Chapter 20 Clipping
Clipping
The corridors stretched ahead, each turn revealing more impossible architecture. Levi consulted his compass, watching the needle spin wildly before settling on readings that made no geographic sense. They’d been walking for twenty minutes, but the hospital’s layout defied all logic.
“We should have hit an exterior wall by now,” Levi muttered, studying the building schematics on his phone. “According to these plans, we’ve walked three times the building’s actual width.”
The wrongness of it made his skin crawl. He’d always been good with spatial reasoning—had to be, growing up in a cramped apartment where every inch mattered. But this place seemed designed to break those instincts, to make him doubt his own sense of direction and distance.
Asher maintained his careful distance, hands visible and movements deliberate. “Maybe the plans are wrong.”
“Or maybe we’re not in the same building anymore.” Levi stopped at an intersection, shining his flashlight down each branching path. The beams revealed identical corridors stretching into darkness, each one indistinguishable from the others.
That’s when he saw it—a directory mounted on the wall, its plastic surface cracked but still legible. Most of the text was standard medical-sounding departments: Radiology, Pharmacy, and Patient Records. But at the bottom, in smaller print, were listings that didn’t sound right.
“Central Operations - Sublevel 3,” he read aloud. “Patient Monitoring Systems. Behavioral Observation Suite.” His voice cracked on the last entry. “Containment Protocol Dashboard.”
Holy shit. The words hit him like puzzle pieces clicking into place. All those patient records they found, Dr. Faine’s research notes, the automatic systems built into every wall and door—it wasn’t about treating mental illness. It was about studying it. Controlling it.
Asher stepped closer, reading over his shoulder. “Containment protocol? What kind of hospital needs—”
“It’s n-not a hospital.” Levi’s grip tightened on the screwdriver until his knuckles went white. “It’s a prison. A place designed to trap people.”
We’re not investigators, he thought, panic rising in his chest. We’re the latest batch of test subjects.
“I don’t understand,” Asher said, genuine confusion in his voice. “A prison for who?”
“For people like us,” Levi said. “People who stumbled into something they were never meant to find.”
A grinding noise echoed from somewhere above—metal on metal, accompanied by a rhythmic thumping that seemed to come from the building’s automated systems. The sound was growing louder, more insistent.
“We need to keep moving,” Levi said, choosing the corridor marked “Central Operations” on the directory. “Maybe that control room has answers.”
They walked in tense silence, the screwdriver still clutched in Levi’s hand.
The corridor sloped downward at a subtle angle, leading them deeper into the building’s subterranean levels.
The walls were concrete rather than plaster, with exposed pipes and electrical conduits that hummed with unseen power.
“Levi,” Asher said. “About what I said in the closet—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.”
They reached a heavy metal door marked “Central Operations - Authorized Personnel Only.” The electronic lock showed a red light, but when Levi pushed the handle, it opened with a soft click.
The room beyond was circular, lined with monitors and control panels that looked decades more advanced than the hospital’s 1950s aesthetic.
Banks of screens showed feeds from throughout the building—corridors, rooms, and areas Levi didn’t recognize.
One monitor displayed what looked like a building schematic, but the layout was constantly shifting, walls sliding, and corridors rearranging themselves like a puzzle box.
“This is it,” Levi breathed, approaching the central console. “This is how they controlled the patients. The whole building is designed to move, to trap people wherever they want them.”
The scope of it was staggering. This wasn’t just a hospital with hidden rooms—it was some kind of elaborate death trap that pretended to be normal until it was too late.
He reached for the keyboard, but the floor beneath his feet groaned ominously. The metal grating they stood on shifted, and Levi heard something that made his heart stop—the sound of bolts shearing under stress.
Of course. Even here, in the control room, they were still trapped. Still being controlled. The building wouldn’t let them win that easily.
“The floor’s not stable,” Asher said, backing toward the door. “This whole section is—”
The grating gave way with a shriek of tortured metal. Levi had a fleeting moment to register the yawning darkness below before he plummeted into the shaft. His scream echoed off concrete walls as he fell.
Above him, Asher’s shout of “Levi!” was cut short by another section of floor collapsing. The sound of Asher’s body hitting the walls during his fall was wet, punctuated by the crack of breaking bones.
They hit the bottom of the shaft within seconds of each other, landing on a pile of twisted metal and broken concrete.
Levi’s left leg folded at an unnatural angle, the pain so intense it whited out his vision.
He could taste blood, feel it running down his face from where his skull had cracked against the ground.
Asher lay a few feet away, his breathing shallow and ragged. One arm was bent behind his back, clearly broken, and dark blood pooled beneath his head.
“L-Levi?” Asher’s voice was a whisper. “Are you—?”
“I’m here.” Levi tried to move, but agony shot through his spine. Something was wrong with his back, with his legs. He couldn’t feel his feet.
Can’t feel anything below my waist, he realized, a cold knot of fear cutting through the pain-induced haze. That’s... that’s really bad, isn’t it? He’d seen enough medical dramas to know what that meant, but his brain shied away from the implications.
The shaft stretched high above them, a narrow slice of light from the control room looking like a distant star. No way to climb. No way to call for help. Just the two of them, broken and bleeding, waiting for death to claim them.
“This is so st-stupid,” Levi gasped, laughing despite the pain. “All that psychological horror, all that elaborate torture, and we die because of construction safety.”
Asher made a sound that might have been laughter or a cough. “At least we’re together.”
“Shut up.” But Levi’s voice held no real anger. The pain was making him lightheaded, and he could feel consciousness slipping away. “This doesn’t change anything. You’re still—”
He heard grunts of pain, the sound of Asher struggling to move despite his broken body. Then suddenly, something warm and wet touched his cheek—Asher’s bloody hand, fingers trembling as they stroked along his jaw, trying to turn his face.
“N-no touching.”
Asher’s breathing was a horrible wheezing sound, each breath a struggle. But when Levi’s fading vision focused on his face, Asher was smiling—blood coating his teeth, running down his chin in dark rivulets.
“We’re dying anyway,” Asher wheezed. His fingers, slick with blood, traced along Levi’s lips with grotesque tenderness.
Levi tried to speak, tried to tell him to stop, but darkness was pulling him under. The last thing he felt was the invasive pressure of Asher’s fingers slipping between his lips.