Darren hated the midnight shifts, but someone had to finish the quarterly reports, and his boss had made it clear it was his turn. His office was on the 15th floor of an old high-rise, the kind of place where the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, and the elevators creaked ominously. Most of his coworkers left by 6 PM, leaving him alone in the sprawling, dimly lit office.
The first few hours passed without incident. Darren buried himself in spreadsheets and drowned out the eerie quiet with his headphones. By 1 AM, the silence felt heavier, oppressive even, and the building's usual background noises seemed louder—the groaning pipes, the hum of the air conditioning, and... was that a faint tapping sound?
He pulled off his headphones. The tapping continued, steady and rhythmic, coming from somewhere behind him. He turned his chair slowly, his eyes scanning the rows of empty cubicles. Nothing. Just the faint glow of the emergency exit signs and the shadows cast by the moonlight seeping through the windows.
Shrugging it off as his imagination, Darren went back to work. But the tapping grew louder, moving closer. He stood up, gripping the stapler on his desk as if it were a weapon, and cautiously walked toward the source of the sound.
It led him to the break room.
The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the vending machine. The sound stopped abruptly as Darren stepped inside. He flicked the light switch, but the fluorescent bulb flickered weakly, casting erratic shadows across the room.
On the counter, a coffee mug sat alone. Steam rose from it, curling lazily into the air. Darren’s blood ran cold—he hadn’t made coffee. He picked up the mug. It was ice-cold.
A low chuckle echoed behind him.
He spun around, but no one was there. His breathing quickened as he backed out of the break room. The office felt different now, colder, darker, like the shadows were closing in. He returned to his desk, determined to finish his work quickly and leave.
But when he sat down, his computer screen was no longer displaying his spreadsheet. