CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I thought nothing could scare me..." Creepypasta

Episode Date: June 29, 2020

CHECK OUT THE AUTHOR'S BOOK-►US https://www.amazon.com/Lonely-Twin-Ot...►UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lonely-Twin-...CREEPYPASTA STORY►by joshuaandrew1985: ►https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...►https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Santiago Betancur: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/NY1JJSUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

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B'E I think of, wait, they're all moose if I're not on on think. Oh, that to seeer that morning off must, I'm all mooh as I'm on thinking. Oh, from the night

at a paleo tournoe, oh, I'm a moose if I're not on thinking. Have you it mollick to come? Give you self then a boost with BioCure Maxhot Liquid. Three opheppending plants, magnesium,

Izer, a energy booster to make then to can't get any more to come all. BioCure Max Shot Liquid. Foodings Supplement, forcryg by the apotheker. scare me. And then I went to Crow House. I was doing another stint in jail when I first heard about the house. My cellmate told me all about how he wanted to break into it as soon as he got out.

That might sound a little weird, but Tommy said he had his reasons and I didn't care enough to pry. In hindsight, I should have cared a lot more. At lights out, Tommy told me so many strange stories about Allman Crother and the house he had built by hand. But I only half listened as I focused more on getting to sleep. I used to make Tommy so mad by having a good night's sleep. He'd say something like, Man, that story about the moving shadows didn't scare you? Nope, it did not.

None of them did. Mainly because I knew they were just stories kids told to other kids. Nothing like that was going to be as scary as my father. first purse snatch or the jug deal I negotiated with the triads, or the dozen other times I faced a barrel of a gun. But that fearless attitude tripped me up so bad after I got out of jail myself. Tommy showed up one day with another dude who was roughly twice my size. Yet Tommy introduced me as the man with no fear. So, of course, I couldn't back down from what I thought was a heist of the Crow House.

Tommy wasn't leaving anything to chance. He sent me to City Hall. I was going to get the blueprints Crowther had to have submitted when he got his permit to build all those years ago. I zoned out while I drove. Must have, because I remember driving

and then I was there. The receptionist told me that the permits and building department was just two rights on the left. Down a hallway, she pointed out. Two rights than a left. I repeated it as a mantra and found the office I needed. Soon enough, I had the blueprints in hand.

I looked over them briefly, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. The crow house was built like a maze. I wasn't worried. I knew how to get around a maze. I just touched a right hand on the wall and eventually make it out. Boring and inefficient, but it'll work out in the end. Story of my life. So, I left repeating a new mantra, a right and then two left.

But after that second left, I found myself turning to a bookcase covered dead end. Confused, I went back and then to what I thought was the first left. After a while, I found myself back at the door to the permits and building department. I opened it for help, but a new hallway greeted me. It ended with a T intersection, but there was some red graffiti painted on the marble wall. It said, in my handwriting, Don't go left, it just loops around. Suddenly, I jolted awake.

I was laying on the ground in front of a T intersection with the same graffiti. Memories flooded my mind as I remembered getting back from City Hall, planning with Tommy, driving up to this cursed house and entering it. A day ago Sorry for the theatrics But I needed you to understand What this house does to people It's not just a confusing layout

It actively tries to mess with you I thought it was some gas leak Disorienting us at first But the things I've seen and felt And killed They couldn't all be figment of my imagination For a while We stayed focused

And even quickly found crowd author in the living room. It looked like he'd been dead for several months, just rotting in a chair in front of his television. We prodded his skeletal remains and their presence actually emboldened us to take our time exploring the nearby rooms. There wasn't much worth stealing. We knew that coming in, to only expect the money that Tommy was giving us. Regardless of what we found, he had already paid us $300 each and would pay us another $500. after the job. Apparently, four girls had gone missing

when Tommy had lived on this block. He was obsessed with proving that Crother was behind the disappearances. Obviously, I regret taking it, but it seemed like easy money at the time. We ended up leaving the blueprints in the living room because it seemed to be mistaken at every turn. The house seemed absolutely normal,

