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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Flaky_Emotion_8084 on 2024-11-26 16:49:33+00:00.
Let me start this by saying Emily and I were not what you would consider friends. We met our freshman year of high school but besides traveling in the same social circles, we never really connected. After we graduated, she ended up at a university on the other side of the state and we all stopped hearing from her. We assumed she had moved on and so we did the same. That was until, to my surprise, a text lit up my phone screen a week ago.
All it said was, “Wanna go on an adventure?”
Now, Emily had the reputation that an adventure for her would be a Star Wars movie marathon with popcorn. While there is nothing wrong with that, it felt strange that she would be texting me of all people. At first, I thought she was probably going to some nerdy convention or concert and wanted me there so other guys would leave her alone. What I didn’t expect was what she told me next.
The text was straight to the point, “Urban exploring? Good spot by me. You in?”
Like most people, I’ve watched videos on social media of guys parkouring through old factories and flying drones through broken windows. In one of the few conversations Emily and I had together, I vaguely remember mentioning interest in it. But now I was a little hesitant. I only had one year left until graduation and so far I’ve steered clear of the Law. The last thing I needed was to start my new life off with a stain on my record.
Then again, this would be one of my last times to act like a kid. One of my last times to let free, without the weight of adulthood and responsibilities. So, after some back and forth, I gave in.
“Yeah sure, where we headed?”
Emily responded almost immediately.
“Lockjaw, MI.”
A quick Google search showed it was an old automotive town that now gave the Rust Belt its name. For a lack of better words, it was a shit hole in the middle of nowhere.
I only had classes Monday to Thursday, so once that Friday rolled around, I loaded up my beat-up old Honda Civic and made the nearly 4-hour drive north. I wish I could say I was at least a little hesitant about the whole idea. Sadly, I was too excited for a little taste of adventure and excitement to care what came next. Little did I know what I was signing up for.
Our meet-up location was an old, dingy motel that shared a parking lot with a WaffleHouse one county over from Lockjaw. Emily was already there, leaning against her car in all black, when I arrived at around 11 pm.
“Why, hello there stranger,” she said with a smile.
“Hey,” I said getting out of my car.
“You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be. What’s the plan?”
“Oh, you know, breaking, entering, that sort of deal.”
“Wait what?”
“I’m kidding,” she punched my shoulder, “place we’re going has been shut down for decades.”
“Had me a little concerned there for a second. Where are we going?”
“Somewhere cool. But first, you eat yet?” She asked.
We ended up in a booth at the WaffleHouse. Emily had a massive backpack that took up nearly half her bench. When she opened it to pull out a map, I saw she had several large books in there.
“So, see this?” She asked, laying the map out on the grease-pocked table.
It was a map of Lockjaw. It was an old map, probably from the 50s or 60s, but a map all the same. Her finger rested on an intersection on the outskirts of town.
“Yeah, what about it?” I asked.
“That’s where we’re going.”
“Why there?”
“It's an old hospital. During the day there’s like 3 or 4 squad cars patrolling, but at night there’s only 1.”
“I don’t know how I feel about going into an old hospital.”
“Oh come on. Do it for me? Please!” She begged.
I wasn’t sold. I should have threatened to go home if we didn’t change our location. There were plenty of abandoned auto factories that would have been great. But this is where I admit my foolishness. While there was no romantic history between Emily and me, I was still hoping for at least a little action over that weekend. In my childish mind, I rationalized the best way to make that happen was by keeping her impressed and happy. Boy, what a fool I was.
“Fine,” I relinquished, “But I set the rules.”
“Ok,” She chirped.
“I say when we leave and where we go and don’t go.”
She paused and considered my proposal before answering.
“That’s fine.”
We talked for a little longer over some pieces of crispy bacon. Emily insisted that we would have to wait until the early hours of the morning because that was when there were fewer cops. It made me antsy having to wait, but it was nice talking to Emily. She’d changed since I last saw her. Her blonde hair now had a streak of red and she took great joy in showing me the tattoo sleeve on her left arm. Seeing her point out each spider, goat head, and pentagram was weird, only to be reminded that she was still a nerd as she eagerly switched the topic to her archival work at her university.
