Google Trapped In Genocide Mode.

(Chapter 1)

August 2nd, 2016. Mark's POV

The white ceiling of my bedroom greeted me as I awoke. I looked over at the clock and sighed. I moved into my new house fifteen months ago. It's only been eleven since...Since he left.

I saw old friends, talked to new ones, and met someone special. But also disappointed two. Quite some time has passed since then. But It felt like yesterday.

I got up and went through my morning routine, not knowing what the day would hold. Like any other day, there was one thing that creeped me out every time I looked at it. My basement. Only Amy and I know about it. I've not shown anyone yet, and I didn't even show it in the video of my house tour either. Amy wouldn't even go near it. Something about the dark sinister staircase leading to a pitch-black door made my flight or fight kick in. I would think I was hearing voices whenever I was near it. I told myself I was just paranoid. I made sure it was locked every night before bed, glancing down the stairs from the top. I told myself it was just the horror games. Every morning I would find myself looking at the basement door. I stopped doing it after a while, realizing how weird it was.

After only a few weeks, I decided to contact the company that sold me the house. The door has been there for years. It was built only a few years after the rest of the building. "Why?" "It seems misplaced like it's not supposed to be there. Did anyone ever open it?" I placed the phone between my shoulder and ear. "Not that we know of, sir. But, when we sent down our men to look at it before it was sold, they had tried everything." I glanced at it, my hands clenched with anxiety. "We concluded it was just for looks."

It stayed that way. I felt fine when I slept. Amy kept me company sometimes. But then, Amy soon left. She said it didn't have anything to do with us or the house, it was nothing personal. She said the door seemed to unpleasantly linger in her head all day and she didn't wanna come back unless I moved. I didn't argue.

A few days after she left, Amy convinced me to show everyone. She thought it would be helpful. "My haunted basement" is what I called the video. I had sat down and talked about how I felt about it, how it was always this nagging thought in the back of my head. I talked about Amy's experience, and how Henry and Chica would sit in front of my door at night, either barking or sitting silently. Comments started coming in soon after I had posted it. You'd normally see them on any video featuring ghosts or anything closely strange, shocked, scared, some telling me to leave or to call an expert. They were sorry to hear Amy had left with Henry, hoping she wasn't gone permanently.

Today was a little different. When I realized I hadn't eaten yet, I left my studio. Cereal came to mind as a food choice. It's quick and I have things to do. With a swift pace, I moved through my small kitchen, glancing only at Chica occasionally. Her paws were crossed while she slept peacefully under the sun, I couldn't help but wonder what Amy was doing. A strange noise caught my attention right as I was about to grab a spoon from one of my drawers.

~What was that?~

I heard it again and I was able to identify it. A portal popped into my mind. I wasn't sure though.

The first thing I did was check the basement door. My steps were cautious, not even wanting to know if the door had been opened. As I squinted my eyes, I reached for the railing first, fingers slowly wrapping around it. However, I found it closed. My heart leaped with a sigh of relief. "Thank god." I found myself saying.

Next, I peeked into the hallway, which seemed pretty empty and very quiet at this moment. I shook off my discomfort and sat down to eat, telling myself it was probably nothing. I really didn't want to have an empty stomach for too long. The feeling was still lingering, having my hand move slower and more hesitant. While I was enjoying my breakfast, or at least tried to, that warping sound became present again and I heard what sounded like running. This time I didn't check the door. Doors don't make that sound. It happened again; this time I got up and started moving toward the hallway. Maybe it was my washing machine.