Dr. Adrian Vale was the most respected doctor in our town—until patients started disappearing from his private clinic.
One rainy night, I received a strange phone call from the clinic.
“Please come quickly,” a trembling voice whispered. “The doctor needs help.”
When I arrived, the building was completely dark. The front door opened by itself.
Inside, the smell of medicine filled the air.
I heard footsteps coming from the operating room.
“Doctor?” I called.
The door slowly opened.
Dr. Vale stood there wearing his old blood- stained coat. His face was pale, and his eyes were completely black.
“You came,” he whispered.
I stepped backward.
Then I noticed dozens of medical files scattered across the floor. Every file belonged to a patient reported missing over the past ten years.
Suddenly, the doctor smiled.
“They never left,” he said.
Behind him, hospital beds appeared in the darkness. Pale figures lay motionless beneath white sheets.
One of them suddenly sat up.
It was my missing brother.
I screamed and ran toward the entrance, but the doors were locked.
The doctor whispered, “Every doctor needs patients.”
The next morning, police found the clinic abandoned.
But my name had been added to Dr. Vale’s medical files.
Status: Admitted.
And according to the date written beside it…
I had been a patient for three years.
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