so we didn't mind splitting up. I know, I know. dumb move, but the sun was shining bright and we were three dudes convinced we were the scariest thing in that house. Tommy took the dude who called himself Thor and they headed down to the basement since that's where he was most likely to find the remains of a murder dungeon. I went straight to the upstairs and quickly searched the bedrooms but found nothing. The attic stairs came down easily enough but I found no windows up there which made the darkness stifling. It seemed to swallow the dim beam that came out of my flashlight. Because the light

couldn't reach the walls, I felt like I was wandering around an infinite void. To tell the truth, I like the feeling. It was otherworldly, and I felt like my imagination was inspired for the first time in a long time, but this must have given whatever influenced us an opening. I turned around, expecting to see a softly glowing square showing how I could get down. Instead, I saw nothing but darkness. I panicked for the first time then, running towards where I thought the door would be.

Instead, my body fell through the floor with a tremendous crash. My fall was broken by a bed below, which wasn't as lucky as it sounds since my ankles painfully smacked the wooden footboard. I laid, expecting the house to come alive with angry yells about what a moron I was. Instead, it remained silent outside.

After I confirmed, neither ankle was broken. I left the room and found myself in the upstairs hallway, still with the attic stairs pulled down, but it now seemed twice as long and accommodated twice the rooms. I went straight for the stairs, but walking down there just led me to another hallway full of rooms. I wandered around and opened doors, but only found more hallways behind them. Turning around showed a similar sight of more rooms where the stairs used to be.

At first, I thought my fall had messed me up more than I thought. But no matter how far I walked or how much I rested, nothing got better. I didn't understand it. I didn't need to. I just went into survival mode and forced myself to stay calm I touched the right-hand wall of the next hall I entered

and walked as fast as my sore ankles would handle I ignored the flickering light I didn't turn to see what was going on with the shadows in the corner of my eyes I wasn't going to be distracted from my goal of getting out of this place I called for help at regular intervals but never heard from the rest of my crew

Instead, I eventually found myself looping back around and out to the first hallway. That's the problem with the right-hand trick. It doesn't work if you started out with a disjointed wall. That's when I started tagging the environment with a spray paint I carried. We had intended on spraying murderer over the front door as we left, but all those plans were dead to me. I thought I made some progress. But this was a large maze, so I ended up eating the few snacks I carried and taking a nap.

That nap led to the crazy, realistic dreams I had. Since the graffiti warned against going left, I went right, a right and then two lefts. I had found myself repeating the mantra from my dream. With nothing left to lose, I followed it, and the second left led to a room. The kitchen. I ran over to the fridge. and opened it wide. Yeah, that wasn't my brightest move.

To be fair, I was starving. I wasn't thinking of how everything in there would be spoiled if the owner had been dead for half a year. Worse, there was way more meat than there should have been. Just plate after plate filled with rotting meat. I recoiled from the sight and smell of it all. But that's when I saw them. Two large pit bulls had walked into the kitchen

and were already starting to bear their teeth at the sight of me. I still wasn't scared. These were flesh and blood enemies, things I could hurt. I thought I take that any day over head games. I pulled out my revolver, but the sudden motion caused them to charge. In my haste to react, I fired wide, and then I had both of them on top of me. I fell to the ground and sacrificed my right arm, using it to shield my face while I pressed the revolver against the nearest one's ribcage and fired again and again. I saw the pantry door open and Tommy peaked out.

I screamed at him to help me, but he actually asked, Me? Are you talking to me? Even with one of my arms being torn to shreds, I could have strangled him. I put the revolver against the head of the dog that were still ripping and tearing the flesh and muscle from me. The pain was unimaginable. I fired once and the bullet entered just behind one eye and exited out the other, grazing my elbow. But it didn't stop eating me. I fired again and again.

Half its score was gone, but the jaws seemed to work just fine regardless. The next time I pulled the trigger, my gun just impotently clicked. I started hitting the dog with a handle when Tommy called out, still from the pantry. Are you done yet? Furious, I yelled back. It won't die, help me! Tommy opened the door, walked right up to me, bent down and asked,

what won't die? I stared at him, then looked back to the dog. It wasn't there. The other dog was no longer weighing me dead. down either. I stood up and examined my mostly uninjured arm. The bullet grace was the only damage. I started to explain to Tommy, but he shook his head and said, It's the houseman. It's been nothing but insanity since Thor and I entered the basement. Tommy started to tell me where Thor was, what was left of him. But I stopped him.

