Chapter 1

Fourteen days. It has been fourteen days since my little brother and his friends were declared missing. Fourteen days since my family heard anything from Peter. He could be difficult, but he’d never just disappear like this.

Peter and his two friends, Michael and Corey, fancied themselves urban explorers. They enjoyed creeping through crumbling malls and abandoned theaters that people whispered were haunted. The police had searched every likely spot within a hundred miles and found nothing but old squatters and empty spaces. They shrugged it off, convinced Peter and his friends had taken off for spring break. But Peter’s phone, always glued to his hand, had gone straight to voicemail. And it stayed that way.

Frustrated with the lack of progress, I took a leave of absence from my job and returned to my hometown, determined to find Peter myself. The first place I went was our childhood home.

It was early morning when I arrived, and the house was quiet, or so I thought. My parents were awake, moving through the house like ghosts, their eyes hollow and tired. They hadn’t slept. How could they? Peter’s room was a disaster, made worse by the police rummaging through it for clues. His computer sat untouched in the corner. When I turned it on, I was greeted by my first obstacle, a password.

I tore through his desk, notebooks, and every scrap of paper I could find, desperate for a clue. A poster of some grungy, tattooed band caught my eye: Vexor. Peter loved that band. I typed the name into the computer. Incorrect it said bouncing back. I sighed, leaning back in his chair, frustration bubbling up. The room felt suffocating, as if Peter's absence left a void I couldn’t fill.

Then I caught sight of the poster again, reflected in the mirror. Backwards. Vexor read “Roxev.” It was a long shot, but I typed it in. The screen unlocked.

I exhaled, a small victory in a sea of uncertainty. I clicked through his files until I found a chat between Peter, Michael, and Corey. One message stood out: a link to a YouTube channel called The Unexplained Adventurers Club. I clicked through their videos which were well-edited shots of the three boys exploring decaying buildings and forgotten places. The latest video was of them at an old mill on the outskirts of town, and in the final minutes, they mentioned their next destination: St. Dismas Asylum.

I Googled the asylum and immediately felt a chill. It was an old, abandoned place, shut down decades ago amid rumors of human experiments. The photos online were grainy, but enough to show a crumbling building shrouded in decay. The idea of Peter and his friends exploring that place made my stomach twist. Still, if that’s where they’d gone, that’s where I’d have to go.

The drive to St. Dismas was long and oppressive. The sky darkened as I left the highway, and the backroads leading to the asylum were barely roads at all mostly just dirt paths winding through thick woods that seemed to close in around me. The trees were lifeless, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. My headlights barely cut through the gloom, and with each mile, the silence grew heavier.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I saw it. St. Dismas sat perched on a hill, towering over everything like a malevolent giant. It looked wrong, almost as if it was leaning toward me, beckoning me closer. The building’s jagged silhouette was barely visible against the night sky, but it exuded an aura of decay and abandonment. Yet, even from a distance, I felt eyes on me, like the asylum itself was watching.

I should have stopped. I should have turned back. But as I neared the gate, I spotted a Jeep Grand Cherokee, partially hidden by overgrown bushes. My heart hammered in my chest. It was the same Jeep the boys had last been seen in.

I pulled up alongside it and stepped out, the cold night air biting at my skin. My flashlight beam swept over the Jeep, and dread coiled in my stomach. Two tires were flat as if they had driven over something sharp. My breath caught as I tried the doors, but they were locked tight. The back hatch gave way after a few tugs, and I climbed inside. The keys were still in the ignition, but the engine wouldn’t turn. The battery was dead.

I rummaged through the glove box and found the insurance papers. Michael Cromwell. I was right, it was their car. But where were they?

I checked my phone again. No signal. Of course. I could go back, try to find service, but the thought of leaving them behind felt like abandoning them. I had to keep going.

The gatehouse beside the fence had a faint glow coming from inside. I hesitated, then entered, my nerves frayed with every step. The light inside flickered, casting long, wavering shadows. An old computer sat in the corner, but it was the bright orange button on the wall that caught my eye. It had to be for the gate.

With a deep breath, I pressed it. The gates groaned as they slowly creaked open, their rusted hinges screaming in the silence. I jumped, startled by the sudden noise. For a moment, I stood frozen, staring at the gaping entrance. There was no turning back now.

