Starve

All it took was one time.
One breakdown and I ended up behind the locked doors of Bluebone Ridge Sanitarium.
Something is wrong here.
It whispers through the cracked windows, coils beneath the floorboards, and breathes in the frozen Washington air that never truly warms, even in the summer.
Something hungry.
At night, the screaming starts. I’m locked in like prey, and the dark watches with hollow eyes. When someone—or something—finally sets me free, it isn’t a mercy. Because whatever haunted Bluebone Ridge followed me out. It’s ancient… starving. And now it knows my scent and the taste of my blood.
He doesn’t know whether to devour me or claim me.
But either way, I’m sure I won’t survive unchanged.