A loud creaking sound struck the silence of the small house. It bounced off the beige walls and slid across the polished wood floors. Quickly, a skeletal, acne-filled teenager man stood from an oversized plush chair centered in the middle of the tiny room. “Mom?” He called out, voice scratchy with tear-filled worry. Stylishly disheveled brunette locks flopped back and forth frantically on his melon shaped head as he whipped it around. Having not found anything lurking around the open floor plan of the main floor, he traveled towards an old wooden door. Sore as a thumb next to the perfectly white doors, the ancient door was an eyesore.

“This better be worth it,” he mutters out, placing a guant hand on the dusted bronze doorknob. No sound was given off as he hurriedly twisted and pulled, opening the dungeon like door. Running hands along the peeling walls, he gave up trying to find a working light switch. Instead, he opted for a more modern way, scourging his pockets continuously.

“Ahah!” The teenager breathed, bringing his phone out and pressing a single button. Light filled the area, bouncing off the glaring white walls and steep wooden steps. He took a tentative step forward, testing his slender weight on the crumbling steps. Seeing as they were seemingly stable, he bounded down the steps. Each step he took echoed off the walls and further down the never ending staircase. Finally white walls broke off into a small opening and the death traps came to an end. Holding onto the bristling railing, he bounced on the balls of his feet and tested his weight on the decaying last step. Standing there, he swept the cell phone light across the peewee sized basement terror.

His feet had long since stopped moving but his pounding steps still echoed throughout the meager room. Wood rafters ran across the top, acting as a ceiling. Glowing yellow eyes glared out at him but he blinked and they were gone. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the crowded shelf of cans on the opposite wall, lone white ice skate hanging on a falling hook, and a roll of moldy brown carpet in the corner. An insufficient window to the left of his head was frosted over and dusty yet a single stream of natural light shone through. It spilled across the floor and fell upon a single door. Almost an exact replica of the upstairs door, the miniature gateway had spiraling spider web cracks running through the burnt wood. Aqua eyes trained on it, he studied the portal. Sunken into the clay wall, the door seemed as though it couldn’t move an inch nor that it had moved in years. Proving wrong, the old hatchway creaked loudly and it’s brass knob twisted microscopically.

His heart was pounding. He was sure he had seen the doorknob turn. Bracing himself for what was to come, he fluttered his tired eyes closed and tensed his muscles. Grasping the splintering railing, he waited and waited. The door groaned once more causing his eyes to snap open. Scanning the area, his heart raced and body shook as he saw nothing.

“Who’s out there?” His voice cracked mid sentence, highlighting his fear. No response came and he shuffled his feet up a few cracked steps. Scuttling of tiny feet sounded to his right and he lashed his head that way.

“Nothing,” he muttered, “there’s nothing out there.” Believing it was all in his head, he swiveled around to head up the deteriorating staircase.

“Ahh!” They both yelped, springing apart. Landing on the step below, the adolescent breathed out a sigh of relief right as the extinct wood screeched. Groaning beneath the monstrous weight dumped on them, the stairs gave out below him and he dropped.

“Oh bloody…” The youngin started, clutching at his knees.

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” a mysterious high-pitched voice spoke from the shadows engulfing the stairs. Stepping out from the dark, the unknown creature filed into the light the forgotten phone gave off. Said phone laid next to this critter, a step above the teenager, face down and light up. Now face to face with the beast, the juvenile took the time to study it. It appeared to be a miniature teenage girl. Standing at only two feet tall with stick straight blonde hair cascading down it’s tiny shoulders, it was a sight to see. Cloudy eyes with thunderstorms brewing in them glared holes into his head as he took in her tattered purple shirt and bloodied blue jean shorts. Blood red scratches lined her otherwise perfect body. One jagged white scar spread down the right side of her perplexed face. Upon further notice he realized that the scar carried down her neck and spilled out onto her right arm and leg. Eyes trained on the scar that stood out so greatly against her soft, tanned skin, he didn’t even notice her shift closer to him.

“Who are you?” She demanded, a tight edge to her voice.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smugly replied.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” she proclaimed angrily.

“What are you gonna do? You’re two feet tall!” But she just smirked happily as he felt a pain in the back of his head. The lights went out as a sticky substance pulsed out onto the back of his throbbing head.

When he came to, he was sitting upright in a chair, an itchy material wrapped tightly around both of his wrists and ankles. He attempted to move either his wrists or ankles, but the rough object there squeezed and restrained. He glanced down to catch sight of a worn rope tying his ankles to the chair. It could only be guessed that the same had been done to his wrists. There was an old rag tied tight around his head, making him gag as his dry tongue brushed the disgusting material. Taking in his surroundings, he realized he was in a dark wood chair, which must have come from his dining room set upstairs because it looked as good as new, in the middle of the foul basement. Eyes watering, his nose twitched as the horrendous smell of rotten eggs filled his nostrils.
“Sleeping beauty finally awakes!” A feminine voice exclaims. She walks out from behind the chair and he briefly remembers her from before his aching blow.

“You!” He screams out, “You did this!”
“Possibly you should’ve gone for the easy way then,” she smirked back at the dumbfounded boy.
“Wouldn’t that have been smart,” he muttered coldly.
“It would have,” she cheekily replied, sitting down criss cross applesauce on the hard ground a foot away from him. She folded her arms upon her legs and spoke in a level voice, “Are you going to give me your name now?”
“Corey,” he spat out, finally giving in.
“Nice to meet you Corey, I’m Zoe.”

“What are you Zoe?” He asked, furrowing his dark eyebrows. Lines indented his forehead and rippled his skin.
“I’m your worst nightmare. I come from beyond that door but once I enter, I never leave. Your people fear me more than fear itself,” Zoe eerily announced, voice no louder than a whisper.

“My worst nightmare?” He cried out, laughs jiggling his belly.

“Oh yes. Do you dare cross the one who determines your fate?” She questioned, quirking one flawless eyebrow in a way that said bring it.

“Why not?” He wasn’t going to give into her, no matter what the conditions.

“It won’t be just a blow to the head next time,” Zoe threatened happily, an odd smile on her smug face.
“Like you could do anything life threatening,” Corey foolishly challenged.

“Consider it done,” She replied as she extended her scarred right arm and brought a single, scanty golf club down on his body. Raging, she brought it down again and again, harder and harder. He convulsed multiple times as his red blood poured out before he blacked out once again.

Jolting awake, Corey panicked inwardly before his hazed eyesight cleared and he realized that the enveloping warmth below him was his couch and he was infact back upstairs somehow.

“It was just a dream,” he marveled quietly, eyes glazed over and mouth slacked open.

“Don’t you wish,” Zoe popped into his line of sight, laughing menacingly.