The sound of iron scraping against stone filled the dimly lit room. Albert's wrists were torn raw where the handcuffs bit into his flesh, his arms stretched cruelly above his head and chained to a damp, mold-ridden wall. His body was broken, beaten black and blue; blood caked his lips, bruises painted his ribs, and every breath came as a shudder of agony.
His head sagged forward. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt and dried blood.
Why did I come here? he thought, despair carving itself into his soul. Why didn't I just stay away?
Regret clawed at his chest. His voice cracked as he whispered into the shadows, "I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have come…"
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Measured.
They echoed through the long corridor beyond the steel door. The rhythm was unnerving—thud, thud, thud—until suddenly, the man outside stumbled. Something metallic clattered to the floor. A curse hissed in the dark.
Albert's eyes widened. His body tensed against the chains.
The lock on the door clicked. The hinges groaned as it opened.
A figure stepped in.
Albert squinted through the gloom. The man's shadow stretched across the floor, long and crooked, carrying something heavy in his hands. He didn't speak. He only walked closer… and closer.
Albert's trembling eyes dropped to what the man was holding.
It was a head.
A severed head.
And not just anyone's—her head.
Albert's Dear's head his girlfriend.
Albert froze, his mind ripping apart at the seams. The delicate features, the soft hair, the lips he once kissed—all twisted into a grotesque mask of lifeless horror. His girlfriend's eyes stared blankly into his, glassy and drenched in death.
"No…" Albert croaked. His voice broke. "No! No, no, no!"
The man seized Albert by the jaw.
Albert thrashed wildly, but the chains bit deeper into his wrists, tearing skin.
"Open."
The word came like a command from Hell itself.
Albert screamed as the man pried his jaw wider—so wide he felt the bones straining to shatter. Pain erupted through his skull, his cries muffled by the brute force of the grip.
And then—
The man shoved the severed head toward his mouth.
Albert gagged, choked, his throat convulsing in terror. The head pressed against his teeth, blood dripping down his chin, her hair sticking to his face like spider silk. His cries grew strangled, primal, animalistic.
With one sickening crack, his jaw broke.
The scream that followed wasn't human.
"Aaahahaaaaaaaaa it hurts!!!! It hurts !!!! Aaahahaaaa"
---
Flashback.
A week earlier, Albert was just another ordinary man.
He lived a mundane life in Tokyo, working a bland 9–5 sales job. His mornings were simple: frying omelets, toasting bread, sipping cheap coffee, and rushing to the metro with half a tie hanging around his neck. The subway rides were crowded, suffocating, yet strangely comforting in their normalcy.
His world was small, predictable.
At the office, his colleagues were more than just co-workers—they were his old college friends, the only thing that gave his days color.
There was Martin—loud, muscular, a giant of a man with a booming laugh and a heart that was just as big. Always overflowing with energy, he had the annoying habit of putting Albert in playful shoulder locks, wrestling him mid-break just to hear everyone laugh.
Then Mary—the sweet, cheerful girl who somehow tolerated Martin's antics and followed him around like a stubborn shadow.
Johnson—the sharpest among them, thin, glasses always slipping down his nose, but undeniably respected. Even Martin, who rarely took anything seriously, listened when Johnson spoke.
And finally—Angelina.
The quiet one. The one Albert's heart always tripped over. She rarely spoke more than a few words to him, but her silence was a language he had learned to admire. He loved her presence—the way her hair fell just enough to hide her eyes, the faint smile she gave when she caught him looking. What he didn't know was that she, too, carried the same secret ache for him.
Their daily routine was simple: work, complain about work, laugh in the cafeteria, and forget, for a moment, how boring adulthood really was.
But one evening changed everything.
During lunch, Johnson suggested they celebrate their one-year anniversary at the company with a night out. The others agreed immediately.
By nightfall, the group was gathered in a smoky Japanese restaurant. Bottles of sake and glasses of beer piled high on the table. Laughter roared louder than the clatter of dishes.
Martin drank until he could barely stand, collapsing against Albert's shoulder with a grin so wide it seemed to split his face. Mary busied herself trying to steady him, wiping vomit off his shirt with both disgust and devotion.
Meanwhile, Albert and Angelina found themselves walking side by side as they left the restaurant. The neon lights painted their faces, the night air crisp against their flushed cheeks.
"That was… a good night," Albert said softly, afraid to ruin the fragile moment.
"Yes," Angelina replied, her voice barely louder than the city hum.
They shared a silence, heavy and sweet.
"Do you… remember college?"Albert asked. "When we used to do this all the time? Just… laugh. Like nothing else mattered."
She chuckled faintly. "Yes. I remember."
For a fleeting second, their eyes locked.
And then—both spoke at once:
"Are you free tomorrow?"
The words hung between them.
Both flushed crimson. Angelina blinked, startled. "Why? What is it?"
Albert stammered, shaking his head. "N-Nothing. Forget it."
But the warmth lingered.
Just then, Johnson walked out after paying the bill, adjusting his glasses. The air around them shifted.
Because suddenly—
Their phones vibrated.
All at once.
The group froze.
Albert pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen glowing in the dark. A new notification had appeared—one not from any app he recognized. It was a Google Maps pin.
An address.
A place.
An abandoned building, far outside the city.
They all looked at each other. Confusion turned to dread.
And then Martin dropped to his knees.
His massive hands clutched his head. His voice cracked like shattered glass.
"No… No, no, no! This can't be happening!" His screams ripped through the quiet street. "It's HIM! He's coming for us! We're going to pay… we're all going to pay! Reality… reality has broken open! We're finished—WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"
His wails echoed down the flickering streetlamps.
Mary backed away, pale as snow. Angelina's lips trembled, her eyes wide in horror. Johnson's face was stone, but his shaking hands betrayed him.
Albert stood frozen, heart hammering, staring at the cursed address glowing on his phone screen.
Something had shifted. Something unseen had awakened.
And in that moment, they all understood—
The night had only just begun
----The End----
What was Martin talking about?
Who is coming?
What does the realities have opened mean?
What is at the building?