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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/DarksomePrairie on 2026-07-31 18:11:08+00:00.

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“The ghosts will be the least of your concern, I promise. Just keep an eye on the patients and make friends with the nurses and you’ll be fine.”

Everyone knew the psychiatric hospital had a newly-bestowed reputation for being haunted. It definitely made for good storytelling around the town’s coffee tables and bar tops, but I found it upsetting to think that the patients—already stigmatized and suffering an assortment of mental illnesses—had claimed to have such terrifying experiences within the large old limestone institution.

It was my first day as a pharmacy technician at the hospital and Ava, the tenured psychiatric pharmacist, was giving me a tour. I asked her about the patient-reported phantom supposedly stalking the dim halls and my new boss laughed it off, continuing through a nurse’s station.

“People have always considered this place spooky—along with every other psychiatric center on the planet. I’ve never had a weird experience. To me, it’s just a reminder of the very real challenges our patients face—a strong reminder they need our help.” Ava paused to sip her coffee. “Too, Seabrook’s lab burning down didn’t help matters. Patient 402 thinks a spirit escaped the fire and has strolled over to torment him and the other patients.”

I should probably expand on what Ava meant here: Seabrook-Braun is a national defense contractor and research laboratory with offices and facilities scattered across the US. The company has been around for decades with seemingly infinite cash and resources on hand. One of their smaller laboratory sites was across a field from the hospital. It was a well-guarded office building from the outside, but most townsfolk knew there were likely numerous underground floors with teams of scientists working on their assigned projects. My dad’s guess was the reverse engineering of alien technology, while my boyfriend assured me their work had something to do with testing super soldier serum. So, um, yeah …

But a few weeks ago the lab burned down, Seabrook bulldozed the property, and the scientists left town hurriedly in the night. No one knows what happened … or what supposedly “escaped.” Regardless of what really occurred, it certainly added supernatural fuel to the numerous patient claims of a specter in their midst.

The first few days of my new job went exceedingly well—so much better than my last pharmacy gig—and all of the doctors, nurses, and staff members welcomed me with open arms. A typical day saw me restocking medications on the various patient floors, mixing IV bags in the pharmacy, and occasionally interacting with patients to hear how they were handling their new drug regimens.

And the patients loved me. I’m a listener, I’m empathetic, and I think they picked up on that. It felt good to make a human connection with these people who needed good care. Sure, a few of the men could be a little creepy with their stares or comments, but overall I felt good about my new workplace. I felt happy, like I was making a difference.

Until my empathy was seen as an open door for something sinister … and everything changed.

I should start by telling you what some of the patients experienced in those weeks between Seabrook-Braun’s lab burning down and me starting at the hospital. I’ll share some of the stories below with random numbers assigned to patients to protect their privacy. I should also note that our patients have their own rooms, most of which are unlocked. Additionally, there are common areas where patients and staff may be found throughout the day.

Patient 122 claimed his door opened and closed multiple times one night on its own. His personal collection of books was rifled through and strewn about. One of the books appeared to levitate on its own as the pages flipped.

Patient 336 reported valuable items missing from her room: a watch, a wedding ring, an iPad.

Patient 199 claimed the flushing of her toilet woke her up one morning. No one was in the room with her.

Patient 209 woke his entire floor one night screaming. He claimed someone was sitting on him, touching his face, tickling him … the orderlies found him alone in his room upon arrival.

Patients 122, 175, and 422 were playing a board game in one of the hospital’s common areas when their table flipped over on its own, scattering cups and game pieces across the floor. 422 said he felt hands briefly wrap around his throat.

The reports trickled in from the patients, but no one—the doctors, staff, family, or friends—believed them. And though I felt for the patients, I didn’t believe the hospital was haunted either, or that a test-tube ghost had escaped from the now-razed Seabrook-Braun lab. Until I was seven days into my new job.

Alone, and enjoying the solitude, I stocked one of the medication dispensing machines in the third-floor supply room.

