Sometime in the late 1970s, deep within the heart of a once-thriving Midwestern town, loomed the crumbling remnants of St. Mercy Hospital. Its once-pristine facade was now marred by time and neglect, a silent testament to the unholy experiments conducted within its walls. Dr. Amelia Hart, a local historian, had heard whispers of the hospital’s dark past. Drawn like a moth to flame, she found herself standing before the imposing iron gates one crisp autumn evening. The air was thick with decay and the weight of unseen eyes, as if the very soul of the place watched her intrude. The heavy doors groaned open, revealing a yawning maw of darkness. Amelia stepped inside, her footsteps echoing ominously on the cold tile floor. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, mingling with the damp odor of decay. She could almost hear the echoes of screams, the desperate pleas for mercy that had fallen on deaf ears. As she ventured deeper into the labyrinthine corridors, a sudden chill gripped her. The temperature plummeted, and her breath misted in the frigid air. A faint, eerie wail echoed through the halls, growing louder, more insistent. It seemed to beckon her further, drawing her inexorably towards the heart of darkness. Suddenly, she was no longer alone. Ghostly figures materialized from the shadows, their faces contorted in agony and rage. They were the patients, the forgotten souls who had perished under St. Mercy’s unholy experiments. Their eyes burned with a malevolent intensity, accusing her – or perhaps all of humanity – for the crimes committed against them. Trapped in the grip of their collective fury, Amelia could only stand and tremble as the echoes of the past closed in around her. The Abandoned Hospital had claimed another victim, drawn into its grasp by the insatiable hunger for vengeance that lingered like a stain on its cold, sterile halls.