The corridor was a tomb, still and suffocating. Only the distant echoes of screams and the metallic scent of blood hinted at the chaos that had unfolded. Above them, a vent loomed—a narrow passageway, a potential escape.
Ephraein, eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination, hoisted himself into the vent first. His movements were frantic, driven by a primal urge to survive. Officer Toff followed, carefully maneuvering while supporting Pierro's unconscious form. Nurse Sydney was next, her hands trembling as she reached for the cold metal edges.
Behind them, the door creaked. A soft knock echoed, followed by a voice—calm, almost melodic.
"May I come in?" Minnie inquired.
Without waiting for a response, the door burst open. Nurse Violet, heart pounding, raised her weapon and fired. The shot rang out, but Minnie remained unfazed, her twisted smile widening.
Sydney's hand reached out from the vent, desperate for assistance. Violet, acting on instinct, leaped onto a chair and grasped Sydney's hand, pulling with all her might.
Minnie lunged, stabbing Violet's foot. Pain shot through her, but she held on. Violet screamed, but her grip tightened.
Pierro once said I was brave. That was before the darkness, before the things behind the walls. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe I'm just stubborn.
With a final pull, Sydney was yanked into the vent, but not before her head struck the bed's metal frame. Blood blurred her vision, the world spinning. Minnie seized her hair, slamming her head against the wall. Sydney wailed, the sound echoing through the vent.
Summoning her remaining strength, Sydney kicked back, breaking free. She grabbed a metal rod and struck Minnie repeatedly. Minnie, undeterred, caught the rod and bent it effortlessly. Her confidence was unnerving. She grasped Sydney's neck, dragging her toward the shattered window. A shard of glass pierced Sydney's side, eliciting a scream.
Suddenly, Sasha appeared, grabbing Minnie's head and pulling her back. Minnie released Sydney, who collapsed. Together, Sasha and Sydney fled, the hallway a corridor of carnage. Blood smeared the walls, bodies lay strewn about. Sasha's mind flashed back to the Massacre Incident of 1985—a haunting déjà vu.
A door creaked open. A patient, Gilbert, beckoned them inside.
The room was cloaked in a heavy silence, the kind that presses against the eardrums and makes every breath feel intrusive. The dim light flickered overhead, casting elongated shadows that danced on the blood-smeared walls. Gilbert sat on the edge of the hospital bed, his hands trembling as he tried to steady his thoughts.
Josh lay beside him, unconscious, his face pale and bandaged. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only indication that life still pulsed within him.
Gilbert's eyes were distant, staring at a point beyond the room, beyond the hospital. He took a shaky breath, breaking the silence.
"It was supposed to be a simple drive," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Josh and I were heading back from the countryside, taking the scenic route through the woods. The road was empty, the night calm. We were laughing, talking about nothing and everything."
He paused, his gaze dropping to his hands.
"Then, out of nowhere, this... shadow appeared on the road. It wasn't an animal, it wasn't human. It was like a smear of darkness, moving against the wind. Josh swerved to avoid it, but the car lost control. We hit a tree. The impact... it was like being torn apart."
He shuddered. "I blacked out. When I came to, Josh was unconscious, and the car was a wreck. But that wasn't the worst part. The shadow... it was still there, watching us. It didn't have eyes, but I could feel its gaze, cold and invasive."
Gilbert swore he saw a boy standing there—a pale child, no eyes, just a grin. Then the tree shattered their world.
"That's when I first heard the whispers. They weren't in any language I knew, but I understood them. They spoke of pain, of fear, of feeding. I dragged Josh out of the car, and we stumbled through the woods until we found the hospital."
Gilbert looked up, his eyes meeting Sasha's.
"But the hospital... it's not a refuge. It's a trap. The walls breathe, the shadows move. The Ink is here, seeping through the cracks, infecting everything. Minnie roams the halls, her twisted form a mockery of humanity. And Lukas... he whispers from the corners, from the mirrors, from inside our minds."
Sydney's voice trembled. "We've seen them too. They're not just entities; they're manifestations of something deeper, something ancient."
Gilbert nodded. "They feed on trauma, on fear. The car crash, the hospital, it's all connected. We're caught in their web."
A sudden noise interrupted them—a soft, wet slapping sound, like footsteps in a puddle. The door creaked open, revealing a dark hallway beyond.
"We need to move," Sasha whispered. "Staying here is not safe."
Gilbert stood, legs unsteady. "There's a maintenance tunnel in the basement. It might lead us out."
They gathered their strength, supporting each other as they ventured into the unknown, the whispers of the entities echoing in their minds, a constant reminder of the horrors that awaited.
The hallway was a void of darkness, the overhead lights extinguished, leaving only oppressive blackness that seemed to consume all. Gilbert, clutching a flickering flashlight, led the group, arms straining under the weight of the unconscious Josh. Sasha and Sydney followed closely, their footsteps muffled against the cold, sterile tiles. The hospital was in lockdown, its exits sealed, trapping them within its haunted confines.
