Eye's In The Dark

The motel room was a suffocating prison, a cramped and dimly lit space that seemed to close in around me. The walls, stained with years of neglect, were too close, and the musty odor of old cigarettes and mildew filled the air. The single lamp on the nightstand cast a weak, flickering light that barely pushed back the darkness.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the previous night in my mind. The image of Lynn, disheveled and crazed, haunted me. The sharp, panicked eyes, the frenzied movements, the blood-soaked hands—it was a scene that felt like it belonged in a nightmare rather than reality. Sleep was elusive, the silence of the room punctuated only by the distant hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the building settling.

Just as I began to drift into a restless slumber, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. The sudden intrusion of sound jolted me awake. I grabbed the phone, squinting at the screen. 'Unknown Number' flashed ominously. My heart raced as I hesitated, torn between curiosity and dread. I had already been unsettled by the previous message—a text with only three words: "I found You."

I swallowed hard and opened the message. A video began to play, its grainy quality making the scene almost indecipherable. The video was recorded in the dead of night, shrouded in darkness. The camera moved erratically, as though the person holding it was struggling to keep their balance. The sound was muffled, and there was an unsettling quiet punctuated by distant rustling and the occasional snap of a twig.

The video revealed a dense forest, the underbrush thick and tangled. Lynn moved through the darkness, her silhouette barely discernible. Her face was partially obscured by the shadows, but her eyes—wide, frantic, and devoid of recognition—were unmistakable. The camera shifted suddenly, catching a glimpse of an old, dilapidated building in the distance. Its structure was barely visible, but the jagged outline of crumbling walls and boarded-up windows stood out against the night sky.

The video cut off abruptly, leaving me with a gnawing sense of dread. I replayed it several times, trying to gather any more information, but the darkness obscured most details. I was left with the image of Lynn's desperate eyes and the foreboding silhouette of the building. A feeling of impending doom settled over me.

As I tried to calm my racing thoughts, the sense of being watched intensified. The motel room seemed to shrink, the shadows around me lengthening and twisting. Every creak of the floorboards and rustle of the blinds was magnified in my heightened state of paranoia. I jumped at every noise, my nerves frayed.

I needed help. The gravity of the situation was too much for me to handle alone. I dialed Chris's number, my hands trembling as I held the phone to my ear. After a few rings, his groggy voice answered.

"Chris, it's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I've received another message. It's a video, and I think it's from Lynn. She's somewhere in the forest, and there's an old building… an asylum. We need to do something."

Chris's voice was filled with concern. "Are you sure it's Lynn? And an asylum? That's... that's fucking messed up, man."

"Yeah, I'm sure," I replied. "I need your help. I can't do this alone."

Chris agreed to meet me, and I added Rebecca to the call. She suggested we investigate the asylum. "If there's any chance Lynn is there, we need to find her. But we have to be careful. We don't know what we're dealing with."

We spent the rest of the day preparing for the investigation. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie twilight over the landscape, we set out for the asylum. My mind was a storm of fear and determination. The drive was tense, the air in the car thick with anxiety.

When we arrived at the asylum, the building loomed before us like a forgotten sentinel, its dark silhouette stark against the fading light. The once-grand structure had fallen into ruin, its walls cracked and peeling, the windows covered with wooden planks. The gate creaked on its rusted hinges, and the grounds were overgrown with weeds and brambles.

The interior of the asylum was a maze of decay. As we ventured inside, the air grew colder, and a sense of dread settled over us. The dim light of our flashlights revealed a world of ruin: broken furniture, overturned chairs, and remnants of the asylum's grim past. Every corner seemed to harbor shadows that danced and shifted in the flickering light.

We explored cautiously, our footsteps echoing in the silence. The walls were adorned with disturbing symbols and faded graffiti—messages of despair and madness scrawled in what looked like dried blood. The deeper we went, the more unsettling the atmosphere became. The temperature dropped, and a faint whispering filled the air, as though the walls themselves were murmuring secrets long forgotten.

It was in one of the more secluded rooms that we found evidence of the asylum's dark history. The room contained old medical equipment, rusted and coated in grime, and a large metal chair with leather straps attached. The sight was enough to turn my stomach. The room's walls were covered in disturbing drawings—eyes watching, cryptic symbols, and unsettling messages about fear and control.

Rebecca uncovered a set of documents detailing the asylum's experiments. The records spoke of subjects being subjected to intense psychological manipulation, their fears amplified and twisted. The goal was to break the subjects' wills and control their minds. It became horrifyingly clear that Lynn might be a victim of these experiments.

As we pieced together the clues, the oppressive atmosphere grew thicker. The whispers became louder, more insistent, and shadows seemed to writhe and twist around us. An overwhelming sense of dread clung to us, and it felt as though we were being watched by unseen eyes.

Then, Lynn appeared.

Her presence was like a shadow emerging from the abyss. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, her movements jerky and unnatural. She clutched a bloodstained shard of glass, her face contorted into a ghastly grin. Her entire demeanor was unsettling, driven by a force that seemed beyond her control.

"Lynn!" I shouted, trying to reach out to her. "You have to fight this! We're here to help you!"

But Lynn didn't seem to recognize me. She lunged at us, her eyes filled with a predatory intensity. The room erupted into chaos as we scrambled to avoid her attacks. I grabbed a metal pipe, trying to fend her off, but her strength was unnerving. It was clear that whatever was controlling her had made her more than human.

In a desperate bid to save Lynn and ourselves, we decided to perform a ritual. We gathered items from the asylum—symbols, remnants of the experiments—and began the ritual, hoping to break the malevolent influence over her.

As we chanted, Lynn's screams filled the room, her form writhing and distorting. The ritual seemed to be working, but then it suddenly went awry. Lynn vanished, leaving behind a chilling message scrawled in blood on the wall: "You cannot escape the darkness."

We were left in the asylum, shaken and uncertain. Had we freed Lynn, or had we only made things worse? As we prepared to leave, I received another message from the unknown number. It was a picture of Lynn, but she wasn't alone. A shadowy figure stood beside her, its presence menacing and inscrutable.

As we exited the asylum, the oppressive air seemed to follow us, a reminder that the darkness was not confined to those crumbling walls. We had just settled into the car, when I glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed something peculiar in the backseat—a crumpled piece of paper that hadn't been there before. My heart skipped a beat. I hesitated, then reached back and pulled it into view. Unfolding it, it revealed a chilling message scrawled in what looked disturbingly like blood: "You were so close. The real game begins now." My blood ran cold as I realized the paper had been hidden there the entire time, unnoticed.

I turned to Chris, who had been sitting in the backseat, my voice tight with fear. "Chris, was that piece of paper there before? Did you see it?"

Chris looked at me, confusion etched on his face. "No, man. I swear it wasn't there when we got in."

A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I turned my attention back to the rearview mirror, scanning the backseat. My phone buzzed suddenly, jolting me from my thoughts. With trembling hands, I opened the new message. It was a clear picture of our car, taken from inside the asylum, showing a dark, indistinct figure slouched in the backseat where I hadn't looked...