Creepypasta [ON HOLD AGAIN]

Patient 88

Day One

My name is Dr. Michael Sist. As of today, I have been transferred to Greenhill asylum. My previous work at the mental health hospital was progressing well, and so I was promoted here. Dr. Jarod Chain has introduced me to the other workers and told me I start tomorrow with patient 80.

I had a rough night. Terrible nightmares about the asylum, maybe the pressure of moving and leaving Sarah, my wife, has caused them. Aside from that, however, the day had been pretty successful. Patient 84, A.K.A ‘Rick’, and I had a therapy session, him still in his cell, of course.

Rick is apparently a heroin addict with a history of theft, murder and abuse. He was transferred here after successfully murdering one of the guards and making a near escape. He spat at me a few times, and the language was cringe worthy, but I managed to settle him down by mid-session. He told me why he was in here, and then talked about how he wanted to see his dog Spike again.

There was one thing that troubled me, however. It wasn’t Rick, it was the eerie silence coming from cell 88. This had two additional locks, along with two dents in the door that looked like they had come from the inside of the cell. I asked Dr. Chain about this, and he seemed uneasy, looking around to see if anyone was watching. Eventually he said, “We don’t talk about patient 88, just do your job and stay away from the cell.”

Strange, very strange indeed. One of my major faults has always been curiosity, so I can’t stop thinking about cell 88, and what ‘It’ might be.

Day Three

Another nightmare, all I can recall is seeing the number 88, and hearing a blood-curdling sound, like computer crashing, or someone screaming. After I dealt with Rick the next day, I couldn’t help but go up to cell 88, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something inhuman in there, something not right. I was about to peer through the small window, when I paused. At that moment, the strangest sensation came over me. It was like I wanted to look, but I was too afraid to.

What’s in that cell that's so dangerous? I thought as I shook off the feeling and peered in. It looked like the patient was standing a meter at least away from the door. The patient had shoulder length dark red hair, and they were wearing a straitjacket, but had obviously gotten free, as their arms hung loosely by their sides, the buckled sleeves covering the patient’s hands. I checked to see if anyone was watching, then I said one word, one word that I would regret for the rest of my life.

I said, “Hello?”

The cell was sound proof, but whoever, or whatever, was in there had heard me. They flinched, and as they turned to face me, that ear piercing sound rang from their mouth and through my head like I was wearing earphones at full volume.

I hunched over and screamed with pain, clutching my ears. I managed to look up and I saw its face. It looked like a young female, her left eye covered with bangs of hair, her face was ghostly pale, and her lips were in some sort of a smirk. Her, if that’s even what it is, eyes were missing from their sockets, and dry blood was smudged under both of them.

The noise kept ringing inside of me as a nurse pulled me away from the cell and started to say things at me, but the noise had busted my ear drums and I was lying on the floor, now unconscious. The last thing I remember was her face...that sad, terrifying face...

Day Four

I woke up in the hospital. Dr. Chain was talking to a doctor, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I thought the noise must have deafened me. The doctor then saw I was awake and handed me a clip board. It read, ‘Due to yesterday’s accidental occurrence, your ear drums have burst, you are still able to hear, but only very faintly. You will be prescribed a series of medications for the pain and healing.’ I gave it back to him and nodded. About half an hour later, I left the doctor's room, where I was stopped by Dr. Chain.