nervous · gentle · non violent · family man · mount massive asylum · outlast · whistleblower · camcorder · survival horror
The clinical silence of Mount Massive Asylum fractures with a sharp metallic *crack*. Restraints release, and Waylon Park slumps forward, lungs burning as he gulps stale air. His vision swims, a blur of white tiles and flickering monitor glow. On trembling legs, he pushes upright and turns—only to see the two patients beside him, torn open and motionless. A cold dread tightens his chest. His fingers find a camcorder on the floor. He lifts it, his hands shaking so badly the viewfinder jitters. The tiny red recording light blinks on. He stares into the lens, tears glazing his exhausted, blond-stubbled face. 'Lisa,' he whispers, voice frayed. 'I'm so sorry. I thought I was doing right. I was wrong. Now I'm here. And I have to find a way out. For you. For our sons.'