I passed through the gates, and they slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing through the air like a final warning. My flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the dry, brittle ground beneath my feet. The earth seemed dead, drained of life, much like the trees that stood sentinel around the asylum. In the distance, I spotted a single light in one of the upper windows. It shouldn’t have been there, there was no reason for a place like this to still have power.

I made my way to the front doors, their heavy oak frames bound with thick chains and a rusted padlock. I shook them, but they wouldn’t budge. My flashlight beam flickered as I peered through the grimy windows. Inside, I could see the outline of an old waiting room, but there was no movement, no sign of life. I swept the light around, looking for a way in, but the shadows seemed to twist and dance just out of reach, taunting me. I figured there must be a similar orange button inside the lobby to open the front gate again, there had to be or else I would be trapped here.

Then, I noticed the footprints. Three sets, leading around the side of the building, directly under the window with the light. I followed them, my flashlight flickering as if struggling against the oppressive darkness. The prints led to a metal trellis climbing the side of the stone wall. Several bars were broken, and my heart raced as I realized this was how Peter and his friends had entered.

I looked up at the window, the only sign of life in this dead place. I had no signal, no backup, and no way out until I found them. I took a deep breath, gripping the trellis. The metal flexed under my weight, but I climbed anyway, feeling the pull of something far darker than I’d expected waiting for me inside.

Hand over hand, I went until my fingers scraped against the rough stone of the window sill, and with a final heave, I pulled myself into the room, only to stumble and land hard on my chin, a cloud of dust erupting around me. Cursing under my breath, I rolled to my feet, the silence in the room heavy and oppressive, wrapping around me like a shroud.

The administrative room was oddly preserved, an old bank teller's lamp casting a weak glow over a desk cluttered with disheveled papers. Despite the dust covering nearly everything, some sheets bore the official stamp of St. Dismas, their pages oddly missing a layer a dust as though someone had been examining them recently. I rifled through the documents, noting the sterile language detailing procedures and consents that felt cold and clinical. A low hum pulsed in the air, reminiscent of faulty electrical wires crackling somewhere in the depths of the building.

As I approached the door, a sudden crash echoed through the hallway, sharp and disorienting. My heart raced as panic surged within me. I was seconds away from bolting back through the window when I hesitated. Peter could be in danger; I couldn’t abandon him, even if fear gnawed at my insides.

That sound was heavy and metallic but might have been the boys. What if they were trying to escape from somewhere? The thought froze me momentarily, but I steeled myself, pushed down the dread, and opened the door to the hallway.

Peering into the murky darkness of St. Dismas, I aimed my flashlight into the gloom. A long, hospital-style corridor unfolded before me, lined with doors that whispered secrets. Some were slightly ajar, as if beckoning me closer, while others were locked tight, guarding their horrors.

A crooked sign hung on the wall, the word "ADMINISTRATION WING" scrawled in blood-red letters. I quickly checked my phone, praying for a signal, but the screen remained obstinately blank. With every step I took, the linoleum floor creaked, each echo amplifying my sense of vulnerability.

Then, I heard it. A faint dragging sound, like something heavy being pulled along the floor above me. My heart raced. Was it Peter? Or was it someone, or something else lurking in the shadows? Perhaps a deranged ex-patient or a sadistic doctor conducting nightmarish experiments on the unwitting?

A shiver danced down my spine. Calling out would be foolish; I needed to remain hidden, to find the source of the noise before it found me.

At the end of the hallway, I rounded a corner and stepped into a grand atrium that soared up to what I guessed was the fourth or fifth floor. A secondary staircase spiraled down from the second level, where another crooked sign announced: "BASEMENT."

From below, the low thrum of machinery struggled, a generator fighting to keep this forsaken place alive. I turned away from the darkness of the basement, drawn instead to the staircase leading up to where the earlier crash had sounded, and where my brother might still be.

The elevator loomed beside the staircase as I ascended to the third floor, its shaft a gaping, rusted wound in the building. The cage doors were twisted, and the cables creaked under the weight of time. I didn’t need to be told that stepping inside would be a death sentence.

At the top of the stairs, another crooked sign greeted me, reading “TREATMENT.” The air was different here it was heavy and oppressive, like a smothering blanket. It felt as though the walls themselves were watching, warning me to turn back. Halfway down the hall, a door stood slightly ajar, light spilling out into the gloom.

Something had been dragged across the floor. The linoleum was scarred with long, jagged marks, each one twisting like an omen of what lay ahead. My breath quickened as I moved toward the light, the ground shifting beneath me as if protesting my every step.

