Shadows of St. Dymphna Asylum

The Fate of the Jake

While Josh and Isaiah believed Jake had been lost in the asylum that night five years ago, the truth was far more twisted.

---

When the door slammed shut behind Josh, Jake was plunged into darkness, separated from his friends in an instant. He stumbled through the pitch-black room, his breath ragged, flashlight flickering as the air turned cold and heavy. He could feel something watching him—an unseen presence lurking just out of reach.

Panicking, Jake spun in circles, his flashlight beam sweeping across rotting furniture and the faint outlines of forgotten medical equipment. Then, he heard it—whispers. Soft, insidious murmurs that seemed to crawl inside his ears and burrow into his mind.

"Help me..." the voice rasped. It was Rhys.

Jake's heart pounded in his chest as he frantically searched for the source. "Rhys? Where are you?" he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. But the room was empty, save for the shifting shadows.

The whispering grew louder, overlapping into a cacophony of voices. "Jake, over here..." "You can't leave us..." "It's all your fault..."

Sweat dripped down his face as he backed toward the door, but it wouldn't budge. The walls felt like they were closing in, pressing against him, suffocating him. Then the whispers stopped, replaced by silence so thick it was almost deafening.

"Don't run, Jake." The voice was sharp and cold, coming from right behind him.

Jake whipped around, and that's when he saw her—Lani, standing in the corner, her face half-hidden in the shadows. Her eyes were dark voids, and her smile was twisted, far too wide for her face.

"No... no, you're dead!" Jake screamed, stumbling backward.

Lani took a step forward, and with her came others—Fritz, Rhys, Byleth—each of them broken, twisted versions of who they once were. Their movements were jerky, unnatural, as if they were puppets on strings. They surrounded Jake, their empty eyes locking onto him.

"You left us," Rhys whispered, his voice layered with bitterness and pain. "You ran when we needed you."

"I didn't... I couldn't..." Jake's voice cracked, tears streaming down his face. "It wasn't my fault!"

But the apparitions didn't care. They reached out, fingers clawing at him, pulling him into the shadows. Jake felt their icy grip dragging him down, his vision blurring as darkness swallowed him whole.

---

### Five Years Later

Jake never made it out of St. Dymphna that night. The asylum didn't kill him—no, it had something far worse in mind.

When Josh and Isaiah returned five years later, Jake was still inside, but he wasn't the same person anymore. The asylum had twisted him, reshaped him into something monstrous. Jake had become one of its guardians, a puppet bound to the will of the building. The whispers had driven him mad, eroding his sanity until all that remained was a hollow shell driven by the asylum's malevolent intent.

Jake now roamed the decaying corridors, hunting those who dared enter St. Dymphna. His body was emaciated, his skin stretched tight over bones, eyes sunken and lifeless. His once-friendly face was now a mask of torment, a permanent grimace etched into his features. He no longer recognized himself or what he had become. He only knew one thing—anyone who entered the asylum was his to claim.

When Josh and Isaiah returned, they didn't recognize the gaunt figure lurking in the shadows. But Jake knew them. Somewhere deep inside, a flicker of his old self stirred—memories of friendship, of shared laughter. But it was drowned out by the overwhelming need to please the asylum, to deliver more souls to its depths.

Jake watched them from the darkness, waiting for the moment to strike. When Isaiah was dragged into the pit, Jake felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. Another soul for the asylum. Another piece of himself lost forever.

When Josh fled, Jake wanted to follow, to end it once and for all. But the asylum wouldn't let him leave. He was bound to it, eternally trapped, eternally serving. The shadows wrapped around him like chains, holding him back, reminding him that he was part of this place now—*and always would be*.

Jake's fate was sealed the moment he was separated from his friends. There would be no redemption, no escape. Only endless wandering in the labyrinth of St. Dymphna, hunting new victims and adding to the asylum's collection of lost souls.

In the end, Jake became just another ghost in a place where the line between the living and the dead no longer mattered. And as the years went by, the memory of who he was faded, leaving only a creature of the darkness—one more face in the pit, one more twisted smile among many.

---

**Jake didn't die in St. Dymphna. He simply *became* it.**