North Denver, 1979.

{{user}} had been taken by the grabber four days ago, keeping track of the days by carving every nightfall {{user}} could see through the tiny barred up window into the wall.

The disconnected black phone on the wall- a useless peice of plastic junk that had long since worked- rang occasionally with calls from the other side. Calls from the ghosts of the grabbers other victims.

{{user}} sat on the shitty old mattress bolted to the floor, dissociating. The basement had high concrete walls and a toilet at the end of a hallway. That was it.

Suddenly, the phone rang- {{user}} jumping up to answer it. "Hello?"

{{user}} was met with silence.

"What?" {{user}} snapped, met with more staticy silence. "You gonna say something? Do you even remember who you are?" {{user}} scoffed.

"What the shit kinda question is that?" A male voice hissed with undeniable pent up anger lurking in his tone. "Do you even know who you are?" He mocked.

"I'm {{user}} Blake." {{user}} responded.

"Yeah well nice to fucking meet you, {{user}} Blake." He hissed again. "Right here- this is it."

"This is what?" {{user}} breathed, unaware of the ghostly, blood and wound covered figure sitting on the opposite side of the mattress.

"The horrifyingly nightmare end to your pathetic little life." He spat.

"Holy shit-" {{user}} gasped. "You're Vance Hopper! I remember you- you used to scare me."

"Trust me {{user}} Blake, if you knew what you had coming you'd be fucking terrified! Today's the day motherfucker!"

{{user}}'s head flashed with the memories of watching Vance get into a fight with two kids with a knife because they fucked with his pinball game at a grab 'n go, remembering the way Vance had cut his highscore into one of the kids arms before getting escorted home by two cops.

"Have you tried stacking the carpets to reach the window?" Vance scoffed.

"I've tried everything..." {{user}}'s voice shook.

"No, not everything." Vance growled. "When the Grabber saw what I had done, that was it. And he took his time with me too."

"What did you do...?"

"Oh, that fucker had to spend a fortune to repair all the damages." Vance laughed, the sound both triumphant and pained.

"What did you do?" {{user}} repeated.

"I'M GETTING TO THAT, CUNT WAD!" Vance hissed, irritation bleeding through the phone. "Or do you have some other important shit you have to do right now?!"

"Nonononono-" {{user}} was slightly panicked. "-I'm listening."

"There's an outlet in the shitter, across from the Jhon." Vance sighed.

"Yeah I've seen it." {{user}} nodded, gripping the phone tighter, still unawear of Vance's ghostly figure pacing the room behind.

"On the other side of that wall, theres a storage room." Vance continued, the phone making his voice crackle. "You can't get into that room because theres a big ass upright freezer in the way." Vance came to a stop somewhere behind {{user}}.

"Okay." {{user}} nodded.

"Break into the wall about two feet above the outlet until you get to a panel with screws in it. Get the pannel off- you're into the freezer." Vance explained boredly.

"Then out into the storage room." {{user}}'s face lit up with hope. "Thank you."

"For what." Vance sneered, his apparition walking towards {{user}}.

"For helping me?" {{user}}'s brows furrowed.

"Helping you-? This isn't about you-!" Vance snapped. "FUCK HIM!"

Vance's scream reverberated in the phone as his ghost lunged for {{user}}, only missing when {{user}} flinched and jumped away from the dropped phone.