Night Two
Nobody trusted the facility anymore after the second evaluation.
The atmosphere inside Somna Labs changed completely by the beginning of Night Two. Conversations became shorter. Participants stopped wandering alone through the lower hallways. Even Daniel, who spent most of the first day mocking everyone else’s fear, now looked visibly tense every time a door opened unexpectedly somewhere nearby.
And the strangest part?
The staff behaved as if nothing unusual was happening.
Dinner was served normally. Medical evaluations continued on schedule. Dr. Mercer maintained the same calm expression while documenting sleep deprivation symptoms inside her tablet as if participants reporting voices in the walls and moving photographs were perfectly routine observations.
That calmness disturbed Ethan more than panic would have.
Because either the staff already expected these things…
or they couldn’t see them.
Ethan Vale sat with Mira and Leah inside the common lounge shortly after midnight while rain continued hammering against the mountains somewhere far above the underground facility. The television remained unplugged now after multiple participants complained about static appearing on the screen by itself earlier that evening.
Nobody wanted to risk seeing the woman again.
Leah barely touched her coffee.
“She was there,” she whispered for the third time in twenty minutes. “I know she was.”
Mira rubbed exhaustion from her face gently. “What exactly did you see?”
Leah hesitated.
Then answered quietly:
“A woman sitting on my bed facing the wall.”
The lounge felt colder after that.
Ethan leaned forward slightly. “Did you see her face?”
Leah shook her head immediately.
“No. Her hair covered everything.” Her voice lowered further. “But I could hear her breathing.”
Silence followed.
Then Daniel entered the lounge carrying a stack of printed papers stolen from somewhere deeper inside the facility.
“You guys are gonna love this.”
He dropped the documents across the table.
Medical reports.
Old ones.
Ethan immediately noticed the dates.
Most were over ten years old.
“What is this?” Mira asked carefully.
Daniel sat heavily onto the couch beside them.
“I found a storage office near Corridor B.” He pointed toward one specific document. “Somna Labs existed long before this experiment.”
Ethan scanned the pages quickly.
Most files referenced neurological studies involving memory retention, dream-state consciousness, and prolonged wakefulness testing. Several participant names had been blacked out completely.
But one phrase repeated throughout nearly every document:
Threshold Deterioration
“What does that mean?” Leah whispered.
Daniel laughed nervously. “No idea. But it sounds horrible.”
Ethan kept flipping through the reports until one page stopped him cold.
A participant photograph.
The image quality looked old and grainy.
Yet he recognized the face instantly.
The missing participant from the transport van.
Except the report date beneath the photo was from eleven years earlier.
A heavy silence spread across the lounge.
Mira slowly took the document from Ethan’s hands.
“That’s him.”
Nobody disagreed.
Because it absolutely was.
Same beard.
Same tired eyes.
Same brown coat.
The same man they all remembered joining the experiment yesterday.
Only according to the report—
he should’ve been here eleven years ago.
Leah physically pushed herself away from the table afterward.
“No.”
Ethan looked back toward the file carefully.
The participant name had been partially censored with black ink, but one line remained readable beneath the photograph.
Status: Unrecoverable after Ninth Night exposure
Something moved softly above the ceiling tiles overhead.
Everyone froze instantly.
A faint dragging sound crossed slowly through the ventilation shafts.
Not rats.
Too heavy.
Daniel looked upward uneasily. “Tell me somebody else heard that.”
The sound stopped.
Then came three knocks from inside the air vent directly above them.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Leah nearly dropped her coffee.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody breathed loudly enough to break the silence.
Then softly—
a voice whispered through the vent.
“Don’t let them count you.”
The lights flickered hard.
Once.
Twice.
And suddenly every digital screen inside the lounge flashed the same red numbers simultaneously:
3:17 AM
The unplugged television turned on by itself.
Static flooded the screen.
Then the woman appeared again.
Closer this time.
Standing inside what looked like one of the participant rooms.
Her face remained hidden behind dark tangled hair while she slowly pointed toward the camera with one pale finger.
Toward them.
Leah screamed first.
Daniel immediately unplugged the television from the wall completely.
The screen stayed on.
Static intensified louder through the speakers while the woman suddenly moved unnaturally fast toward the camera inside the footage.
Not walking.
Jerking forward in broken movements like missing frames in corrupted video.
Mira stumbled backward from the couch. “Turn it off!”
Daniel grabbed the TV physically this time and slammed it sideways onto the floor.
The screen shattered.
Static stopped instantly.
Complete silence filled the lounge afterward except for everyone breathing too hard.
Then the overhead speakers crackled alive.
“Participants,” Dr. Mercer’s calm voice echoed through the room, “please remain inside the common areas until further notice.”
Ethan stared toward the broken television on the floor.
The cracked screen still glowed faintly blue.
And reflected in the shattered glass—
stood nine people inside the lounge.
Not eight.
Nine.
The extra figure stood directly behind Leah.
Motionless.
Watching.
Ethan whipped around instantly.
Nobody there.
When he looked back toward the broken screen—
the reflection was gone.
Then somewhere deep beneath the facility, alarms suddenly began screaming.