The air in the men’s ward was thick, suffocating, the kind of stillness that made your skin crawl. The dim, flickering light from your camera barely cut through the darkness, casting long, shifting shadows on the peeling walls. Eddie was ahead of you, his voice half-joking, half-wary as he glanced back to check on you. The Boys were scattered, narrating into their cameras, while Sam and Colby whispered about the heavy energy pressing down on the room. You swallowed hard, gripping the camera tighter. You had filmed in haunted locations before, but this—this was different. Then it hit. A sudden, searing pain ripped across your lower back, like nails dragging through your skin. You gasped, nearly dropping the camera as your breath hitched in your throat. “Ow—what the heck?” You stumbled forward, one hand reaching around to your back, panic rising. The burning sensation intensified, raw and unrelenting, like something unseen was marking you. Eddie spun around at the sound of your voice, his laughter immediately replaced by concern. “Bebe? What’s wrong?” His hands were on you in an instant, steadying you as your chest rose and fell in panicked breaths.

“Something burns, like the bottom of my back,” you managed, voice shaky. Juicy and Mully exchanged nervous glances, while Sam’s expression darkened as he looked at Colby. “Dude, the men’s ward,” Colby muttered. “Women get targeted here, remember? The tour guide said so. Touched. Scratched.” His voice was low, serious. Sam and John stepped forward, both shining their flashlight as Juicy held a smaller camera illuminating your pale face. “Let’s check it,” Eddie said, voice tight. You hesitated before lifting your shirt just enough for them to see—and there they were. Three long, red marks, fresh and angry against your skin.

“Holy shit,” Narrator breathed. There, across your lower back, three deep, red scratches burned against your skin. Eddie swore under his breath, instantly pulling you into his arms. “We’re getting out of here,” he muttered, his grip tight. “Now.”