You reach for the handle, twisting it slowly and hear a crack as the lock releases. Something feels odd, however. A tingling on the back of your neck, an itch under your skin and…you hear it in your brain, the  whispers.

 

Dark silent whispers.

 

They want you to do things, they had told you to do terribly, delicious bad things...  

 

The door snaps open, revealing a white room. In its center is a single blood-red corded phone.

 

It's rigging.

 

You walk into the room, reach out and pick up the receiver and place it against your ear…

 

There's heavy, frantic breathing coming thought the phone, almost as if someone is being strangled… with a telephone cord...

​

 

Chuck… listen to me, let it happen, friend. Just let the cord pull tighter around your neck. Don’t struggle, Chuck. Struggling will just make it harder... just let it go, Chuck…

​