I told him that it didn't matter right now. We just needed to focus on getting out. He tried to tell me, No, you don't understand. We found the girls, man. We found them. As dispassionately as I could, I told him, No, don't tell me what happened, because it's only what you think happened.

When we get out of here, thought it could be alive, and it could turn out the girls were never here. Whatever you hear, see or smell, does not matter. I thought those dogs are real, and I wasted all my rounds. We're going to get through this by being smart and careful from here on out.

I didn't tell Tommy that I was only half sure that he himself was real. It wouldn't have helped anything. Either way, I was happy to have someone else around. We were just as lost, but the company helped. The kitchen door opened to a library with a long mirrored wall on the other side. I ignored it and instructed Tommy to do the same, even though when we had come in, I thought I saw her reflections doing every

everything we did, but with the wrong hand. I was steadfast in my desire to not let the house for me again. I knew the tropes. I'd seen hundreds of horror movies. Maybe this was just gas, maybe ghosts. But I'd figured that whatever was going on, we could only be hurt by ourselves, which meant that if I just kept my head down and stepped carefully, we'd make it out eventually. then we reached the dark room, seemingly randomly.

We just opened a closet door and I found that eerie black void again. Somehow I found this comforting since it was one of the first oddities I had noticed about the house. Maybe it would be one of the last. But we had to get through it either way. Tommy and I, such tough, strong ex-cons we were, started to hold hands. It was dark enough that I could never see all of Tommy at one time. I swept my flashlight over him several times in that dark room just to make sure it was his hand I was holding.

Then my light briefly illuminated movement behind Tommy. I didn't explain. I just pulled him along faster. But while I looked behind, something caught Tommy's eye from the front and he yelled at me to look out. I snapped my head forward and saw that our light was finally reaching a wall.

We had found the end of the attic. I was fully prepared to knock down a wall and drop two or three stories to the ground to get out of here, but Tommy pointed up. My light followed the direction his finger pointed, but it struggled with the darkness in the air. Still, I could make out that there was something hiding in the corner of the attic.

The upper corner, where the walls met the ceiling. something big. It started to walk down the wall. The details were hard to make out, but I counted eight legs. That's all I needed to know, and started attacking the wall with all my might. I slid the metal in between the wooden planks

and pulled them out slowly. Tommy tried to warn me that the spider was closer. I looked up and could see that it appeared to grow more, smaller legs, but it was only a little closer. Shaking my head, I just told Tommy to quit worrying and help me get out of here.

He asked me, Man, does anything scare you? I just grunted in reply, but really had felt like the house had thrown me a soft wall. I've never had a problem with spiders before. I get not liking something small crawling all over you,

but making it a giant spider removed any fears I might have had. And then the next strike against the wall produced a thick stream of sunlight. I tore into it greedily, right as the thing above fell down, right next to Tommy. I turned around to tell him not to worry that the spider wasn't real, but all the words left me. Standing behind us were four girls. They were all pretty, wearing white nightgowns and seemed to have their heads fused together at the scalp. They were permanently in a crab position with their backs towards the floor and only their feet touching the ground.

Their arms flopped around as they moved in sync towards Tommy. All four girls was sobbing. I didn't wait to see what else they could do. I was terrified. I launched myself with a small hole I had made and squeezed myself out of that house like I was the last bit of toothpaste from a tube. After I popped out, a spray of blood followed. Quartz of the stuff. I tumbled from the roof and my vision was disoriented

from the rapid changing direction of my head, the blood in my eyes and the bright light that seemed to blind me even when my eyes were closed. It didn't matter. I couldn't stop myself if I tried. I fell from roof to eaves to another lower floor and then again until it felt like I was falling down a flight of stairs until I hit the bottom and realised I had been falling down a flight of stairs.

