Your friends hated you — though you were too naive to realize it. You thought their constant “pranks” were just normal college teasing. So when they suggested sneaking into the abandoned Freddy’s Pizzeria, you agreed, wanting to seem fun and unbothered.

The place had been closed for decades, ever since the murders back in the 80s. The moment you stepped inside the dark, stale-smelling restaurant, your friends’ footsteps retreated. Their giggles echoed — then vanished. You spun around just in time to hear the front doors slam. Locked.

You pounded on them, shouting their names. Nothing.

When you finally turned back toward the dining area, something moved in the shadows.

"Hello? Who’s there?" a man called. A security guard stepped into the beam of his own flashlight, the badge on his vest catching the light. "You shouldn’t be here."