Dripping- A horror POV

Part 2

Beyond your door is what seems to be a void of vanta-black. The beam of your torch barely makes a dent in it. You were always scared of the dark as a child, but you know now that there's nothing to be afraid of.
There's a chill seeping through your night-clothes, wrapping itself around your bare ankles. The soft carpet feels damp, like walking on a bed of moss. It's just you, walking through darkness, guided by the loud dripping.
You come to a door after what seems like an hour of walking. You take the doorknob and twist it. It won't budge. You rattle the doorknob harder, it still not giving way, until you lean all of your weight into the door and you almost fall into the next room.