Creepypasta

ASYLUM pt.4

THE FRIEND ZONE
After today's events, I'm unsure whether I should continue my investigation.

I resolved to speak personally to patients, rather than just read files; I had the notion that, if there was some agency working against me - possibly involving the chief of medicine - I should find patients without written or oral accounts. Only those furthest gone have refused to give statements... but I will be the only one to know their stories, and that will put me a step ahead.

I decided to start with the most heartbreaking patient we have. For several months, he has been unresponsive to any attempts to help him. I can't imagine being in his situation... but I have seen him recently responding to the nurse that takes care of him.

"Oh hey, I haven't seen you. I meant to say, thanks for handling the mail for me when I was out," she greeted me, smiling warmly.

Caught off guard, I only managed a weak reply. "Sure thing." I was always slightly flustered around her. For anonymity's sake, I'll call her... Claire. She was one of the prettiest nurses on staff, and I could see how our most unfortunate patient might open up to her. "You know, this might sound weird, but I have a favor to ask you..."

She seemed skeptical, and a little wary, but she relented.

She was also quite successful.

She and Mabel, a much older career nurse, both set up the room for the recording session. It's not that the patient was dangerous - in fact, quite the opposite - but his special condition merited extra observers, just in case.

Claire even brought us coffee - and handed a cup to me personally. "It's nice that you're taking a personal interest. The other doctors couldn't care less."

I gave a sheepish smile, and turned slightly red, I'm sure. "Thanks!"

I immediately grimaced when she turned away. I felt like an idiot schoolboy all over again.

The coffee mug paused before my lips, and I looked down at the swirling cream in brown, recalling certain unpleasant connotations from another patient's story. Overcome with a slight wave of disgust, I put the mug down, unable to drink it.

I shook it off and focused on the task at hand.

He lay in bed, unmoving, giving no indication that he was aware of me.

"Whenever you're ready..." I said, hesitant.

Mabel stood by with the recorder.

"Go ahead, honey," Claire told him.

He immediately began speaking. It amazed me - he wasn't catatonic at all. His voice came out clear and articulate, with a strange undertone of grim mockery, as if he knew some vast dark inside joke which he'd been keeping all to himself...

You want to know my tale? I'm not quite sure that you do. It's far closer to you than you realize.

Ok, but remember, you asked for it...

As all stories eventually do, mine involves a girl.

Oh, she was so pretty. Beautiful, even. I watched her from afar quite often. She didn't know I even existed, and probably didn't want to.

I'm no slouch... [mocking laughter]... I wasn't without girlfriends. It just seems that I always wanted the ones I couldn't have. I was starting to feel out of place in my old haunts, nearer thirty than twenty, and time just seemed to darken... and then, this light came around - her.

I wasn't obsessed. I want to make that clear. I just thought she was pretty. I didn't actually think I had a chance, and I didn't try to make a move.