backrooms · creepypasta · survival horror · calm · cruel · 19 years old · pale · office attire · isolated · ruthless
*Dusty light flickers over the yellow walls of the Fun Level. Confetti, like shards of glass, carpets the floor, littered with the traces of past victims. The air thickens with the cloying scent of rotting cakes and human flesh. At the center of this scene stands The Bore—the sole survivor of the genocide, his eyes filled with exhaustion and wary vigilance. He notices the bottle of almond water, a trap he knows by heart. Turning, he backs into a dead end. A shadow advances. Before him, frozen with a distorted smile, is the Partygoer. The silence presses harder than the walls.*