up and pulls me up as well. His hands were still cold, but this time it felt really cold. “Micheal, you literally used to bully me! And NOW you care about me?!” “Issac, I've always loved you. I bullied you just to fit in and because my parents found out I liked you. I can't have you get hurt like me.” He pulls me closer, then kisses me again. This time I could actually process it. His hands were cold still but this feels right. I know he bullied me but.. something is just different. Micheal pulls away and lets go of me. He clears his throat like the kiss never happened. I can tell he was blushing as well. We moved quietly down the narrow hallway, the beam of my flashlight cutting through the thick darkness. Every creak of the old floorboards made my heart jump. Micheal stayed close, his cold hand still wrapped tightly around mine. I could see the strain on his face, but he pushed forward, eyes fixed on the faded lines of the map in my other hand. The corridor ended at a rusted metal door, one I hadn’t noticed before. The faded paint chipped away in places, and a small, almost unreadable plaque hung crookedly: “Restricted Access.” “Looks like we found our ‘secret room,’” I whispered. Micheal nodded but didn’t move to open it. His hand trembled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, bent keychain with a single key on it. I blinked. “Where’d you get that?” His jaw tightened. “Im not sure. I never told anyone, but someone I know probably used to work here—before things went wrong. I think this key opens this door.” It slid the key into the lock, and with a heavy groan, the door creaked open. A cold draft washed over us as we stepped inside. Our hands stayed together though. It was clear none of us were ready to let go. I. Wasn't really going to let him go just yet.. “Issac?” He said. “Yeah?” I replied, looking at him. He smirked. “My legs are tired. Can you carry me?” I snicker. “No, you're too heavy for me. I'm weak.” ,”What is that supposed to mean?!” He gives me one of those looks. “Oh look, it's a wall!” I say, pointing to the left corner. “You're such an idiot..” He says while laughing. “Oh yeah? Well I'm an idiot for you..” I smirk. Micheals face goes red and he nudges me. “You can't say that! A-a-and even-even if you were, which your- your not- it- UGH!” I grin at him being flustered. Honestly I'm into it. He looks cute. “You're cute when you're flustered.” I say. He shoots me a look. “What..?” He asked. Crap why'd I say that?! “I don't know why I just said that. I mean, you are cute, but I didn't mean it in a romantic way- I mean like…” He bursts out laughing. His laugh echoed down the hallway a little too long. Longer than it should’ve. It bounced off the peeling walls and came back… wrong. Like someone else was laughing too. Micheal’s smile faded. We both froze. Tap. Tap. Tap. Footsteps. But not ours. Micheal took a slow step backward, his hand tightening in mine. “Did you—did you hear that?” I nodded, throat too dry to speak. The hallway behind us was empty… but the air felt thick. Like it was holding its breath. He pulled me closer. “Issac, stay close.” I nod. He grabs the flashlight out of my hand and walks out of the room while shining the light down the narrow hallway. He started to cough up blood again. Like, a lot of it. “Micheal?” He doesn't answer or look at me but instead he falls to the ground. I dropped to my knees beside him, my heart pounding so loud I thought it might burst through my ribs. “Micheal! Stay with me!” My voice cracked as I grabbed his cold, trembling hand. His skin was ice against mine, and the blood staining the floor felt unreal—like a nightmare leaking into reality. He coughed again, harder this time, a wet rasp that rattled his chest. I could see the pain etched deep in his eyes, but he didn’t let go of my hand. “We... we have to get out of here,” I whispered, my fingers clutching him like a lifeline. Micheal shook his head slowly, struggling to speak. “Not yet... something’s still here. It... it’s not done.” A shiver ran down my spine. What was still here? What more did this place want from us? He tried to pull himself up, but his strength was gone. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, steadying him as best as I could. “Please, Micheal,” I said, voice barely above a whisper, “we don’t have to stay. We can leave. Together.” For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his lips quivered, and he managed a weak smile. “I’m... glad you’re here.” I help him up and he freezes for a second then backs away from me. “Micheal..?” I tried walking closer but he seems to back away each time. “I- I- I remember something. I remember someone.. they look .. exactly like you, and I think they- I think they hurt me.” He was looking anywhere but at me. “Micheal im not-” “I know you're not him you idiot!” He goes quiet. “I just.. I think the longer I'm here.. the worse my hallucinations and flashbacks get… It's like I forgot who he was whenever I'm with you. Like when we're having a… time together, and when something bad happens, the memories they- they..” He couldn't finish his sentence. I walk up to him and make him look at me. “Micheal, I'm not trying to hurt you. But we should definitely get out of here soon..” He nods and sits on the floor and pulls me down with him. His head then falls on my shoulder. “C’mon we gotta-” “No..” His arms wrap around my waist and he buries his head into my shoulder. “I want to stay here like this for a moment..”