In the heart of Malaysia, nestled amidst the bustling city, stood a renowned psychological medical center known for its innovative approaches to mental health care. Within its pristine white walls, patients sought solace and guidance from the center's esteemed staff, including one particularly famous doctor named Nur.

The gentle chime of the doorbell echoed through the room, signaling the arrival of a visitor. The door creaked open, revealing a young girl who couldn't have been much older than eighteen. Her eyes swept across the room, taking in the pristine white walls and tiles, the desk with its two swiveling chairs, and the neatly made bed adorned with crisp sheets and pillows. A potted plant nestled in the corner, its white pot blending seamlessly with the room's decor.

The girl hesitated, clutching her backpack tightly to her chest as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Seated at the desk was a woman, her warm smile instantly putting the girl at ease.

"Hi," the woman greeted, her smile bright and welcoming.

"Hi," the girl replied, her nervousness dissipating under the woman's kind gaze.

"What's your name?" the woman inquired gently. But the girl shook her head, silently expressing her desire to remain anonymous.

"So you want to stay anonymous?" the woman deduced, adjusting her spectacles in her own unique way. The girl nodded in confirmation.

"What seems to be the problem?" the woman asked, her tone soft and understanding.

The girl hesitated before confessing, her words tinged with uncertainty. "I don't like dogs," she began. "I enjoy it when they are hurt or screaming in pain because it just feels good to be. I don't want to be the one giving the pain, but when the dogs are in pain, I don't stand up to help them. Their cries seem amusing to me. Is there something wrong with me?"

The woman listened attentively, her expression thoughtful. "Why do you think something is wrong with you?" she countered gently.

"Because my friends call me sick. They say I'm weird and that I am not human," the girl admitted, her voice laced with sadness.

The woman's hands found the girl's, offering warmth and reassurance. "Sweetheart," she began, her voice gentle yet firm. "Whatever a person finds pleasure in is something that is made for pleasure for that person. The problem is what society normalizes."

Standing up, the woman approached the girl, her eyes locking onto hers with a captivating intensity. "How many of your friends are okay with eating chicken?" she asked, shifting the conversation.

The girl pondered the question before responding tentatively. "Hm...7 out of 10, I suppose."

"And how many sympathize towards the chicken?" the woman pressed further.

"1...?" the girl ventured, uncertainty coloring her tone.

"That one person is also the one who doesn't eat it, isn't that right?" the woman pointed out.

"Yeah..." the girl acknowledged, a flicker of understanding lighting up her eyes.

"Sweety, what a person normalizes for themselves is the standard they run by. The people who eat chicken take it to be normal. The one who doesn't, though, might see them as 'weird'. The fact that everyone tries to sit by these standards is the problem. You don't have to sit by th norms," the woman reassured.

With a nod of agreement, the girl listened intently as the woman offered her a solution.

"Whatever seems less pleasing to you is what is normalized by your friends. Try it. Go with the least interesting options. And meet me again tomorrow."

The girl nodded yet again and exited the room, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

As the door clicked shut behind her, the woman settled back into her chair, a contemplative expression gracing her features as she swiveled idly, a pen twirling between her fingers.

***

The psychological medical center stood as a colossal structure amidst the urban sprawl, its towering presence dominating the skyline. With its numerous floors and a multitude of doctors, it served as a beacon of hope for those seeking solace and assistance with their mental health struggles. Yet, behind the facade of professionalism and expertise, there existed a hidden world of secrets and mysteries.

Among the labyrinthine corridors and bustling hallways of the center, a diverse array of staff members could be found. Many of these individuals were students hailing from a nearby college, drawn to the center by the promise of gaining valuable experience and earning some much-needed income to support their studies. They were the lifeblood of the institution, tirelessly dedicating themselves to the well-being of their patients while simultaneously striving to carve out a future for themselves in the field of psychology.

In the unlit recesses of the center, tucked away from the prying eyes of the public, lay the backroom—a place shrouded in darkness and filled with the remnants of days gone by. It was here that forgotten items found their final resting place, relegated to the shadows by the passage of time. Every weekend, two staff members were tasked with the solemn duty of tending to this neglected space, sorting through the debris and disposing of that which was no longer needed.

