The Evil at the Psychiatric Facility

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I should mention that like my mother I am a ‘sensitive’ when it comes to paranormal things and spirits. I battle depression and it’s been really difficult at times dealing with it. This happened when I was only fourteen years old.

One day I couldn’t take it anymore and tried to kill myself by overdosing on one of my medications. My mom had me admitted to a psychiatric facility in my city for a month. The worst paranormal experiences I have ever had, came from that place. The building was old, very old and had changed hands many times. Before it was a Psychiatric facility it was an institution for the mentally insane from 1930 to 1984 when it was shut down due to health hazards (asbestos mostly). Remember this as it is important later on in the story.

The air in the building when I entered was heavy and oppressive, the walls practically oozed negative energy. I was led to a room which I was sharing with a girl a couple years younger than me. Let’s call her Shelly. Shelly was quiet and rarely said anything to anyone, she would just stare blankly at something while rocking back and forth. From her symptoms I figured she had a form of severe autism, the nonverbal kind. She was a little sweetheart though and made my stay there less awful.

The first night I was there I woke up in a cold sweat after having a horrible nightmare of a shadow laughing at me as it slowly sliced open my abdomen. My stomach was stinging, like how it feels when you scratch a sunburn, I rolled up the clothes they gave me (can’t quite remember if it was a hospital gown or not. I don’t think it was.) and saw a bright red mark down the middle of my stomach, the exact same place the shadow had cut me. It was burning and stinging greatly. At that moment I knew that my room had a dark force, a dark energy inside it, an evil that wanted to harm me.

This evil entity never showed itself to me when I was awake, only when I was asleep and I was sleeping quite a lot due to the large doses of different Antidepressants the doctors were prescribing me. I had only been there for two weeks when the dreams became so terrifying and so realistic I refused to go to sleep and actively fought against the urge to sleep as the nightmares had been steadily getting worse.

The nurses and doctors all noted my tired state about one week into my stay as I had not slept a wink in two full days and it showed. They asked me what was wrong so I told them about the nightmares I was having. Looking back I really shouldn’t have as that only made them prescribe me more drugs which I think permanently screwed up my liver and other internal organs.

I was forced to go to sleep and occasionally was intentionally sedated by the doctors as I would go 72 hours straight without sleep so as to avoid this entity and the nightmares it caused. I remember one time after they sedated me I woke up an unknown number of hours later to find that my arms had been torn to hell as though sharp claws or nails had deeply raked across my flesh. These cuts went from my wrists past my elbow and to my shoulder. They stung, burned, and bled. I clot quickly but these cuts kept bleeding, I had to have been bleeding for a while as the bedding around my arms was soaked in blood.

It was the work of this dark entity, I just knew it was. My nails had no skin or blood underneath them like they would have if I had clawed at my arms in my sleep. The nurses did not believe me though when I told them that I did not do this to myself, that I would never inflict such wounds on my body. Unsurprisingly they did not believe me and every night for the rest of the time I was there before going to bed I had to have my arms in restraints so I wouldn’t hurt myself.

I had never been a true Christian, and had not attended church or opened a bible since I was 12. But while I was there at that psychiatric facility I read the bible. I politely asked a nurse nearing the end of the time I was there if I could please have a copy of the bible to read from so as to help me through my depression. She agreed and gave me a rather worn copy (turns out it was the only copy they had) I thanked her profusely and went back to my room with Shelly and began reading some of the passages aloud but in a faint whisper. The first night I did that, I slept with no nightmares and woke up with no new marks on my body. So every night I kept doing that, up to the day I left. I returned the bible to the nurse and thanked her greatly for letting me borrow it and stated that it really helped ease my mind.

Four years later, at the age of eighteen I looked up the same psychiatric facility online, only to discover that less than six months after I left, it was shut down. The reasoning for it shutting down was never made clear in the article I read. Honestly, I’m just glad I left that place when I did!

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