My CreepyPasta Stories

Seeing, Really Seeing

Sometimes, you really can’t understand what someone is going through. You have to go through the same. Live through the same. Face the same disasters and torments they have.

I haven’t seen her in a while. It’s been almost 8 years. Of course, I would’ve visited her sooner, but I have a job, a life I have to keep up with. I couldn’t see her and risk all that I had worked for, all I held dear, fall apart. I knew what each visit brought. Another session of her thoughts, her inner turmoil, unleashed and spewing venom across every aspect of my being. I had enjoyed talking with her, yes, but that was in the beginning. When she was in control. When she was still sane. Another visit would make her even worse. Last time she was already unhinged from reality. From herself. Her nightmares had taken over. And every time I went to see her, those same monsters threatened to consume me as well.

Call it whatever you like, but I have to protect myself from her. Before it affects me even more.

Last time I understood why they locked her away from the others. Why she was no longer in touch with the world. God only knows what she’s become after 8 years.

I miss her, and I don’t want to leave her as she was, all alone, with no one to be with; no one to keep her grounded and help her push back all the demons that she said had invaded her mind. She deserves better, she needs a proper goodbye, at the very least.

So, instead of going to work, I make a right on Bradley Drive. I keep on going, down the long road, lined with the forest, and make my way up the hill, in the clearing, where Williams House stands. The Institution.

As I pull up to the front gates, I get a much better view of the building, and see that it is in serious need of maintenance. I get out of my car and head towards the entrance, taking note of the weeds and vines consuming Williams House. A painful creak of the rusting gates informs me that people are a rare visit to the institution nowadays. I glance at the front doors, and then I see the notice plastered across them.

DO NOT ENTER

By order of the State of Massachusetts, the Williams House and Institution for the Mentally Unstable has been shut down until further notice due to the architectural faults and other general hazards. Trespassers will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

September 28th, 1962

Building Inspector Arnold Lewis-Ramsay

Shut down.

That means she’s not here anymore.

And I never got to give her a proper farewell…

A minor setback for me, but I was nevertheless determined. I needed to see for myself that she was truly, and forever, gone.

I headed towards the East wing of the building, where, somewhere among the bricks that made up Williams House, was a door.

Having reached the East wing, I began feeling my way around the ivy-ridden wall for the old brass doorknob that was my gateway inside. After what felt like hours of searching, my hand grazed metal, and pulling back the ivy that crawled up the building, opened the door and stepped inside Williams House.

It was definitely abandoned. In need of a good dusting, roof repair, and some new wallpaper, as the current one was peeling. It reeked of old; the musky air threatened to choke me, consume me and trap me here for eternity. I was sure I was the only one to visit since the building inspector.

I headed up the flight of stairs, to the fifth floor, for one last look at where she had dwelt. Each step made a creak that echoed through the wing as I crept up the stairs, and the early morning sun slowly transformed to afternoon daylight, sending streaks of light through the crumbling building. As I reached the fifth floor, the conversations of long past started seeping into my mind, and before long, I was in front of her room, every word she had said to me flooding my brain…