On this particular Sunday, it was Aishah and Melacca who found themselves assigned to the backroom duties. Clad in their distinctive pink uniforms—a testament to their affiliation with the center—they set about their task with a sense of purpose, pushing a metallic cart laden with discarded items into the dimly lit chamber.

As they worked, their conversation drifted to the enigmatic figure of one of the center's psychologists—a woman whose unconventional methods and striking appearance had captured their attention.

"She is so different," remarked one of the staff members, her voice filled with a mixture of admiration and intrigue.

"I know," agreed her companion, nodding in solemn agreement.

They spoke of the psychologist's unique approach to patient care, marveling at her ability to connect with those under her care in ways that seemed almost otherworldly.

"But isn't she so interesting as well?" mused one of the staff members. "I mean, her ways might be weird to understand, but she is so charming."

"Exactly," replied her companion, a note of admiration evident in her voice. "Her smile is beautiful. And her looks... wow. She is just too beautiful."

Their conversation soon turned to the psychologist's physical appearance, with both women expressing admiration for her slender waistline and long, graceful legs.

"She is the prettiest woman in this entire place," they agreed unanimously, their voices reverberating softly in the dimly lit confines of the backroom.

Yet, as they continued their conversation, a sense of unease began to creep into the air, overshadowing their lighthearted banter. A faint creak echoed through the room, cutting through the silence like a knife. The two women fell silent, their eyes widening in apprehension as they exchanged uneasy glances.

In the darkness of the backroom, where shadows danced like specters in the night, a feeling of foreboding hung heavy in the air.

The darkness of the backroom enveloped Aishah and Melacca like a suffocating shroud, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance with malevolent intent. As they searched for the source of the noise that had disturbed their tranquility, a sense of unease settled over them, gnawing at the edges of their consciousness like a ravenous beast.

"What's that noise?" Melacca's voice trembled with apprehension as she peered into the inky blackness, her eyes wide with fear.

Unfazed by her friend's unease, Aishah retrieved her phone and activated its flashlight, illuminating the darkness with a feeble beam of light. With cautious steps, she ventured further into the room, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat of dread. Yet, despite her efforts, nothing out of the ordinary met her searching gaze.

"It's nothing, Melacca," Aishah reassured her friend, her voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "Maybe the old wood shifted."

Relieved by her own words, she breathed a sigh of relief, her tension easing slightly as she allowed herself to relax. But her relief was short-lived, for when she turned to address Melacca, she found herself standing alone in the darkness.

"Melacca? Did you leave?" Aishah's voice echoed through the empty expanse of the room, tinged with concern. But there was no reply, save for the oppressive silence that seemed to suffocate the air around her.

With a resigned sigh, Aishah made her way towards the main door, her footsteps echoing ominously in the stillness of the room. Yet, as she moved, her feet collided with something solid, sending it tumbling to the ground with a clatter.

Beneath the feeble glow of her phone's light, Aishah's eyes fell upon a metal nameplate, its silver lining gleaming dully in the darkness. With trembling hands, she reached out to retrieve it, her heart hammering in her chest like a prisoner desperate for escape.

But as she crouched to pick up the fallen object, a cold, wet sensation brushed against her bare neck, sending shivers cascading down her spine like icy tendrils of fear. With a trembling hand, she raised her phone, casting its light upwards to reveal a sight that would haunt her nightmares for eternity.

In the flickering light of her phone's flashlight, Aishah beheld a grotesque tableau of horror-four severed limbs, a head, and an upper body with half of a pink frock, suspended from the ceiling by thick ropes that groaned with the weight of their burden. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sickly sweet scent of blood that permeated the room like a miasma of despair.

Melacca. Her friend, her companion, now nothing more than a macabre puppet, her lifeless body swaying gently in the darkness like a grotesque marionette. Aishah's scream died in her throat, choked off by the overwhelming tide of terror that threatened to consume her whole.

She wanted to run, to flee from this nightmare come to life, but her legs refused to obey her commands, rooted to the spot as if held in place by unseen hands. Her mind reeled, unable to comprehend the horrors that lay before her, and for a fleeting moment, the world around her seemed to dissolve into a maelstrom of madness and despair.