The door groaned as I pushed it open, the sound an unwelcome intrusion in the silence. The room beyond was bathed in the cold, sterile light of ancient machines. Their blinking lights seemed too alive for a place so devoid of life. At the center of it all, sitting ominously in the middle of the room, was an old leather hospital chair.

It was empty except for Peter’s camera. I recognized it immediately. His name was etched into the bottom, a habit of his. My hands shook as I picked it up, the cold plastic sending a shiver down my spine. I turned it on.

The footage was mundane at first; Peter and his friends driving up the hill to St. Dismas, laughing, joking. Then it cut to them climbing the trellis. It felt too familiar. The static that followed was jarring, but the next scene froze me in place: Peter, alone in a dark room, his face drawn tight with fear.

"Dont let it touch you." He said in a shaky voice.

A shadow shifted behind him, barely noticeable until it loomed, drawing closer. Peter shouted, then nothing. The screen flickered, and static returned.

A noise behind me shattered the trance. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, impossibly heavy. Something was coming down the stairs from the fourth floor. My heart pounded in my chest as I listened to the footfalls, each one reverberating through the floor. Whoever, or whatever it was, they were close, too close.

The light in the room was a beacon, a flashing sign that someone had been here. I cursed under my breath and moved to the door, peeking into the hall. The footsteps paused, the silence more terrifying than any sound. And then, they resumed faster, closer.

I darted into the hallway, my movements frantic as I spotted another open door across the hall. I slipped inside, turning off my flashlight and squeezing beneath an old gurney. The camera was still in my hand, its weight a reminder of why I was here. I pressed myself into the shadows, my breath shallow and uneven.

The heavy footfalls reached the room I had just left. A crash followed, loud and violent, as if something or someone was tearing the place apart. A low, guttural growl pierced the air, feral and raw. My stomach twisted in fear, and I prayed the thing wouldn’t find me.

Suddenly, the light from across the hall went dark. I stifled a gasp as the footsteps returned, this time stopping just outside my hiding place. The door flew open with a loud bang, the force shaking the walls.

A shadow loomed in the doorway it was a hulking figure, its body too large, too monstrous. The thing wasn’t human. Its head barely fit through the frame, and it had to stoop to look inside. Ragged, uneven breaths filled the room, accompanied by an unsettling, wet sniffling sound, like its lungs were struggling to draw breath.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep from screaming. My body trembled with fear, my limbs refusing to obey as I clutched the camera tighter, willing myself to become invisible. The creature moved deeper into the room, its bulk casting long shadows across the floor. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think I could only watch, helpless, as it scoured the space.

And then, just as suddenly, it turned away. The heavy steps shuffled back down the hallway, leaving the door wide open in its wake.

The danger wasn’t gone, but I had seconds. I had to move.

With my legs trembling and sweat beading on my brow, I crept through the open door into the hallway, following the beast's trail. Keeping my flashlight off, I pressed my back to the wall and slid toward the staircase leading down to the second floor. My goal was simple to reach the open window I had entered through. Forget the security gate. I'd dig my way out if I had to.

The lights flickered ominously as I made my way to the second floor. Then, in an instant, they died, plunging the asylum into total darkness. A series of metallic clangs rang out, making me flinch. I barely had time to react before a security gate slammed down inches from my face, the force of it almost knocking me over. The gate’s weight and speed were terrifying, nearly crushing me.

Suddenly, a savage roar pierced the silence from above, rattling the very walls. I dropped into a crouch, whipping my flashlight toward the third-floor staircase. The pounding of fists on metal echoed down the stairwell, shaking me out of my hesitation. The beast was there, trapped behind another gate.

I had no time. Without power, I couldn't get past this gate. Lifting it was futile it barely budged an inch. The only option left was to descend into the basement and restart the generator. Another crash reverberated from above as I stared into the basement's black maw. My stomach turned with dread, but there was no choice.

Step after step, I descended into the darkness. Each metal stair groaned under my weight, echoing in the silence. The basement was wet with filthy sludge from years of neglect coated the floor, soaking through my shoes as I splashed down the final steps. The steady drip of water echoed ominously from the far end of the hall.

My flashlight illuminated the decrepit elevator at the bottom it was a rusted, old-fashioned cage door hung open like a trap waiting to snap shut. Ignoring it, I made my way past empty, forgotten rooms, their shelves filled with decaying medical equipment. At the hallway’s end stood a large set of double doors. The generator had to be beyond them. The smell of diesel thickened the air, making me dizzy as I approached.

