Amber stood at the front of the lecture theater. Her hands trembling, sifting through the heap of notes she prepared for her presentation. Her peers continued to pour into the enormous room, sitting and chatting with their friends or looking at their phones in boredom. Amber took a deep breath and waited for the silence. Her professor stood beside her, silencing the hum of the room, and signaled her to begin the presentation. Amber nodded, a bead of sweat slowly falling from her brow. Her face glowed red and the room’s silence became deafening. 

“Amber? You may begin.” Urged her professor.

The room erupted in whispers, the hum returning. Amber looked up and saw the stares. She felt the knot in her throat tighten. She fumbled with the papers on the desk and apologized under her breath. 

‘I’m losing time.’ She thought, her fear grabbing at her heart and pushing it further and further upwards. She felt tears burn in her eyes. The hum grew louder, the stares sharper, the fear overwhelming. Amber closed her eyes, shaking her head, and turned to leave the room. As she turned, she heard her professor shout once more for her to begin the presentation, but Amber grabbed the door handle and yanked hard. The door opened and she saw nothing. Only a dark abyss. 

Suddenly, the overwhelming stares and whispers disappeared. Silence. She could only hear the ring in her ears. Amber looked around, terrified. She stepped back into the lecture theater and shut the door. But when she turned, she was alone. Amber gasped. “What the fuck?” She whispered. She leaned on the wall and slid down, gripping her head in confusion. “Where…what? What the fuck? How did this-?”

Amber took a few deep breaths before standing and grabbing her phone from her jacket pocket. But, it was dead. No amount of button pressing, smacking, or yelling could turn it on. Amber threw her phone at the window, but it only bounced back, like jello. She began throwing chairs, computers, bags, everything movable in her way. She screamed. Begging for help. Not understanding where everyone went or what was happening to her. She ran to the door, threw it open once again, closed her eyes, and ran into the abyss. She ran full speed without looking, her ears ringing in the silence, her hands shaking with adrenaline and fear. 

Finally she stopped, hands on her knees and out of breath. Sweat trickled from her hairline and fell below. Amber hesitated before opening her eyes. She was no longer enveloped in darkness. She was in her childhood home. “Ok, what is happening?” She questioned, exasperated. She slowly walked around the house, trying to be quiet. “I’m going insane.” She said into the empty house. “I’m actually going insane.” she laughed. “I’m fucking insane!” She shouted, laughing and gripping her hair. It felt like the world had erased human existence and she was the only one left, doomed with solitude.

Amber continued to laugh until tears fell from her eyes. “Get a grip, Jesus Christ.” She harshly whispered to herself. She slapped herself in the side of the head. She stood and glanced into the hallway. She saw something. “Hey!” She stood and ran into the hallway. The thing disappeared into a room to the left. “Hey! Stop!” Amber screamed, chasing the thing she saw. She ran to the door of the room which she saw the thing run into. The bathroom. 

She scanned the shoebox of a bathroom. Only a small sink, a medicine cabinet above, a toilet opposite, and only a shower curtain beside the toilet. She would have had to shimmy her way between the toilet and sink to reach the shower. The lighting was drab, a single white light situated at the top of the medicine cabinet. The lighting illuminated the pure white bathroom. It felt as though she had entered a hospital rather than her childhood bathroom. Amber ignored her unfamiliar surroundings, hoping to find the thing she saw before. She stepped into the room. Suddenly everything went cold. It was as though she stepped into a shack with no heating in the middle of Alaskan winter. She could see her breath and the cold nipping at her face and hands. She zipped up her jacket and placed her full body into the bathroom. 

She went to open the cabinet, looking into the mirror and saw the shower curtain move behind her. She whipped her head around and stared. The curtain danced as though someone had quickly shut it. For some reason, she felt no fear, only curiosity. The curtain was barely an arms-length away from her position in front of the sink, so she only turned to face the curtain. She reached out and grabbed the curtain’s edge. She took a breath and yanked it open. Nothing. She sighed, mildly relieved that nothing jumped out at her. But, her relief was short-lived. 