When she finally came to herself, Aishah found herself kneeling on the blood-soaked floor, her hands trembling uncontrollably at her sides. Her phone lay forgotten at her feet, its feeble light casting long, distorted shadows that danced mockingly across the walls. And above her, the lifeless form of her friend swayed gently in the darkness.

***

As the day drew to a close, Tenuk and Iyaan were busy wrapping up their tasks in the storage room. Tenuk, with his black hair partially covering his right eye, gazed into space, his brown eyes filled with a hint of longing. He sighed, his thin lips releasing a soft whisper. "End of the month. I hope the salary is transferred to our accounts."

Iyaan, with his chiseled features and shoulder-length brown hair, nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I wish they'd raise our salaries." His black, glossy eyes sparkled with a hint of tiredness and defeat. He placed the packed boxes on a metal cart, his slender yet sturdy limbs moving with a fluid grace.

Together, the two friends pushed the cart towards the backroom, their footsteps echoing through the dimly lit corridor. Iyaan turned the key anti-clockwise and unlocked the door, revealing a room filled with rows of shelves and boxes. Tenuk pushed the cart inside, his eyes scanning the space as he searched for a spot to place the boxes.

As Tenuk and Iyaan pushed the cart further into the dimly lit backroom, their attention was drawn to an obstruction that halted their progress. With a sudden jolt, the front wheels of the cart collided with an unseen object, causing the cart to topple onto its side. Tenuk, caught off guard by the sudden movement, stumbled backwards, but was swiftly caught by Iyaan's firm grip on his shoulders.

"Are you okay?" Iyaan inquired, concern evident in his voice as he steadied Tenuk. Tenuk nodded in response, his expression a mixture of relief and bewilderment at the unexpected turn of events. Taking a moment to collect himself, he straightened up and peered curiously at the obstacle before them.

"What was that?" Tenuk wondered aloud, his brow furrowed in confusion as he surveyed the scene.

"I don't know. Help me lift this up," Iyaan replied, his tone determined as he motioned towards the overturned cart. Working together, they carefully lifted the cart and placed the scattered boxes back onto its surface. With a concerted effort, they managed to right the cart, the metallic clatter of the wheels echoing in the silent room.

Iyaan pushed the cart forward, but to their dismay, the wheels refused to budge, as if held back by an invisible force. With a resigned sigh, Iyaan stepped into the room, Tenuk following closely behind. The dim light cast long shadows across the floor, obscuring the source of the obstruction that had impeded their progress.

Aishah lay motionless on the floor, her lifeless form casting a haunting shadow over the room. The boys stood frozen in shock, their minds unable to comprehend the grisly scene before them. Iyaan swallowed hard, his throat dry with fear, while Tenuk collapsed to the floor, overcome by a wave of terror. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the blood that pooled beneath Aishah's body.

Crawling back against the wall, Tenuk buried his face in his hands, his body shaking uncontrollably. Iyaan, meanwhile, knelt beside Aishah, his hands reached out to touch her cold, lifeless hand. The chill that ran through his fingertips sent shivers down his spine, confirming the grim reality of her demise. With a heavy heart, he turned to face Tenuk, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"Don't scream, 'Kay?" Iyaan whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of their pounding hearts.

"Wh-what? Let's call for help, lyaan. It's happening again-" Tenuk stammered, his voice trembling with fear.

"Wait," Iyaan interrupted, his gaze fixed on the pool of blood that surrounded Aishah's body. Despite the absence of any visible wounds, the sheer volume of blood defied explanation. It was as though her very essence had been drained from her, leaving behind only a lifeless shell.

As lyaan's eyes swept upwards, they fell upon the gruesome sight that hung from the rafters above. Dangling limbs, severed head, and a mutilated torso swayed gently in the dim light, a macabre display of carnage that defied comprehension. Among the grotesque tableau, the face of Melacca twisted in a silent scream, her features contorted in agony.

Rigor mortis had set in before her body was suspended, freezing her expression in a grotesque parody of pain. Tenuk, unable to tear his gaze away from the horrifying spectacle, felt Iyaan's hands clamp down over his eyes, shielding him from the full horror of the scene.

