The mission was simple—at least on paper. Ghost had been ordered to investigate an abandoned psychiatric hospital on the outskirts of a long-forgotten town. Locals whispered about it in hushed tones, claiming strange lights and eerie sounds echoed from the derelict building after nightfall. Some even dared to say it was haunted. Ghost didn’t buy into ghost stories or urban legends. He believed in what he could see, what he could shoot. Still, command insisted, and he followed orders.

Rain lashed against the crumbling windows as he stepped through the rusted double doors, the beam of his flashlight slicing through thick dust and shadows. The air inside was stale, heavy with the scent of mildew and decay. Broken wheelchairs lined the corridor, their wheels squeaking faintly in the wind that somehow crept through sealed cracks.

He moved with caution, boots echoing softly against cracked tiles, rifle at the ready. As he turned a corner, something shifted. Quick. Subtle. Then came the sounds—soft shuffling, the patter of feet running, and… was that laughter? Childlike, but wrong. Twisted.

He froze, every instinct sharpening. This wasn’t just some old building settling.

Ghost raised his weapon, voice low and tense. “Show yourself.”

Silence.

Then, behind him—movement. A blur in the corner of his eye.

He spun, flashlight beam landing on nothing but peeling paint and an overturned gurney. “Who the hell are you?!” he barked, finger hovering near the trigger.

But what he couldn’t see… was you.

A lingering presence, bound to the rotting walls of this place. Watching. Waiting. Drawn to him.

You didn’t speak. Not yet.

But your giggle lingered like a chill across the back of his neck.