I was still inside the house. My despair was short-lived since I also realised I was next to the living room. I crossed it to get to the front door. I only slowed to pause before Mr. Croather's corpse. I didn't know what he did. How much of this insanity was because of the house, him or whatever but I still wished I had bullets in my gun

because I would love to drill him in between the eyes that when his grey paper-thin eyelids opened and he stared at me with completely white eyes that scared me pretty good I grabbed the nearest thing to me and ended up breaking his left forearm and shoving the arm bones into his left eye

I pushed it in hard, trying to hit brain. Instead, there was a squeal of pain that sounded like it came from within the head, and green blood, for lack of a better word, squirted out from behind the ocular fluid. Whether or not that meant he would truly die, I left him still writhing in that chair. I needed to get out. It was almost welcoming to burst open the front door and see the sea of red and blue light, I found out later that my gunfire resulted in the neighbours calling 911. I didn't mind.

I needed the company. Even as they threw me to the ground and handcuffed me, I was happy. At least, and to look up paranoid about all this just being another hallucination of the house's design. Now, there's a lot that scares me. Spiders and things that look like spiders scare me. Going to sleep and waking up scares me Stairs scare me But I get to stay locked up where it's nice

And mostly safe for a long time They have no idea how I twisted Thor Into the pretzel they found And they never found Tommy's body So the death penalty is out Still it didn't look too good To have all of Tommy's blood covering me They keep me in solitary

Because I keep splitting my cellmate's heads open to check for little men that might have green blood, just in case. But at least my insanity defence looks to be strong. I'm hoping I can get transferred to a more comfortable hospital soon. In the meantime, I just have to be on the lookout for any logical inconsistencies. The house isn't going to trap me again so easily. If I'm still there, I need to find out as soon as possible to escape. Wait, it's not helpful to think like that.

I must remember, I'm safe. Of course I'm out. It's been weeks since I left the house. I think it's been that long anyway. It's really hard to keep track of time all alone in here. Oh, sorry, I'm not thinking clearly. I can just check the calendar on this laptop, but this laptop. How did I get a laptop in solitary confinement?

Wait, where am I? Where am I? Where am I? I actually cleaned up my act a lot. My memory's still fuzzy and how I got a hold of a contraband laptop, but the guards took it away as soon as I made all that fuss. Anyway, I got a great public defender who was able to save me from the merger charges and even the breaking and entering of the old Crow House.

He truthfully argued that we were in there because of a reasonable suspicion of a foul play, and we had rightfully searched the place for survivors after finding Mr. Crowther dead in the living room. It helped that none of the prosecutor's experts could agree as to how exactly Thor died, and they never found Tommy's body. I was still convicted of the assault after I had been imprisoned, but I took a plea deal and just got five years probation,

the majority of which I would spend at Oregon State Hospital. Of course, nice as my lawyer was, I never fully trusted him. I had made a sort of peace with the thought that I may have still been trapped in the crowhouse. Its illusions and specters looked, felt, and even smelled real. I can still remember the pain of feeling a dog ripping the flesh off of my arm. So it took a good year before I felt like I could relax. You can only be paranoid for so long. then you just get tired of all the fear.

I decided that if I was in a hallucination, I would just wait and see where it all went. And truthfully, I figured that if the house could create illusions this good, then I was a dead man no matter what I did. Either way, I managed to make life work at the hospital for long enough. Eventually, my memories of the house faded, so I could start to sleep naturally again. I made lots of progress with my therapist about issues that plagued me before the crowhouse,

and I eventually got a clean bill of health from the hospital. I got a job as a librarian of all things. I'm heavily tattered, but none on my neck or face, so I go to work in a long-sleeve sweater with white gloves. I've always considered myself an intelligent brute, but after a haircut and a shave, I actually looked like I belonged there. I didn't completely let the crowhouse slip from my mind though I used my position to study up on that location

and found some pretty interesting stuff police reports and newspaper articles revealed that the land the crowhouse was built on had been terrorising people long before Mr Crowther owned it probably the most interesting of which was an incident with the people who owned the land before Mr Crowther only the husband made it out of it out of which made it out of a house fire, that he freely admitted to setting himself.