The bathroom door slammed shut and the lock turned. “No!” she shouted and shot her hands forward, fumbling with the door handle and the lock. Useless. “Shit. Shit. Shit!” She screamed, slamming her hands into the door. She kicked and punched the seemingly flimsy door, but it did not budge. Not even for a moment. 

Amber sat on the toilet. Fear began to creep back into her heart. She felt it grabbing at her heart, then filling her lungs, and tunneling up her throat. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” She screamed, hitting the sides of her head, the toilet, and the sink. Finally she stood and punched the mirror, allowing it to shatter and split her hand open. Blood and glass fell into the porcelain sink, tainting the white, sterile environment. She screamed at her own reflection, or whatever she could see with what was left of the mirror. 

“Quiet.” 

Amber went quiet. She turned quickly, trying to find who whispered in her ear. “Who’s there?” She asked. Silence. “Please! Help me! I don’t know where I am!” She shouted, begging for answers, seeking comfort. 

“You’re home.” The voice whispered. Amber felt hot breath on her ear. She swatted in the direction of the voice, but it was empty space. Amber felt her fear rising further and further. She again tried to open the door, to no avail. “I’m not home. This isn’t my home!” She screamed. 

The door flew open and a gust of icy wind blew her back. Amber lost her balance and teetered back into the toilet, falling over it and into the shower. She hit her head and felt warm blood drip from the wound. The gust of wind whistled and shook the whole room. Amber curled into a ball and waited for everything to stop. The only thing she could do was wait. Suddenly, it all went quiet. She remained still. 

The light flickered. On. Off. On. Off. She slowly unwrapped her arms from her head and looked up. She saw the light continue to flicker. She saw that the room changed from pure white to blue-green. Everything was dirty. Run-down. The floor was covered in grime. The ceiling and walls were filled with black-mold. The shower curtain was nearly gone, only strips of cloth left, seemingly from tears. The toilet and the sink were overflowing with a black tar, oozing onto the floor. The showerhead was broken, dripping what was hopefully just water, onto the tiled floor and Amber herself. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Amber sat up, looking around wide-eyed, covering her nose and mouth. She gagged. “God what is that?” The smell was indescribable. Then she saw the door. It stood wide open. But, the black abyss returned. Just like in the lecture hall. “Hello!” She shouted. Echoes. Loud echoes. She covered her ears as her voice rang back over and over. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth. Her eardrums felt like they would burst. Silence. The lights stopped flickering. Amber was breathing hard and slowly dropped her hands. She looked up and saw it. Eyes. She wasn’t really sure what it was, really. 

She saw a pointed, white head appear on the side of the doorway. You could see just below the eyes. Those black eyes. If it weren’t for the contrasting colors, the Thing could have been mistaken for the abyss. But she saw it. The eyes were pure black. The head was white, but not as pure as the bathroom once was. The head had angry red cracks all over, disappearing at the back and connecting to the eyes. The red cracks around the eyes became thinner, more delicate, but bloodier.

It stared and stared. Not moving. Amber held her breath, not being able to process anything that has happened in the past, what felt like, eternity. Nothing happened. No noise, no movement. Only staring. She felt as though the moment she looked away, it would pounce. It had not blinked once since appearing in the doorway. Then, the lights flickered. Off. For a moment, she was in the abyss, unable to see or hear anything. On. Amber felt her heart stop. It grew closer. 

The Thing had its whole head in the doorway, still sideways, as though it was lying on its side to look into the bathroom. It had no nose, only two small holes. Similar to the eyes, the red cracks appeared to connect at the nose, or nostrils, or whatever they were. And the mouth appeared to be a long slit going from one end of its head to the other, sewn shut. It did not move, nor blink. Only staring at Amber. Her breath grew shaky, her hands trembling. She began to scoot backwards, trying to get further from the thing, but suddenly the lights went out. She screamed, throwing her hands over her face. The lights came on. It was gone.