Eventually, Emily deemed it time and we left the WaffleHouse at around 2:35 AM. It would take us about 30 minutes to get to the hospital and we would have until 6 AM to explore before more cops came back. I was anxious as soon as we hit the road, but Emily’s bubbly and excited personality put me at ease. Looking back, she grew more enthusiastic with every mile marker we passed. By the time we got to the intersection outside the hospital, I had caught her energetic bug, that was until the headlights slid across a sign at the entrance of the hospital and my stomach crashed.
MORRISON LOCKJAW MENTAL HOSPITAL
“What the hell, Emily? I thought you said this was a hospital, not some loony bin!” I hissed.
“Oh relax would you? It's the same thing,” She waved away my concerns.
“No seriously, Emily. I don’t think I can do this.”
“Oh come on. You scared some ghosts are gonna come get ya? It's just a building.”
I didn’t have any reason to be scared. But then again humans have a collective fear of the dark when in reality the world is the same in the dark as in the light. That’s how I justified it at least, crazy what you can make yourself believe when there’s sex on the line.
We pulled off onto the side of the road about a half mile past the sign. The hospital was surrounded by a forest with multiple overgrown walking trails which made it easy to sneak right past the one cop in the parking lot. Getting access to the building was equally as easy. Emily led me around the back to a shattered window on the first floor. She crawled in using an empty trashcan as a step stool while I just hopped through.
I was full of adrenaline by this point and the boy-like wonder of exploration was taking over. The hallways were a creepy mix of peeling pastels and littered floors. Several walls were covered in graffiti with the spray cans lying underneath their artwork. I tried a couple only to find they were empty.
There were several rooms where I peeked my head in through open doors and broken observation windows. Some were normal doctors' offices, with overturned desks and old beat-up couches. Others were more sinister; in the middle of one room sat a gurney covered in mysterious stains. In another, with a red pentagram graffitied on one of the walls, there was a list full of crossed-out names. At the top read Potential Suspects only for suspects to be scribbled over by the word sacrifices.
I was having fun exploring when Emily walked up to me and grabbed my hand.
“You know, I always thought you were pretty cute,” She whispered into my ear.
I pulled back stunned. She bounced her eyebrows and bit her lip. Slowly, she pulled her hand free and while keeping perfect eye contact disappeared into an adjacent hallway.
I like to think I am a very controlled person who doesn’t let emotions get the best of him. But I won’t lie, my heart was skipping a few beats. I was probably standing there for a solid minute before I regained control of my senses. A few more moments after that, I began pursuing her. The hallway ended in a flight of stairs, one going up and the other down. Naturally, I assumed she went up until after a few steps, I heard her calling from below.
“Down here silly,” she giggled.
I paused. So far I had enjoyed this adventure, however, I was not going down into that basement no matter what.
“Hey Emily, remember our rule,” I called out down into the darkness.
She didn’t respond.
“Hey. I’m not going down there.”
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud. I thought you’d be cool.”
“You agreed to the rules.”
“Rules never said anything about this,” She said.
The next thing I knew, her jacket flew from the darkness and came to rest at the foot of the stairs. The monkey part of my brain took over and I slowly began to work my way down into the basement. Alarm bells were ringing, there was just no one to hear them.
The stairs emptied into a long, dark, narrow corridor. The air felt icy cold and stale with distinct hints of antiseptics and vomit. At the end of the hall, I could see flickering lights coming from an open room. A trail of clothes led from the base of the stairs to the opening. A shoe, a sock, pants, a blouse. I crept down the hall, so distracted I didn’t even read the signs on each door. Archives. Morgue. Test Room 6. Suspect Holding Chamber.
I reached the the open door and paused outside, I don’t know what I was thinking but I quickly jumped into the room ready to scoop her up. She wasn’t there. The hospital room looked like any other. A gurney with restraints sat in the middle, against one wall sat a deep and wide metal sink, and adjacent was...
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