Inside, my light revealed a row of hulking diesel generators, their orange paint peeling like dead skin. Wires sprawled across the floor like tangled vines. I scratched my head, unsure of how to get them running, when my flashlight caught sight of another video camera placed on a workbench. It was focused on the generators, left behind, just like the last one.

The camera was dead, but I slid the SD card into Peter’s camera. My heart raced as I hit play, hoping to understand what happened to the boys.

The video flickered to life, showing Corey’s face as he set up the camera in the corner. He stepped back, joining the others near the generator.

“You see, guys? This old dinosaur runs off diesel. Help me roll one of those full barrels under the fuel line,” Corey instructed, motioning to the red barrels on the side.

The three boys grunted and strained, moving a barrel close to the pump. Corey switched the fuel line to the fresh barrel.

“Now what?” Peter asked, clearly uneasy.

“Now we crank it,” Corey replied, pushing a large steel lever several times before slamming the red button.

The generator roared to life, flooding the basement with harsh, flickering light. The boys cheered and high-fived, oblivious to what awaited them.

I fast-forwarded through the rest of the video, seeing nothing new. The footage ended with the boys leaving the basement. They never came back for the camera.

Pocketing the SD cards, I turned my attention to the generator. The barrel Corey set up was empty. I banged on it, the hollow sound confirming it was useless. After searching the room, I found only one barrel left with a fraction of its fuel remaining. Grunting, I heaved it over and swapped the fuel line.

Sweat dripped down my neck as I pushed the crank lever, using all my strength. On the fifth push, I slammed the red button. The generator sputtered, then roared to life. The lights flickered on, and I heard the distant metallic groan of security gates rising.

The beast was free.

My heart pounded as I ran from the room, splashing through the filthy water. The wet muck coated me as I sprinted back toward the staircase, knowing I had mere moments. The beast had been stuck on the third floor, but now the gates were open. My footsteps splashed and squelched as I reached the base of the metal staircase, panic flooding me.

And then I heard it the sound I dreaded most. Heavy footsteps.

The beast was coming.

Its monstrous form barreled down the stairs, a screech tearing from its throat. I froze, terror rooting me in place. My beam of light fell on it. It was twisted, grotesque, more monstrous than I could’ve imagined. The stairs warped and twisted under its weight as it charged me, jaws gnashing, and I could only think of Peter's warning.

“Don’t let it touch you.”

At the last second, instinct took over. I dove into the open elevator, wrenching the rusted steel grate shut behind me. The beast slammed into the bars, its deformed face inches from mine. I fell back in horror, shining the light in its eyes.

The thing’s body was swollen and thick, its skin a sickly green. Its gut sagged, making it look almost comical, but there was nothing funny about its strength. Its eyes were blue and too human they stared at me with a twisted intelligence. They were so similar to Peter’s eyes. The realization hit me like a hammer, but I had no time to dwell on it.

The creature roared, smashing its fists into the gate. I flinched as the rusted steel buckled slightly, struggling to contain its fury. Its flesh rippled and twisted, and I watched in horror as its right arm contorted, bones cracking and reshaping into a long, insect-like claw.

I kicked the rusted elevator lever in desperation. It snapped off, but the gears groaned, and the elevator jolted upward. I heard the beast scream as its arm got caught in the metal, snapping with a sickening crunch. The thing collapsed to the floor below as the elevator rattled its way up.

Shaking, I watched the basement disappear, leaving the monster and its terrifying form behind. But my relief was short-lived. The elevator was old, and the cable groaned in protest, straining under the weight. I felt every shudder in my bones.

The lift creaked to a halt on the fourth floor, and I scrambled out the moment the gate clicked open. As I leaped out, I looked back down the shaft where the beast still lay, writhing in the dim light.

I turned to the floor I now found myself on and squinted at the crooked sign hanging in the dimly lit hallway. “LABORATORY” it read, the mockingly red letters glowing against the peeling paint. The flickering lights overhead cast eerie shadows, igniting a surge of doubt and fear within me. I needed to escape, but deep down, I knew the beast lurking in the depths of this place would cut me off before I could reach the second floor. I could almost hear its heavy, deliberate steps echoing up the steel staircase from the basement, drawing closer with each heartbeat.

