The images captured by the camera the following night were enough to send chills down the spine of everyone on the team. At 2:37 AM, in a dark corner of the inner courtyard — exactly where the previous system had no coverage — a small, old door, hidden by ivy, opened silently.
Out of it stepped a figure of a man, dressed in white, with a surgical mask on his face. He was not recorded in any night shift. He did not appear in the logs.
The man waited. Not a minute passed before a patient — Maria, diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia — appeared quietly, as if she had been summoned. She said nothing. She walked directly towards him, as if hypnotized.
The cameras continued to record similar meetings in the nights that followed. Sometimes with other patients. Other times with the same one. All in the same place. Following the same pattern.
Those who analyzed the footage noticed a disturbing detail: none of the women seemed surprised. None appeared to be forced. It was as if these meetings were part of a ritual known only to them and… to that man.
In the morning, when the staff was urgently summoned to analyze the images, everyone was left speechless. But the real horror began when they decided to check that door.
That door did not appear in the building plans. The foundation had been renovated 12 years ago, and there should have only been a solid wall there.
They broke through the wall. Behind it, they found a short tunnel that descended steeply into a cellar. And there… a room with a camp bed, burnt candles, and an emergency medical bag. On the wall, a torn photograph: a young woman holding a child. On the back, a name written with a pen: Elena, 1991.
One of the oldest orderlies immediately recognized the face.
— She was a patient here. She died in the hospital, he said, his voice trembling. She had a child with another patient. But the child… was taken by the state.
That evening, an announcement was sent to all departments and the families of the patients. An official investigation was launched by the authorities. But what they found exceeded all reason.
The man in the images had been a patient in the past. He had escaped years ago. Never found. No one knew he had returned.
It seemed he had been digging the tunnel every night for years, from a nearby forest. He had managed to sneak inside without anyone noticing. In his mind, his former girlfriend, Elena, still lived there. And every woman with mental issues became, in his mind, a new Elena.
He was caught two days after the discovery of the room, trying to enter the institution again.
Ultimately, the pregnancies were investigated individually. None of the women were deemed fit to keep the child, but none expressed a desire to give up. All vaguely remembered “a garden,” “a gentle touch,” and “the voice of an old love.”
The hospital permanently closed that ward, and the tunnel was sealed with concrete. But the story remained.
And every year, at midnight on June 3rd, the nurses working the shift say they hear, faintly, from the corner of the garden, a man’s voice whispering a name: Elena.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or for how characters are portrayed and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
