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@thikahsb14: senja kotapinang 🍃 🐊 #senjasorehari #kotapinanglabusel #fyppppppppppppppppppppppp

thikahsb
thikahsb
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Friday 17 January 2025 12:29:26 GMT
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I woke up in a hospital room with no idea how I got there. My mom was sitting beside me. My dad was standing near the window. “You fell down the stairs,” Mom said. “You hit your head pretty hard,” Dad added. I tried to remember. Nothing. The room looked normal. White walls. A heart monitor. A vending machine glowing down the hallway. But something felt wrong. Around midnight, I got hungry. My parents had gone home for the night, so I walked to the vending machine. I put in a dollar. Nothing happened. I pressed the button again. Nothing. I hit the glass. “Come on.” The hallway stayed silent. Too silent. I looked around. There wasn’t a single nurse. No doctors. No patients. Not even a cleaning cart. Every door was open. Every room was empty. I slowly walked back to mine. That’s when I noticed my mom had left her purse on the chair. I opened it, hoping she’d packed something to eat. Instead, I found my phone. I hadn’t even realized it was missing. The screen was covered in notifications. 47 missed calls. 83 messages. I opened the first one. It was from Mom. Where are you? Another. Please come home. Another. We miss you. Then one from Dad. Son, please answer. My hands started shaking. I texted Mom. I’m at the hospital. You were just here. She replied almost instantly. Stop saying that. Then: My son has been missing for eight months. I stared at the screen. A tear rolled down my cheek. I typed: What are you talking about? Her reply came back. If this is some sick joke, stop. Then Dad messaged. Is that really you? YES. Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then: Run. I stood up. Another message arrived. Listen to me. The hospital isn’t real. I looked around. The hallway suddenly felt much longer. Dad sent another message. The same thing happened to me. Fake parents. Fake hospital. There was something in the wardrobe. I looked toward my room. The wardrobe stood against the wall. One of its doors was slightly open. I hadn’t noticed that before. Dad messaged again. Don’t look inside. I heard a quiet creak. The wardrobe door opened another inch. Then another. I backed into the hallway. My phone buzzed. The more you look at it, the closer it gets. I ran. I didn’t know where I was going. I just ran through the empty hospital. Doors flew past me. Room 214. Room 214. Room 214. Every hallway looked exactly the same. Then I made the mistake of looking back. Something was standing at the end of the hallway. Tall. Thin. Its face was hidden in darkness. I looked away. It was closer. I looked again. Closer. I dropped my phone. The hospital lights went out. Something slammed into me. And I woke up. In the hospital bed. My mom was sitting beside me. My dad was standing near the window. “You fell down the stairs,” Mom said. I started screaming. I told them everything. The vending machine. The phone. The messages. The wardrobe. My dad stared at me. Then he quietly asked, “What did the last message say?” I froze. I hadn’t told him that part. I looked down at my hands. My phone was sitting beside me. The screen lit up. A new message appeared. You looked back again. I understood then. The loop wasn’t restarting randomly. It restarted every time I looked at it. So the next time I woke up, I did everything differently. I didn’t talk to my parents. I didn’t go to the vending machine. I didn’t touch the wardrobe. I walked straight to the hospital exit. The doors opened. Outside was my neighborhood. My actual house. My actual street. I almost cried. Then my phone buzzed. A message from Dad. Don’t go home. I stopped. Another message appeared. You escaped the hospital. Then: But you didn’t escape it. I slowly looked at my house. Every window was dark. Except my bedroom. Someone was standing behind the glass. It was me. Wearing the hospital gown. Smiling. Then my phone showed one final message. The hospital was never the loop. You were. #scary #scarystories #creepystorytime #captionstory #horrortok @Ruby 𐙚
I woke up in a hospital room with no idea how I got there. My mom was sitting beside me. My dad was standing near the window. “You fell down the stairs,” Mom said. “You hit your head pretty hard,” Dad added. I tried to remember. Nothing. The room looked normal. White walls. A heart monitor. A vending machine glowing down the hallway. But something felt wrong. Around midnight, I got hungry. My parents had gone home for the night, so I walked to the vending machine. I put in a dollar. Nothing happened. I pressed the button again. Nothing. I hit the glass. “Come on.” The hallway stayed silent. Too silent. I looked around. There wasn’t a single nurse. No doctors. No patients. Not even a cleaning cart. Every door was open. Every room was empty. I slowly walked back to mine. That’s when I noticed my mom had left her purse on the chair. I opened it, hoping she’d packed something to eat. Instead, I found my phone. I hadn’t even realized it was missing. The screen was covered in notifications. 47 missed calls. 83 messages. I opened the first one. It was from Mom. Where are you? Another. Please come home. Another. We miss you. Then one from Dad. Son, please answer. My hands started shaking. I texted Mom. I’m at the hospital. You were just here. She replied almost instantly. Stop saying that. Then: My son has been missing for eight months. I stared at the screen. A tear rolled down my cheek. I typed: What are you talking about? Her reply came back. If this is some sick joke, stop. Then Dad messaged. Is that really you? YES. Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then: Run. I stood up. Another message arrived. Listen to me. The hospital isn’t real. I looked around. The hallway suddenly felt much longer. Dad sent another message. The same thing happened to me. Fake parents. Fake hospital. There was something in the wardrobe. I looked toward my room. The wardrobe stood against the wall. One of its doors was slightly open. I hadn’t noticed that before. Dad messaged again. Don’t look inside. I heard a quiet creak. The wardrobe door opened another inch. Then another. I backed into the hallway. My phone buzzed. The more you look at it, the closer it gets. I ran. I didn’t know where I was going. I just ran through the empty hospital. Doors flew past me. Room 214. Room 214. Room 214. Every hallway looked exactly the same. Then I made the mistake of looking back. Something was standing at the end of the hallway. Tall. Thin. Its face was hidden in darkness. I looked away. It was closer. I looked again. Closer. I dropped my phone. The hospital lights went out. Something slammed into me. And I woke up. In the hospital bed. My mom was sitting beside me. My dad was standing near the window. “You fell down the stairs,” Mom said. I started screaming. I told them everything. The vending machine. The phone. The messages. The wardrobe. My dad stared at me. Then he quietly asked, “What did the last message say?” I froze. I hadn’t told him that part. I looked down at my hands. My phone was sitting beside me. The screen lit up. A new message appeared. You looked back again. I understood then. The loop wasn’t restarting randomly. It restarted every time I looked at it. So the next time I woke up, I did everything differently. I didn’t talk to my parents. I didn’t go to the vending machine. I didn’t touch the wardrobe. I walked straight to the hospital exit. The doors opened. Outside was my neighborhood. My actual house. My actual street. I almost cried. Then my phone buzzed. A message from Dad. Don’t go home. I stopped. Another message appeared. You escaped the hospital. Then: But you didn’t escape it. I slowly looked at my house. Every window was dark. Except my bedroom. Someone was standing behind the glass. It was me. Wearing the hospital gown. Smiling. Then my phone showed one final message. The hospital was never the loop. You were. #scary #scarystories #creepystorytime #captionstory #horrortok @Ruby 𐙚

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