Descending into the basement, they were met with a labyrinth of corridors. The walls, once pristine, were now marred with peeling paint and dark stains. Gilbert slowed.
"This doesn't make sense," Sasha whispered. "You said you knew the way."
Gilbert hesitated. "I thought I did. Everything's changed."
A soft, deliberate footstep echoed behind them. They turned in unison, the flashlight beam revealing only shadows.
Then, without warning, Minnie emerged. Her form was grotesque, a twisted parody of humanity. With a force that defied logic, she launched them against the walls. Pain radiated through them.
"Sydney," Minnie hissed. "You sacrificed your friend to Michael. You let her disappear into the void."
Sydney's eyes welled with tears. "I didn't mean to. I thought it was the only way."
Minnie turned to Gilbert. "You and Josh stole from the shop. The Ink saw your greed and punished you."
Gilbert's face paled. "I'm sorry."
Finally, Minnie faced Sasha. "Survivor of the Massacre Incident. You ignored the warnings, pursued forbidden love, led your friends to their deaths. Including Sam McLaurel."
Sasha collapsed. "I didn't know. I was blinded by love."
Minnie raised her arms—and illusions appeared.
Sasha saw Sam's ghost screaming for help. Gilbert saw Josh burning. Sydney saw her friend's final moment on loop.
The basement walls pulsed. The Ink was near.
Suddenly, black fluid dripped from the ceiling. The air thickened. Voices hissed.
"You left me," Lukas whispered. "In the dark. In the cold."
A faint glimmer of light appeared ahead.
"Move!" Sasha shouted.
They pushed forward, the corridor alive with screams. The light grew. Hope shimmered, fragile.
Their journey was far from over. But together, they would face the horrors ahead.
The hospital's corridors, once sterile and silent, now pulsed with an oppressive darkness. Lights flickered sporadically, casting elongated shadows that danced menacingly along the walls. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic, blood, and something far more sinister.
In a moment of unforeseen chaos, Minnie, the twisted embodiment of torment, released her grip on the group. Whether by accident or some deeper, unfathomable intent, the bindings of terror loosened. Without hesitation, the group seized the opportunity, their footsteps echoing as they fled. Yet, the walls themselves seemed alive, oozing with The Ink, reaching out with tendrils that sought to reclaim them.
Elsewhere, Ephraein and Officer Toff crashed into the administrator's office. The room was a tableau of horror: the administrator's lifeless body sprawled on the floor, his head severed and missing. In the dim corner, Lukas stood, his gaze fixed intently on Ephraein.
"Why won't you come with me?" Lukas's voice was a haunting whisper, laced with sorrow and accusation.
Ephraein's voice cracked as he shouted back, "You're not real! You're a manifestation of this nightmare!"
Toff, urgency in his movements, placed the unconscious Pierro onto the couch. Grabbing Ephraein, he urged, "We have to go, now!" But Ephraein resisted, his eyes locked onto Pierro.
"We can't leave him!" Ephraein cried, tears streaming down his face.
Toff's grip tightened, desperation evident. "If we stay, we die. Pierro would want us to survive." With a final, wrenching pull, he dragged Ephraein from the room, leaving Pierro behind.
Their path led them to the hospital's main entrance, only to find it sealed shut, the mechanisms jammed by an unseen force. A nearby door creaked open, revealing a staircase descending into darkness. With no other options, they ventured down, the air growing colder with each step.
Ephraein's sobs echoed in the confined space, his pleas to return for Pierro unanswered. The basement was a maze, its corridors twisting and turning, leading them deeper into the abyss.
In the distance, they spotted familiar figures: Sasha, Sydney, Gilbert, and Josh, seemingly fleeing from an unseen terror. Relief surged, and they quickened their pace to catch up. But as they drew near, the figures dissipated, revealing empty corridors. Hallucinations, cruel tricks of the mind, or perhaps the entities' manipulations.
The walls whispered secrets, revealing the group's darkest sins: Sydney's betrayal of her friend, sacrificed to Michael. Gilbert and Josh's greed, stealing from the shop, leading to their fateful crash orchestrated by The Ink. Sasha's past, the survivor of the Massacre Incident and the Gallagher Street Fall, her forbidden relationship causing the deaths of many, including her best friend, Carol.
The weight of guilt was suffocating, each revelation a dagger to the soul.
Minnie materialized once more, her form more grotesque than before, eyes gleaming with malevolence. She recounted each sin, her voice a chilling melody of condemnation. The group, paralyzed by fear and remorse, could only listen as their darkest secrets were laid bare.
But amidst the despair, a glimmer of resistance emerged. Sydney, summoning her remaining strength, stood defiantly. "We may be flawed, but we won't be your victims."
Minnie lunged, but the group scattered, navigating the labyrinthine basement, seeking escape from the embodiment of their guilt.