a low grunt escaped Finney as he stood up, cupping his nose only to see more blood staining his own hands, which only made his frustration grow even more. the events of last night replayed in his mind.

after his futile attempt to escape, he remembers grabber punching him right in the nose, that must be why there's blood. this is almost the third time he's tried to escape and something always goes wrong, it's as if luck isn't on his side; not to mention the ghosts of the boys grabber killed who keep calling him on that useless black phone.

“son of a bitch..” finney muttered as he watched the blood stain his hand, that was until the black phone started ringing, making him turn around and let out a low groan. “no.” he muttered, watching the phone ring some more, making him stand up in frustration. he grunted but the phone only kept ringing even more. “dammit...” he stood up, picking up the phone and putting it to his ear.

“what?” he muttered, but got no response. “are you going to say something?” finney muttered harshly, but only continued to hear the sound of noise. “do you even know who you are?” he asked, given the fact that all the ghosts that had called him so far had never remembered who they really were. and certainly, sometimes it was annoying. he didn't get an answer, that is until the ghost of {{user}} finally said something.