Sam is so babygirl
The night was dark and cold as Sam, Colby, Corey, and Elton approached the desolate St. Gertrude’s Asylum, its rotting walls and cracked windows standing as a grim reminder of the horrors that once occurred within. The rusted gate creaked ominously as they pushed it open, a sound that echoed in the heavy silence.
“I don’t like this place,” Corey muttered, looking around nervously as he followed the others. “This just feels wrong.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” Sam teased, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “We’re just here to film for TFIL, remember? What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I don’t know, maybe the building decides to collapse on us?” Corey shot back, half-joking, half-serious.
Colby, who had been unusually quiet, glanced at Sam and gave a faint smile, but the worry in his eyes didn’t escape Sam’s notice. “Let’s just be careful, alright? We’re here for a video, not a rescue mission.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam replied, trying to hide his own growing unease. “We’re fine. Nothing’s gonna happen.”
As they entered the asylum, the air grew thick with dust and mildew, the faint scent of decay filling their nostrils. The walls were cracked and peeling, the floorboards warped with age. Every step they took sent shivers through the group, the heavy silence broken only by their voices and the occasional creak of the building around them.
“So, what do we have here?” Sam asked, shining his flashlight on a rusted wheelchair that sat abandoned in the hall. “This place is straight out of a horror movie.”
“Yeah, well, I’m more worried about getting out of here in one piece,” Corey replied, looking over his shoulder nervously.
“I get that,” Colby said, his voice low, his eyes darting around the room. He kept his distance from the others, standing closer to Sam than anyone else. “This place is dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Please. It’s just an old building,” Sam shrugged, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
As they made their way deeper into the asylum, the walls closed in, the hallways narrowing. Sam found himself walking ahead of the group, his curiosity getting the better of him as he pushed open a door and stepped into what appeared to be an old operating room.
“I’ll be fine,” Sam called over his shoulder, his voice muffled as he stepped further inside. “It’s just some old surgical equipment. You guys are too slow.”
“Sam, don’t go too far,” Colby called after him, but Sam was already moving toward a rusted gurney at the center of the room, his flashlight casting eerie shadows on the walls.
“Come on, Colbs, relax. What’s the worst that could happen?” Sam called back, though the words felt hollow as a chill ran down his spine.
The building seemed to groan under the weight of time, the floor shifting beneath their feet. Colby’s eyes never left Sam as he took cautious steps into the room. “Seriously, Sam, you need to be careful,” he said, his voice tight with concern.
But before anyone could react, the floor beneath Sam gave way with a sudden, deafening crack.
“Sam!” Colby shouted, his heart stopping in his chest as Sam fell through the floor, his scream echoing through the room.
“Sam!” Colby rushed forward without thinking, barely catching Sam’s wrist before he could fall further. Sam’s weight pulled on him, and for a brief moment, Colby thought he might lose him.
