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Hometown ghost stories contains serious and often distressing events and is not intended for all audiences. Viewer discretion is

advised. I used to work in a nursing home for many years, and over the years I've met many

wonderful people, and some not so wonderful. We'll leave it at that. This particular story is about one of the Not So Wonderful

and will haunt me for the rest of my life. Back in the early 1990s, I had a patient brought in by the

state. We'll call him Steve, although that's not his real name. Steve had no family left and had spent many years in prison for crimes

so disturbing I won't speak of them. Steve, who was an elderly man at this point, had been released

from prison and sent to the nursing home to live out the rest of his days. We obviously weren't

supposed to judge anyone despite what they had done in their past,

so Steve was treated just like the rest, and to be honest, he didn't seem all that bad,

in spite of the person we all knew he used to be.

He was polite to us, and usually just kept to himself.

Nobody ever came to visit him, which is usually

a sad thing to witness in this line of work, but remembering his background, any would-be sympathy

would elude me. After about a month of him being a patient with us, something happened that I

can't forget, no matter how hard I try. I was at my station

at around 11.30 p.m. I had the overnight shift with two other nurses on my wing. Both my other

colleagues were off doing various tasks in different parts of the wing, and I was alone at the

nurse's station behind the desk, admittedly overtired and zoning

out. Just as I was about to nod off, I was jolted awake by a scream. I jumped up from behind

the desk and sprinted towards the sound. It was a man's scream and it happened again as I rounded

...