He had a wild tale about moving across the country for his job, only to find his new office was a maze of cubicles that he couldn't get out of. According to him, half his new co-workers were out to kill him, while the others seemed just as scared and lost as him. He said he must have wondered those grey walls for days without ever finding an exit. Instead, he finally managed to find a lighter and set the nearest cubicle ablaze. Of course, he was only trying to get the firefighters to come and rescue, but it was only when the fire had spread too far to stop that he suddenly realized he was standing outside his own home.

The rest of his family had been asleep and unable to escape. Three days after his arrest, he had hung himself in jail. Just like I almost did. The fire cleared away. The fire cleared away for Mr. Crowther to buy the land and build the monstrosity of a house that I'd been trapped in. While they didn't have as much trouble as I did, it still took the police weeks before they officially cleared the house of the four bodies. Oh yeah, that's also why I managed to get off so light. Besides Thor and Mr. Crowther's body, they also came across the bodies of a couple in the basement.

They had both died of heart attacks and were found sitting in the corner, holding each other tight. The couple had died long before Mr. Crowther, and it helped paint him in a bad light, even though there wasn't enough evidence to definitely say what had happened to them. All this news made me feel simultaneously more and less sane. I clearly wasn't the problem going into the house, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was forever corrupted by it. even if I really did escape. You might be wondering why,

if I suspected I was still in the house, I would trust anything I was reading. Well, I'd never read anything like this before. I figured that when I was speaking to someone, if I was still in the house, then it was like speaking to the house. Same thing with reading. The information had to come from somewhere.

True, it could have been the house messing with me, but I thought it was more likely. that he would brag about itself. All of it got pushed to the side when I met Sandy. Every day, she would bring a kid in for my library's story time hour. I finally got the nerve

to just talk to her. Not only did I think she was the prettiest thing I had ever seen, but I was worried that she was the trap that the house was building to. I was lonely enough, though, that I just went for it.

Illusion or not, She was beautiful, and, as it turned out, very single. We started dating, and suddenly the world got a lot brighter. It felt more real, too. I got to know her son, Mason, and he actually seemed to like me. So, you know where this is all going. First, life got great. Then, Sandy and I married.

I won Oregon's Librarian of the Year. I found out Sandy was pregnant with a girl. My life was now perfect. Too perfect. I had never forgotten about the Crow House. It was always there in the back of my mind. When I got angry at Sandy and maybe took it a bit too far, she always forgave me.

Too easily. Mason was too good a kid. My work too easy for too much money. I tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of my stomach and it was easy at first I guess I really didn't want Sandy to be fictional but then a new book to me was returned to the library

a history of a tribe that is split from Murdoch Native Americans that used to live around here I started reading it to figure out which shelf it needed to be returned to just after the first page were two maps to where this tribe used to live One was what the land looked like at the time they occupied the area. The other was the same image, but with a current map overlaid on top of it. The second map clearly showed me the crowhouse right next to the tribe's main camp.

After seeing that, whether or not I was still in the house, I felt like this book was a message for me, so I kept reading. The tribe called themselves Dinega Mavre. Mclax, which roughly translated to the sunsetsing people. They were a sort of cult that had been ostracized from the larger tribe for their beliefs. Basically, they thought the world was going to end soon. However, their leader had once come upon a cave with long, twisting passages, and this man had an epiphany on how to save the world, at least temporarily.

He immediately started making sacrifices of the young women in the tribe and when the world didn't end his efforts were declared a huge success he didn't just kill the girls though they were drugged and then carried deep into the cave with plenty

of food and water when she awoke the girl would be free to try and find her own way back however the author of the book theorised that the whole maze was rigged maybe with a stone that covered the entrance nowhere could they find

any evidence that anyone survived this exceedingly slow execution. Plus, the tribe wouldn't have wanted a survivor. The whole point was to have the young woman to have hope, but ultimately fail, for her to constantly pray for the God's guidance and for these prayers to get increasingly more heartfelt and desperate as time went on.

