Come Home To Me - ⚠️ WARNING -Graphic Content!

 

Mary Alice didn’t choose Somerset Nursing Home.
It was assigned. A cursed placement in a rotting facility that stank of mildew, bleach, and something metallic underneath—like rusted blood that had soaked too deep to scrub away.
At 26, Mary Alice should’ve had her whole life ahead of her. But her soul felt older every day she stepped through the heavy double doors. The air hung thick like phlegm in a dying man’s lungs. The lights flickered not because of faulty wiring—but because this place was rejecting electricity.
Mary Alice wasn’t just scared of the elderly. She was haunted by them. Her grandmother Anna had died here. But she hadn’t gone gently.
Anna, once so sweet and lucid, had deteriorated into a night-screaming, piss-covered shell of herself. Her skin split easily like old fruit. Her eyes… had turned black in her final days. Not from illness, but from something that had crawled in.
There were nights when Anna didn’t recognize Mary Alice. There were nights when she whispered, “It’s coming for you too.”
Mary Alice had prayed for her death.
She still hated herself for that.

She was warned by Margaret. Everyone who lasted at Somerset was warned. “Don’t linger in the right wing.”
That’s where Louise was. A mute Alzheimer’s patient who sang instead of speaking. Not songs from the radio. But guttural lullabies, like something dragged out of a crypt.
“She hums to something in the dark,” Margaret said. “Like she’s keeping it company… or feeding it.”
Then Margaret vanished.
Quit overnight. No goodbye. Left her badge on the desk smeared in something sticky and dark.

Mary Alice tried to act professional. But the fear chewed her bones.
Every shift, she passed the right wing and the humming grew louder. Sometimes the song looped. Sometimes it answered itself.
“Come home to me, my darling love…”
She began to hear it even when she wasn’t there. In her apartment. In the shower. In her sleep. It slithered under her skin and coiled around her spine.
Then came the day it changed. She heard the words. And she recognized them.
“Come home to me… where our love will never die…”
That was Anna’s song.
The one she wrote—only for Mary Alice.
No one else knew it.

The hallway stretched forever that day. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like flies.
Mary Alice pushed open Louise’s door.
The air inside was thick—not warm. Wet. Like stepping into a womb made of rot.
Louise sat in bed. Back turned. Head twitching to the rhythm of the song. Strings of saliva dangled from her chin. Her spine jutted out beneath her gown like knives.

“Louise…?” she whispered.
No reply. Just the melody. Louder. Clearer.
Mary Alice stepped closer. The shadows pulsed on the walls like lungs expanding.
She touched the woman’s hand.
It was ice cold and damp. Like a corpse underwater.
Louise turned.
Her face converted..
Into Anna's..
The flesh sagged. Her jaw hung unhinged. Her teeth were decayed and rotting, emitting a pungent and deathly odor. Anna's once pale blue eyes, now rimmed with a watery red. A bloody red. Anna's unhinged jaw hung open and words came out without moving her mouth.

“You left me,” she said. “Now I’ll never be alone again.”

Anna moved fast. Too fast.
She didn’t lunge. She floated—arms spreading, her mouth stretching to impossible width as a scream erupted like a thousand voices caught in a meat grinder.

Mary Alice tried to scream, but her throat collapsed inward. Blood bubbled from her ears.
Anna's hands clamped down on her head. Not her throat. Her skull.

And squeezed.

CRACK..

Mary Alice’s eyeballs ruptured. Blood sprayed in twin arcs across the bed. Her mouth twisted in a death scream as her skull caved in like a rotten pumpkin.

When they found her, her face was gone. Not scratched. Not torn. Gone. Peeled off, leaving only muscle and sockets.
Louise sat nearby, singing gently. Calmly. Sweetly.
“Come home to me, my darling love…”
They said it was an aneurysm. They said it was trauma-induced cardiac arrest. They said it wasn’t Louise.
But the nurses started hearing that same lullaby.
Even in the daylight.
And one by one, the staff in the right wing began turning in their resignation letters…
…or vanishing entirely.