Hi there. I've gone back and forth on whether to call about this, but I think people should hear it. So here it is. This was 1994. I was working at a care facility outside Terre Haute. Won't say the name, but it's still operating, far as I know. Long-term care, end-of-life, that sort of place. Mostly elderly patients. I'd been there about eight months when this started. I was doing nights on the east wing by myself. Just me. They could never keep staff on that wing, and I figured out why pretty quick. The east wing was where they put the patients who didn't have anyone. No family coming to visit. No one to call when things got bad. The rooms all had these thick blackout curtains, heavy fabric, because a lot of the patients had trouble sleeping and any light would set them off. We kept them drawn at all times. I don't think I ever saw those curtains open the whole time I worked there. My first week, one of the day nurses, Patty, she pulled me aside. Asked if anyone had told me about the rules for the wing. I figured she meant medication schedules, checking vitals, that kind of thing. She got this look on her face. Said no. Said there were other rules.
Patty told me that when a patient on the east wing was close, I mean really close, like hours away, I had to open the window in their room. Even in winter. Even if it was freezing. She said everyone who'd worked that wing knew about it. The window had to be open before midnight, or it would come inside instead of staying outside. I asked her what she meant by 'it.' And I know how that sounds, asking a question like that and expecting a real answer. But she was dead serious. She said there was something that came for the ones who died alone. The ones with no family. It waited outside their window, and as long as the window was open, it would stay there. It would watch. But it wouldn't come in. If the window was closed, if you forgot or didn't know, it would come inside the room. And whatever happened in there, the body would look wrong afterward. Not injured exactly. Just wrong. The face would be different. Patty said she'd seen it twice in eleven years. Said she'd never forget those faces. I thought she was hazing me. I know how that sounds. New girl, night shift, spooky stories. Classic.
But then other staff started saying the same things. Not dramatic about it, just matter of fact. Like they were telling me where the supply closet was. If someone's vitals are dropping and they're alone, open the window. Don't forget. The janitor, the other nurses, even the administrator once mentioned it in passing. Everyone knew. The first time I actually did it, it was for a man named Mr. Brennan. Ninety-one years old, no living family, hadn't had a visitor in the three years he'd been there. His breathing changed around nine that night. I knew he wouldn't make it to morning. So I went in his room and I opened the window. It was February. Cold as hell. I felt bad about it, but I did it anyway. I stood there for a minute, looking out at the parking lot. Nothing. Just darkness and the cold air coming in. I felt stupid. I closed the door behind me and went back to the nurses' station. He died around three in the morning. Peaceful, they said. When I went in to call it, the room was freezing. The window was still open. And I swear, I know how that sounds, but there were marks on the outside of the windowsill. Like something had been gripping it.
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