Page 44 of Immersed
More static. If anyone was responding, their were voices lost in electronic interference.
“Could be interference from the building’s electrical systems,” Asher suggested.
Levi tried the second door with growing desperation. Same result—immovable despite having no visible locking mechanism. Even the handle turned freely, as if the doors themselves became solid barriers.
“This has to be some kind of safety system,” Asher said, circling the room like a predator inspecting territory. “Places like this housed dangerous patients. They needed rooms that could be sealed from the outside for containment purposes.”
“Containment?” Panic crept into Levi’s voice despite his efforts to control it.
“Think about it—psychiatric patients in the 1960s weren’t treated with modern understanding. Violent episodes, suicide attempts, escape risks.” Asher’s explanation sounded reasonable, clinical. “The building might still have mechanisms designed to lock down sections automatically.”
Levi pressed his shoulder against the door, straining with all his weight. The wooden frame didn’t even creak.
“We’re trapped,” he said, more to himself than Asher.
“Temporarily contained,” Asher corrected calmly. “There has to be a release mechanism. Hospital administrators wouldn’t have installed permanent locks—too much liability if staff needed access during emergencies.”
Fighting down hysteria, Levi forced himself to think like Ethan would. This was a game. Ethan always said games had rules, patterns to figure out. If they were trapped, there had to be a way out—some action or discovery that would trigger the next sequence.
“You’re right,” Levi said, his voice steadier. “Let’s search for anything that might control the doors.”
They began exploring the room systematically. Asher checked electrical outlets and wall panels while Levi examined the furniture and medical equipment displays. The visitor’s room contained more artifacts than he’d initially noticed—vintage medical instruments, patient records, even personal items that might have belonged to former residents.
Behind the straight razor display case, Levi discovered a leather-bound logbook chained to a small lectern. The pages were yellowed with age, covered in handwritten entries dating back decades. Most were routine administrative notes, but bloodstains darkened several pages, the brown stains forming abstract triangular patterns across the text.
“Find something?” Asher asked, appearing at Levi’s shoulder without warning.
Levi’s body went rigid at the proximity, but he forced himself not to step away. “Patient log. Looks like visitors had to sign in.”
The entries revealed a pattern—one name appeared repeatedly throughout the years. Dr. Faine had signed in almost daily, sometimes multiple times per day, visiting patients across different wards. The frequency seemed obsessive, irregular for standard medical rounds.
Dr. Faine. That name means something.
At the bottom of the lectern, a pen dangled from a thin metal chain, its ink should have been long dried. Levi lifted it, testing its weight. Still functional despite its age.
Sign the book. It’s what the game wants.
Without fully understanding why, Levi positioned the pen above a blank line at the bottom of the current page. His fingers hesitated, hovering over the paper.
“What are you doing?” Asher asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
“Following procedure,” Levi replied, scrawling his name in the logbook with deliberate strokes. The ink appeared darker than expected, almost black against the yellowed page.
He placed the pen back in its holder, the chain clinking softly as it settled. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the building groaned around them like something alive.
A soft mechanical click echoed through the room as the second door—the one leading deeper into the hospital—disengaged from its frame. The sound was barely audible, like a lock tumbler falling into place, but in the tense silence, it might as well have been a gunshot.
Levi’s head snapped toward the noise, relief flooding through him despite every rational thought screaming warnings. An exit. A way forward. Even if it led deeper into whatever nightmare the game constructed, it was still movement, progress, escape from this increasingly claustrophobic room.
Thank God. I don’t care what’s waiting out there—ghosts, monsters, anything—as long as it’snot—
Asher moved closer to examine the guestbook, his shoulder brushing against Levi’s arm as he leaned in. The contact sent electricity racing across Levi’s skin, every nerve ending suddenly hypersensitive to the warmth radiating from Asher’s body.
“Smart thinking,” Asher murmured, his voice dropping to that familiar register that whispered threats and promises across multiple deaths. The words ghosted against Levi’s ear, intimate and dangerous. “Good boy.”
Heat shot straight to Levi’s core, his body responding before his mind could intercept the signal. His breath hitched in the quiet room. The praise shouldn’t affect him like this—shouldn’t make his chest flutter, shouldn’t send tremors of want spiraling through his abdomen. But his treacherous body remembered that tone in different contexts.
