The gaunt figure loomed over Arjun, its whispered words, "Your… life… force… it… strengthens… us…" chilling him to the very core. The cold touch of its breath on his face was a prelude to the horror he knew was coming. He could feel the pervasive chill emanating from it, a cold that seeped into his bones, and with it, a profound weariness. His consciousness flickered at the edges, a fragile flame in a terrifying storm.
He tried to scream again, to fight, but his body felt heavy, his limbs unresponsive. The pain in his arm, though still present, was now secondary to the overwhelming sensation of something draining from him, a vital warmth being siphoned away. It wasn't just physical; it felt like his very essence was being pulled, stretched thin, by an invisible, insatiable maw.
The creature's long, skeletal fingers reached out, not to touch him, but to hover inches above his chest. He could feel a strange vibration in the air, a subtle hum that resonated with the fading thrum of his own heartbeat. The whispers intensified, a chorus now, coming not just from the creature, but from the vague, transparent forms that seemed to swirl in the periphery of the green light.
"Drink… the fear…"
"Taste… the despair…"
"Feed… the ancient… hunger…"
The voices were like dry leaves rustling in a forgotten attic, ancient and brittle, yet carrying an immense power. Arjun understood, in a terrifying flash of clarity, what "awaken them" meant. This creature wasn't alone. It was a catalyst, a collector, drawing sustenance from fear and pain to awaken something even older, something that slumbered within the decaying walls of St. Agnes.
His vision began to tunnel. The sickly green light pulsed, dimming and brightening with each slow, agonizing beat of his heart. He felt a desperate urge to close his eyes, to escape the sight of the gaunt entity, to shut out the spectral forms that now seemed to press in on him from every direction, their forms becoming slightly more defined, their whispers growing louder.
He saw glimpses now: faces, not fully formed, but contorted in silent agony. They were the patients, the nameless, forgotten victims of St. Agnes, trapped in this horrific limbo, their suffering perpetually harvested. The black, viscous liquid dripping from the ceiling earlier… was it just water? Or something far more sinister, a manifestation of the hospital's dark past?
As his strength ebbed, a desperate, primal instinct flared within him. He had to resist. He had to fight. With a surge of adrenaline he didn't know he possessed, Arjun thrashed, a violent, desperate spasm of his body. He kicked out, catching something solid. A surprised, guttural gasp, unlike any human sound, echoed in the room.
The pressure on his chest lessened, and the gaunt creature took a step back, a flicker of something akin to surprise in its light-absorbing gaze. The whispers from the spectral forms faltered, their translucent figures wavering.
It was a momentary reprieve, a tiny crack in the impenetrable wall of his terror. But it was enough. Arjun used every ounce of his remaining strength, pushing himself up, gasping for air. His arm burned, and he could feel the cold, sticky wetness of blood on his skin. He couldn't see the exit, but he knew one thing: he had to get out of this room.
He scrambled backwards, away from the creature, his eyes desperately scanning the murky green light for anything, a door, a window, anything that wasn't a dead end. His hand brushed against something cold and smooth on the floor. It was his phone. A tiny, fragile spark of hope ignited within him.
He fumbled for the spare battery, his fingers still clumsy with fear. He heard the creature moving again, a slow, deliberate shuffle, closing the distance between them. The whispers from the surrounding specters resumed, growing in intensity, their collective hunger palpable.
As the gaunt form reached for him once more, its skeletal hand extending, Arjun, with a desperate prayer, managed to snap the battery into place. The phone screen flickered to life, its weak glow a beacon in the suffocating darkness.
The sudden burst of white light seemed to momentarily stun the creature. It recoiled, a low, rasping sound escaping its throat. The spectral forms shrieked, a chorus of faint, tormented cries, and recoiled into the shadows, their forms dissolving like smoke.
It was his chance.
Arjun didn't waste a second. He clutched the phone, its light cutting a shaky path before him, and scrambled to his feet. He didn't know where he was going, or what other horrors awaited him, but he knew he couldn't stay in that room for another second. He bolted, the sounds of unseen things stirring in the shadows of St. Agnes hot on his heels.
Do you think Arjun will find a way out of St. Agnes, or is he simply delaying the inevitable?