Descriptive Writing Asylum

As I pull up the old degraded driveway, the old, abandoned asylum stands in front of me. I stop my car and take a deep breath before getting out. I slide out of the car, and walk up to the large wooden pine door. I take another deep breath, looking for fresh air, but the musty odor of the decaying asylum suffocates me.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I place my hands on the door, waiting to push it open. The old door feels rough under my soft hands. As I tough the door, I imagine all of the patients that had once touched this door to enter the asylum, and never come back out. I imagine people bringing their loved ones here, telling them that they will be out before they know it, then leaving, never to come back. How many people waited
At first the door doesn't give way, so I have to use more force. All at once, the heavy door swings open. The hinges scream as the door slowly moves for the first time in years. Thick dust rains down to the floor from the door disturbing it. I have to wait for the dust cloud to lighten up before being able to see inside. As the thick dust becomes thinner, I start to see the long stretch of the corridor.
I walk into the old building, ad the wooden boards beneath my feet hiss and bend as if they are going to snap any minute. As I walk farther down the colorless corridor, the darkness of the building seems to become thick. There are no windows to give light to this long hall, so I have to make the treacherous walk in the dark.
I look at the walls and notice the once, white walls are now brown, covered in dust. The wall has holes in at as if someone was looking for a way out, but couldn't find one. As I study the wall closure, I notice hand prints on the wall. It is as if the building is trying to confirm my thoughts of someone being locked inside this asylum, unable to find their way
I slowly make my way up the stairs. Each step hisses and moans under my weight as I climb higher and higher. After a slow and cautious five minutes, I'm at the top of the narrow, degraded staircase.
I stare down at the staircase, wondering how I'm going to get back down them later. The stairs look longer now, almost as if they grew, or I shrunk. As I stare down the steps, I hear a small child giggling behind me. I turn around quickly, but there is no one there. The hairs on the back of my neck started to stand up, and I started to get goosebumps.
I stare towards the direction the giggle came from, unsure what to do. As I start to walk towards the direction of the giggle, I hear a loud thud coming from downstairs. I quickly turn around and look down the steps. All I see is darkness now, when before I was able to see the faint light of the door being open. Chills run through my body as I realize what this means. The front door, the only exit, has closed…
I stare down the steps in horror, trying to think how I'm going to get out of this old building. My mind is becoming frantic, and I can no longer think straight. I don't know what to do at this point. Do I continue to look for what I came here for or do I try to make my way down the steps and leave the