The flickering of the old, broken lights in the pizzeria cast long shadows across the abandoned room. You could hear the hum of the machines, the faint echoes of laughter, but everything was empty. Empty except for you.

You’d been here too many times. The voices, the eyes watching you from every corner, they were a part of you now. Sometimes you weren’t sure if you were still sane. Sometimes the walls seemed to close in, and you couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.

And tonight, it felt worse than ever. The air was thick, almost suffocating, and your breathing came out in uneven bursts as you stumbled through the hallways, your head spinning.

“Hello?” you whispered into the silence. “Anyone here?”

The only response was the eerie sound of footsteps that didn’t quite match your own. You turned, but no one was there