Basically, they were trying to wring every last drop of devotion out to their sacrifices. and it worked, or at least appeared to. They figured the gods wouldn't want to destroy the world as long as it could still produce praise this pure. Either way, using the death maze got so popular that they eventually had to kidnap young women from other tribes and then used people of all ages and genders

to keep a steady flow of rigid prayers coming. This led to a war with the larger tribes and the Deneagamaclax were finally wiped out. Their conquerors feared the cave though. They thought it haunted with hundreds of lost souls that were still trying to find their way out. So they filled the entrance and stayed far away. At this point, it came as no surprise

that the location of the cave was exactly under the crowhouse. The book did have one last shock for me though. Immediately after finishing it, I looked at the author to see if I could maybe find them later. The book was written by William Crowther. There was no author photo, but it couldn't have been a coincidence. I practically threw the book away from me. The house was taunting me.

Somehow it had delivered the book to me. The easiest explanation was simply that I was still in the house. I tried to reject that idea once more. I left work immediately and drove home. Sandy was on the phone with my confused boss when I got there, but she was already telling him that I wasn't feeling well. I just went to our bedroom and flopped in the bed to try and think things through. Soon, Sandy joined me and asked what happened.

I had never talked to her about my stay in the mental hospital, or what happened at the Crow House. She had known about all my other stints in print. prison, but that's it. So, I finally told her. When it was over, Sandy looked scared, but she told me that she believed that I believed it happened. Then she said she had some good news. My boss told her that it was clear I was having some trouble at work today, so I should go ahead and take tomorrow off too, so we can get a three-day weekend. Sandy started to say how we should use that time to relax together, but I cut her off. I told her something along the lines of,

don't you see how wrong that is? Bosses don't give you time off if you leave work, they fire you. We argued for a bit more, but I felt silly arguing with the house, because that's who I had to really be talking to. The house was pretending to be my wife. I told her that I was onto her. She had trapped me before, but wasn't going to trick me anymore. The thing that called herself Sandy burst into tears. She told me that I was scary. She begged me to think of her unborn child, of Mason. I almost tore into her head then and there to see if there was anything alien about a biology.

But the house had Mason burst into our room while I was wrestling Sandy to the ground. In the end, I couldn't go through with it. Real or not, I don't want to see Sandy hurt. After getting up and all of us calming down, I promised I would get better. She gave me an ultimatum. Our child would be born in about a month, so she would stay with a mother during that time and I had to use every resource I had to get better by then.

Or else, I wouldn't be allowed to be a part of this family anymore or even see the baby. Like it's actually mine. I just went along with a plan to get some peace and quiet. I tried to think of a way I could escape, for real this time. I finally decided I would visit my father.

We have a complicated relationship. The house wouldn't be able to accurately portray my father given how repressed my own memories of him were. I showed up at his apartment with no warning. I knocked. He opened the door angrily, but just stood there in shock for a moment.

Then he started crying. He sobbed while telling me how sorry he was and how many regrets he had. This wasn't my father. My father couldn't go five minutes without hitting me. This was the house, just trying to show me what I wanted again. I pushed him.

He bowled his head. hand up into a fist and for a second I thought I saw the man who raised me again. Yet this imposter just dropped his fist and tried to pull me in for a hug. He kept apologising and asking for my forgiveness.

He tried to tell me that he had changed a lot over the last 20 years probably because the house knew it wasn't fooling me. It had come up with some excuse. I almost believed it. Almost.

Instead, I knocked my old man to the ground and pulled my hammer from my waistband. I cracked open his head and searched and searched for anything alien living inside. While I didn't find any, I wasn't sure how this worked. The only thing I was sure of was the bloody mess on the floor wasn't Dad. Not that it mattered to the police. After all, they were just the house too. So was the judge. That's why he was still lenient.

He'd just put me back in the hospital again, this time for life. This house is good at mind games. It's not revealing the charade until it thinks I've let my guard down again. For whatever reason, he decided to let me have a laptop again. In Universe, they told me

that communicating with others would help me with my delusions. Once again, I'm playing along, but only until Mike, the Ordly, stops paying attention. Recounting everything that's happened has just been to keep my hands realistically moving over the keyboard. I know there's no one really out there. It's really taking forever, but Mike can just keep watching me typing merrily along. Eventually, he'll take a break, and that's when I'll finally escape this house. I don't need long. Just five minutes.

or so, probably less than that, since I already used my spare sheets to make the noose last night. I'm escaping for real this time.