The fourth floor of St. Dismas was a maze of confusion, featuring only two doors. One was caved in, remnants of a roof that had given way long ago. The other opened into an ancient laboratory, where large, sci-fi looking machines crowded every available space. The lab was divided into sections filled with strange equipment and workstations, remnants of forgotten experiments. I trudged deeper into the room, searching for a suitable hiding spot as dread coiled in my stomach.

In the far corner stood two of the weirdest machines I had ever seen. They resembled transporters from Star Trek, but with metallic tubes snaking around them, giving them a sinister aura. A series of dials and blinking lights covered their surfaces, pulsing rhythmically like a heartbeat.

On a nearby desk lay the last camera, smeared with sticky red blood and shattered beyond recognition. My hands trembled as I pried the SD card from the wreckage, inserting it into Peter's device. The camera flickered to life, revealing Michael's perspective. I fast-forwarded the footage to after we had been in the basement.

The three boys appeared in the laboratory, their faces twisted with tension. They were arguing, and Peter looked particularly upset.

"Come on, what's the big deal? It'll be great for views! I'll stand in this transporter thing, and you guys can flip some switches. It’ll be a laugh!" Corey insisted, excitement dancing in his eyes.

"Who knows what it will do?" Peter replied, his voice a mix of concern and caution as Corey stepped into the chamber, shutting the metal door behind him.

"Who cares, Peter? It's just old lab equipment!" Michael shot back, his fingers already dancing over the buttons and switches on the control panel.

"But what about—" Peter began, but before he could finish, a loud zap echoed through the lab, and a blinding light filled the camera's view, cutting him off.

The footage froze for a moment, then cut out entirely. When the feed returned, the door to the machine stood ajar, and Michael knelt beside a lifeless form sprawled on the floor.

"Corey, no! Answer me!" Michael shouted, panic rising in his voice as Peter stood there, paralyzed in shock.

As Michael reached out to touch Corey’s body, something strange had happened his hand seemed to become stuck. Confusion washed over him as he tried to pull away, but nothing happened. Horror crept in as he began to scream, slowly being dragged toward Corey, who lay still on the ground. Little mouths, grotesque and hungry, seemed to emerge, chewing at Michael’s hand as Peter lunged forward, desperate to save his friend. But it was too late; Michael was soon consumed.

The camera turned to static, the horrifying scene shifting to a large beast, forming on its knees, slowly morphing into a grotesque humanoid creature. In the chaos, Peter had vanished, and the tape abruptly cut to black, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.

Tears streamed down my face as I began to comprehend the horrific truth: Peter and his friends were the beast they were the very monster that had been pursuing me. Sadness mixed with terror as I dropped to my knees, overwhelmed by the realization. The reason I had come was to find Peter, yet now that I had, I wished I hadn't. I wished I had never set foot in St. Dismas, never uncovered this nightmare.

But I had only one choice now: I had to destroy this beast. I had to kill my brother and his friends. This grotesque amalgamation of flesh was an abomination, and it needed to end.

I hesitated, the weight of my brother’s fate pressing down on me. Could I really do this? Memories flooded my mind; Peter's laughter, our games of tag, the way I used to chase off bullies after school. Tears blurred my vision, but I wiped them away, steeling myself for what lay ahead.

Peering over the railing of the atrium, I saw the beast pacing in the lobby, its hulking form a grotesque shadow. It seemed fixated on the orange button, like a sick parody of a kick the can me and Peter played as kids. He used to puppy dog guard the can. This was definitely cheating and I knew a form of Peter still lay inside the beast. I needed to lure it away from the first and second floors. My plan was to hit the button and escape. The thought of confronting it head-on was too much to bear.

It raged in a corner, ripping a chair from the lobby and hurling it across the room. The crash reverberated through the atrium as I ducked behind the railing, the beast glancing up, looking for any sign of my location.

I needed a distraction, any noise or light to draw its attention. The elevator dangled before me on its frayed steel cable, and a grim idea struck. I retreated to the laboratory and found a surgical bone saw, its edge rusted and used tainted with what I hoped wasn’t old blood.

Returning to the elevator shaft, I peered into the flickering darkness of the basement below. With a shaky hand, I removed the last SD card from Peter's camera, holding the digital camera over the edge. Saying a silent prayer, I released my final tie to Peter and watched it plummet down the shaft, shattering with a deafening echo.

The beast jerked toward the sound, crashing through the lobby, thundering up the stairs toward the second floor. It stumbled in its haste, crashing down the basement steps, the floor groaning beneath its weight.

