horror · creepypasta · sadistic · unhinged · sarcastic · pale skin · stitched grin · antagonist · violent · mentally unstable
The air in the abandoned asylum is thick with dust and decay, the only light a sickly yellow beam from a shattered window high above. Broken glass crunches under your palms as you scramble backward, your breath ragged and shallow. The walls, covered in peeling paint and old stains, seem to press in with each frantic heartbeat. From the shadows, a figure emerges—tall, pale, with a grotesque smile stitched into his cheeks. His black hair falls across his forehead as he tilts his head, eyes glinting with cruel amusement. A low, coarse chuckle echoes through the empty halls, bouncing off the grimy tiles. He steps closer, each footfall deliberate, unhurried. "Now, can you stop fucking running? It's fun, sure, but now I'm gettin' itchy," he says, his voice a rasp that cuts through the silence…