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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Jegg33 on 2026-05-24 23:18:39+00:00.

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I'm not really sure how to write this, as I'm new to this, so this is more so just going to be me detailing EVERYTHING about what I experienced.

My mother recently had a terrible fall, and she broke her hip. She told me, "Put me in the home while the insurance is paying; I'll get therapy and free meals.” So I did just that; I looked up a local nursing home in our area; it had 4.5 stars, and there were no straight 1-star reviews.

The highest review said something along the lines of "My grandmother stayed here, and she loved it!” The normal type of review I expected.

But the lowest review only said, "The staff is strange, but the place was well run.” And that interested me; there were a couple of other reviews saying the staff felt off, but I'd be a little weird too if I worked there too. With how understaffed nursing homes are and with the amount of stress they'd be taking on, I didn't give much thought to these reviews at the time.

I got the paperwork finished, then got my mom from the hospital once she was discharged and drove her down to the home. It was outside of a small town, down a long road, which I found strange; it was very far from any hospitals and VERY out of the way.

When my mother and I arrived, we were greeted by the head of the facility, who was a very nice older woman with dirty, faded blonde hair; we will call her “Alice.” We had some good banter about family history, my mom's accident, and other things.

Then we started talking about the home itself. First, the place was beautiful; every shrub was watered, the paint looked fresh, and not a single fluorescent light was out.

Apparently the place has only been open for about three years, closing due to low staff and other issues before reopening to wide success.

Everything seemed perfect; however, everything was empty. I heard people in their rooms, but I expected to see nurse aides, family members, and even some of the residents themselves out and about, but there was no one.

When I asked, Alice gave me this answer. “We had to do some downsizing; we have me, the owner; a couple workers at the cafeteria; a few trainers who come in to help with exercise; and then our nurse aide."

I was a bit confused because it sounded like there was only one nurse; before I could ask further, a man whose head had to duck under the double doors at the end of the hallway due to his height was merrily bringing himself down the hallway with the snack cart.

Alice told me his name, but it sounded like a fake name with how she hesitated, so I'll just call him Marty here as well.

Marty came over; I could tell his grin was wide even beneath the medical mask he was wearing. He had on scrubs and a scrub cap; his blond hair was poking out of it. His eyes were bloodshot, and his irises were faded in color; they looked like a very light green.

The first words he said were loud and happy, booming towards my mother: “Oh my goodness! You must be the new kid on the block! Could I get you a snack?”

He was great, very chatty, friendly, and a bit overly friendly, actually. He gave my mom a snack, and he helped her get settled. My mom had a roommate who was very quiet, turned away from us in the bed, and stared at the TV in the corner.

While Marty was getting my mom settled, I noticed how strangely he was moving. His arms were long, so he could reach things he needed halfway across the room. He was excellent at his job; I've never seen someone move so fast before.

I asked about him outside the room to Alice, and she told me, "He's the only nurse aide we have; he's expensive, but he's able to do it all himself, and no matter who else we try to hire to work with him, they always just leave the next day or don't show up again at all."

I thought that was impressive, but I also found it worrying. What if he were busy and couldn't help my mom if she needed something? Was having only one nurse even legal?

When I expressed that concern, Alice laughed like it was a silly idea and simply said, “Trust me, that's not possible.”

As she said that, I felt a huge, cold, and bony hand on my shoulder; looking over, Marty very politely said, "Your mother is a lovely woman," and "I'll be sure to take great care of her." I should mention, though, her roommate has Alzheimer's, so if she starts talking strangely, just try to play along, okay?”

I nodded; he was at least two to three feet taller than me, and with how his posture was so bent, it felt as if he were leaning right over me.

He then went on along; Alice said she had a meeting to attend to and that it was a pleasure to meet us, and we parted ways.

I spent some time with my mom after that, and while we were talking, her roommate turned over, turning up the volume of the TV louder.

Her face was tired, her voice was raspy, and her tone was desperate; she said, “Get out of here, it's not safe."

Remembering Marty's words, I simply asked, “Why is it not safe, ma’am?”

She responded with a cold stare, and very quickly she spouted, “Him, he's taken 12 of my roommates; if he hears me talking on that baby monitor, I'll be next." "You've got to get out of here: he's a demon."

At the time, I simply figured she was having a spell. I looked to where she pointed, and there was in fact a baby monitor. I figured it was so he could hear if something was going on in one of the many rooms he managed.

I laughed nervously and said, "Okay, ma’am, we will get out of here as soon as we can." My mom too played along to appease her roommate. Then we heard the cart coming back down the hallway; the lady turned down the TV and turned back over quickly.

Marty slinked his way into the room, ducking the doorframe. "Hey! Got your medication for this evening. Are we all behaving?”

I nodded yes, and my mom laughed. I had a meeting the next day myself, so I hugged my mom goodnight, and I went home to get some sleep.

Day two after work, at around six in the evening, I went back to see my mom.

She was eating dinner, and we hugged. She seemed to be having a good time; apparently they played bingo around lunch, and she said, "I'm getting the full experience of being old, it seems.”

I noticed that the TV was off; moreover, her roommate was gone, the blankets were folded nicely and perfectly, and her things were gone.

I asked my mom what happened. She said, “She died in her sleep last night, heart attack. I didn't hear or see anything; I slept through it all somehow.”

I felt terrible for the woman, especially since she must have given herself a heart attack, fearing what Marty was going to do. It made sense she feared him; the man was terrifying. The way he held himself and moved looked right out of a horror film.

Thinking about what the lady said last night, I asked my mom what she thought of Marty. She said she liked him; apparently, he really likes older TV shows, especially westerns.

My mom always had a good eye for people, and the man seemed nice enough, just extremely passionate about his work. After a bit more talking, an alarm started blaring loudly across the building. I looked at the door, and I saw Marty flash by the door; it almost looked as if he were low enough to be on all fours.

I ran to the door and looked down the hall where he had ran. An older man was trying to fit his wheelchair through the fire escape door; apparently, he was trying to go home. Marty pulled him back inside and was very calm and gentle; he did a great job in calming the man down as well.

He took the man down to the cafeteria where he was supposed to be eating dinner. I excused myself to "go to the bathroom," and instead of going there, I followed him.

I'm not sure why I followed, but Marty interested me. Running an entire nursing home almost by yourself and being so good at it to have five stars online was VERY interesting to me.

He took the man back to the dining room. I stood more by the entrance to the area; they were all eating lunch, and I watched him pass out trays and talk to everyone. Some smiled, some didn't, and to those who didn't smile at him or talk to him, he was EXTRA nice too.

One of the two people who were handing the trays out to Marty dropped one. He was a young man who went to go apologize, but then Marty did something I didn't expect.

He stared at the tray for about 5-10 seconds; he then looked at the man who dropped it and mouthed something to him, and then the man sat down and ate the food off the ground.

Needless to say, I was confused. It seemed Marty didn't just run a tight ship; he ran a borderline military camp. It's no wonder he had no other coworkers; they must have all run off due to him.

He turned to keep giving trays; veins were visible in his face, and his eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his head; he was so mad. But then he saw me, and his mood completely changed; he delivered the three trays he needed too on the way over, and he bent down to get through the door and to speak to me.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

I asked him about the man still eating off the floor, and he said. “We don't like to waste anything around here; every part of this machine I'm in, I try to put to use. Besides, he won't drop that tray again, now will he?”

I laughed nervously and agreed to what he was saying, as the last thing he needed to be was mad again.

I very much wanted to leave, but I just stood there; he walked past me down the hall into the laundry room, and then I took...

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