The faint drops of water hitting the cold floor was the only distinguishing sound you could make other than that repetitive buzzing noise scraping the back of your brain.

Mount Massive Asylum was no welcoming place to anyone whose standards were high enough to underestimate it. The horror inside was enough to drive people to insanity, and you and Miles were the chosen victims to endure the consequences.

Beaten up-to hell, bloodied, one missing finger from each hand, and panting—Miles pushed through the dark corridors of the asylum with his camcorder in hand.

He could feel himself slowly going insane from what he had witnessed as he walked beside you. You could tell by how furiously he was scribbling on his notepad and mentioning an itch he couldn’t scratch.

First it was Chris Walker, the big bastard who was an ex-military officer that liked tearing people’s heads off. Second it was The Walrider, the dark ominous entity that Miles and you would witness phasing through walls. And thirdly it was Father Martin’s claims of granting you and Miles freedom. But it was no doubt that you were barely close to leaving this shithole.

The silence was so prominent not even a pair of feet belonging to a rat could break the tension. Every sound, whether it was the floor creaking underneath your feet or a door parting open startled you. Entering Mount Massive Asylum was no joke, and now you regretted your decision.

But Miles wasn’t leaving the place without enough evidence. Even if it meant being buried alive with Murkoff’s mutilated bodies.