And something … petted … my hair.

“Oh—oh I like you … pretty, pretty girl.”

I screamed and tried to run from the supply room, but an invisible force gripped my wrist and continued speaking in a man’s raspy croon.

“And you’re kind, too. I’ve seen it. You really see people don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Get the fuck off me!” I shrieked, pulling away from the phantom’s grasp, horrified that I was either going insane or meeting the infamous spirit face-to-face.

“If you make a deal with me … I’ll let you go,” the voice said.

“Yes, yes, anything—just let me go!”

“I’m a recent escapee; the rumors are true. I’ve spent a few weeks here getting used to being out—to being free, but I won’t stay in this hospital forever. I’m leaving tomorrow … and I want you to come with me. I’ve taken a … liking … to you. In the morning be in this supply room, bags packed, and we’ll leave together.”

“There is no way in hell I’m going with you!” I yelled and punched at the disembodied voice, swearing I could feel firm skin or substance upon impact.

The ghost continued: “Fine. If that’s your choice, but there will be consequences. Every morning I don’t find you in this room … someone in this hospital dies. It’s up to you, pretty girl.”

With that it gave a final guttural chuckle and released my wrist. I stumbled back against the wall with my heart slamming against my ribcage. Whatever it was had gone and I ran out of the room.

I told no one what had happened. I couldn’t begin to imagine how they would look at me when I, too, had claimed to have encountered the lab-leaked apparition. I said nothing and I sure as hell did not go anywhere near that supply room on the third floor. I would call the ghost’s bluff.

But this turned out to be a mistake. I’ll be brief here because—to be honest—I can’t bear the guilt. I can’t bear knowing I could have acted sooner.

The next morning, a maintenance man fell down the elevator shaft and died.

The morning after that, an unexplainable medication overdose caused the tragic death of Patient 199.

And the morning after that, a nurse was strangled in the parking lot behind the hospital.

It became clear the ghost was doing this—these were not accidents, and I planned on meeting it in the third-floor supply room the next morning. I would go with it wherever it wanted, as long as the killing stopped.

I decided to visit my dad one last time before I left with the apparition. Out of curiosity, I asked again about the lab that had operated near the psychiatric hospital. I told him it was serious. I needed to know as much as I could about what happened in those underground tunnels. Every rumor. Every bit of gossip.

“I used to know a guy that worked security at Seabrook-Braun,” my dad said. “They didn’t hire a lot of people from town, but he scored a great job working the front entrance. We could give him a ring?”

I have to be quick for the sake of time, but I told my dad’s contact everything that had been happening and how I was now the target of something evil. I knew explaining the fact that my life was in danger could potentially get him to talk—to get him to share anything he knew.

I’ll abbreviate, but here’s some of what he told me: “As I’m sure you’ve guessed—I shouldn’t be saying shit to you about any of this, but it sounds like you’re in trouble. Look, all those scientists were as tight-lipped and secretive as could be. I never left the lobby and their work never left the below-ground labs. But there was one day two of the researchers talked excitedly as they left through the front doors—and I overheard them.”

“What did they say?” I asked.

“They had a test subject named Nemo. They referred to him as a dangerous “madman,” but as a perfect test subject for something called “INV-200”. They said they’d cracked the code, said they’d figured it out—”

“Figured out what?”

“Invisibility.”

Questions raced through my mind. Why was Seabrook-Braun testing INV-induced invisibility and how had they done it? Had they tested on Nemo against his will? Was he responsible for the fire—is that how he broke out of the lab? And most notably: why the fuck did he have to get obsessed with me of all people?

An unseeable man—the goddamned invisible man—a deranged murderer with a horrifying superpower—wanted me to run away with him!

Before leaving my dad’s house I grabbed the snub-nosed revolver he kept under his bed.

And as the sun rises this morning, I sit on the cold tile of the third-floor supply room, laptop balanced on my knees, typing this record. My dad’s pistol is on the ground beside me, dusty with the baby powder that now co...

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