The door was a plain white, made of soft, oak wood that had been worn out. By the time I got to the floor below me, the screams had stopped. I questioned whether I should, being the brave person I am, knock on the door, or make my way back upstairs to stare into space once more. But, alas, my hand had been, what felt like forcefully, pulled close to the door, knocking the ''well-known'' three times. No answer. Again, I knocked, with a worried expression on my face - they had never taken so long to answer the door, they were very welcoming people who didn't like to make people wait.
'Hello?' I asked, waiting for a response. 'Is anyone home?'
I waited a bit longer, still no response. My hand was then dragged to the door-handle, where the door had been left unlocked. First mistake. I opened the door, without an inch of fear in my body, I walked in and looked forward. Nothing, it was an empty house. Surely, if they had left the door unlocked, they wouldn't mind me checking in on them, right? I was never the one to worry for people, but I'd find it psychotic if you wouldn't be worrying after hearing screams like I heard. Screams, as if someone was being tortured, starting off with pulling their nails off to hammering nails into their stomach, making their way around the body then being recklessly pulled out one by one. One after the other, never ending pain.
I didn't want to step inside any further than I had to, so calling the police would be the best idea for me. Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I walked out of the clean, stainless apartment and headed my way back upstairs, on the phone to the police.
'I'll check again tomorrow.' I told myself.
YOU ARE READING
Downstairs
HorrorWhen you wake up, you don't expect much. You feel tired, and your eyes wont budge to let you open them. Would you wake up if you were forced to? Life for some may be easy, not so for others. Misfortunes happen a lot of the time, so I wouldn't be su...
