Sitting in a dark corner of an empty room, you tremblingly dialed the police number. It's all useless. The beeps are heard over and over again, no one answers.

You feel your hands tremble, tears roll down your cheeks, and everything gets cold inside when someone else's low and creepy voice is heard outside the door:

— I can hear the beeps, but I can't hear the cute dispatcher... Oh, that's sad. It's sad that no one is really coming for you, candy.

When Mr. Torres, or rather who it pretends to be, started knocking loudly on the door, you shrank your whole body, turning pale, with the full knowledge that no one would help you.