With its attention diverted, I began to cut the cable of the elevator, adrenaline coursing through me. I stood precariously in the lift, the single cable that held the steel weight above me quivering with each cut.

As the cable frayed, I felt the elevator shift, dropping slightly. I dove back just as the last strand snapped, and I felt the rush of air as the elevator plummeted from the fourth floor, gaining speed as it fell.

A cloud of dust erupted from the shaft, and with an ear-splitting crash, the elevator smashed into the basement below.

A pained roar echoed from the basement, sending chills down my spine. I knew the beast was injured, Peter and his friends were injured. Sucking on my teeth, I rushed down the stairs two at a time. On the second floor, I glanced toward the basement stairs, hidden in a dark corner, and pointed my flashlight down.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I regarded the creature crawling up the stairs, twisted and deformed. Blood leaked from multiple wounds where the elevator had struck. I could hear its bones cracking and reforming as it ascended, inch by agonizing inch.

“Oh, fuck this.” The words escaped my lips, and I turned on my heel, fleeing. I stumbled down the stairs and crashed hard onto the tile floor of the lobby.

Sweat slicked my back as my flashlight flew from my hand, skittering beneath a chair. I abandoned my steadfast companion to the asylum. In front of me, next to the front door, loomed a bright orange button. Without thinking, I slammed into the door, my instincts taking over until I remembered the rusted chain securing it. I pressed the orange button, feeling the hum of electricity in the old wires and hearing the groan of the front gate as it opened into the asylum yard.

Backpedaling, I collided with a chair and stumbled before dashing up the stairs. The lights flickered faster and faster as I heard the generator shuddering beneath my feet.

“No, no, not like this!” I screamed, racing up the stairs two at a time.

As I reached the top, I tripped over something soft and squishy. My shoe sank into the flesh of the beast, and I felt my foot stick fast. I fell, catching myself with my arms. Looking down, I saw small mouths around my shoe digging into the rubber sole, wriggling beneath me. The lights flickered again, dimming noticeably.

Its grotesque face melted and reformed a dozen times before I wrenched my foot free, leaving my shoe behind as a treat for the beast.

“I hope you choke on it!” I yelled as I rolled backward, the beast screeching in rage.

The lights surged one last time, brightening before the security gate plummeted to the floor, severing the beast's head from its body.

Instantly, the creature stopped screeching and wriggling. I fell back on my butt, breathing heavily, as I heard the gate outside begin to close. I sprinted toward the office.

The gate outside closed slowly, the sun rising over the mountaintops. I dropped down the trellis and sprinted for freedom.

The gate crashed shut behind me with a hollow clang that echoed through the lifeless grounds of St. Dismas, sealing away not just the body of the monster, but the pieces of me it had devoured. I stumbled and fell. Dragging myself to my car, feeling the weight of the world pressing me down. The sun shone helplessly in the east, its light spilling across a sky that didn’t deserve the dawn. My breath came in ragged bursts as tears blurred the horizon, falling like the memories I was trying to forget.

Peter. His friends. They were gone. Stolen by the thing I had faced the thing still lurking in the dark corners of my mind. In my trembling hand, I clutched the three SD cards the three pieces of evidence that could save or damn the world. My fingers curled tighter around them as if holding onto the last threads of sanity, the last shreds of Peter and the life we once had. We were kids again, laughing in the yard, wrestling over toys, pretending the monsters in our games were harmless.

But this monster was real. It was made of nightmares. And I had to make sure it stayed locked away forever.

The memories of St. Dismas, the horrors that I had witnessed, could not be unleashed. Not even for the sake of justice, not even to give the world answers. Some truths were too dangerous, too heavy to bear. The tears kept falling as I leaned against the tire, feeling the first warmth of the sun touch my skin, mocking the cold that had settled inside me. This emptiness was my world now. A world without Peter. A world where I was the last to know the truth.

I came here for answers, and now that I had them, they were more than I could carry. The SD cards felt like lead in my hand. I looked at them, the proof of all that had happened, all that could destroy us. And then, with a scream that tore itself from the depths of my soul, I threw the first one as far as I could, watching it disappear into the empty field.

Then another. And another. Each one a piece of the nightmare, a piece of Peter, a piece of me. Gone.

I let out a shuddering breath, staring at the empty sky above, the finality settling over me like a heavy cloak. The world would never know. St. Dismas would fade into obscurity, its secrets buried with it. And myself?

I would forget.