"No. Don't," Iyaan murmured, his voice strained with emotion.

Tenuk nodded wordlessly, his body racked with sobs as he curled into a ball on the floor. lyaan reached for his phone, his fingers fumbling with the buttons as he dialed for help for he was far too concerned about Tenuk right now. In the eerie silence of the backroom, the echoes of Tenuk's terror reverberated off the walls, a chilling reminder of the horrors that lurked within.

***

The entire staff of the psychological medical center, from receptionists to psychologists, and even the gatekeeper, gathered in front of the backroom, drawn by the urgency in lyaan's shaken voice. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead as he clutched onto Tenuk's trembling shoulders, his eyes wide with fear.

"What's wrong?" the receptionist, Aadam, asked, his handsome features etched with concern.

Iyaan shook his head, his gaze fixed on the metal cart blocking their view. With a trembling hand, he pointed towards the grisly scene unfolding behind it. Aadam followed his gesture and stepped forward, pushing the cart aside to reveal the lifeless form of Aishah lying on the floor.

Kneeling beside her, Aadam reached out to touch her cold, still body, confirming the grim reality of her death. Her wide-open eyes stared blankly into the void, their unseeing gaze sending shivers down his spine. As he looked up, his eyes met the horrifying sight of the severed limbs dangling from the rafters above.

The gruesome tableau left him more confused than shocked, his mind struggling to comprehend the sheer brutality of the scene before him. With a silent nod, he signaled to lyaan, the only one among them who seemed composed enough to assist him. Climbing a ladder that had been hastily positioned beneath the dangling parts, lyaan began the grim task of unloading them one by one, lowering them down rope by rope until they lay scattered on the floor below.

Despite his outward calm, Aadam hesitated to touch the dismembered anatomy, his hands trembling with revulsion and disbelief. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood, as the staff stood in stunned silence, grappling with the horror of what they had just witnessed.

The piercing scream of one of the female staff members shattered the eerie silence of the backroom, its echoes reverberating throughout the entire building and beyond. In that moment, Nur stepped into the scene.

"What's going on?" she demanded, her voice calm yet commanding.

The terrified staff member, still trembling from her ordeal, struggled to form coherent words amidst her sobs. "There... there... Melacca... Aishah... they're..." she managed to stammer out, her breath hitching with each hiccup.

With practiced ease, Nur approached the distressed woman, enveloping her in a comforting embrace. She gently patted her back, her touch soothing and maternal. "There, there, it's okay," she murmured softly, her voice a soothing balm in the midst of turmoil.

Turning her attention to Aadam, who stood nearby, Nur's expression remained composed, though concern flickered in her eyes. "What's going on?" she inquired, her tone measured yet intent.

Aadam hesitated for a moment before responding, his gaze meeting Nur's with a mixture of relief and apprehension. "Oh, Nur, hi," he greeted her, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Good morning," Nur replied, her tone serene despite the grim circumstances.

"'Morning. These girls are..." Aadam began, his words trailing off as he struggled to find the right words to convey the horror of the scene before them.

"Dead?" Nur interjected, her eyes scanning the room with a discerning gaze.

Surprised by her astuteness, Aadam nodded, his expression grim. "Huh? Yeah... yeah. They are..." he confirmed, his voice tinged with resignation.

Nur's intuition seemed to guide her as she pieced together the timeline of events. "I see. Seems to me like it happened at least some days back," she mused, her mind already working to unravel the mystery.

Realization dawned on Aadam's face as he recalled the girls' weekend schedule. "They came here on Sunday night last week," he admitted, a note of guilt creeping into his voice.

Nur's brow furrowed slightly as she processed this information. "And no one noticed they were not around?" she questioned, her tone tinged with incredulity.

"They're part-timers, Nur. They only work on weekends," Aadam explained, his voice tinged with remorse.

Nur nodded thoughtfully, her mind racing with possibilities. "Is that so... call the police," she instructed, her voice firm and decisive.

Aadam nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on Nur for a moment before he turned to carry out her orders. As he reached for the phone, the gravity of the situation sank in, casting a somber pall over the room.

*3300 words*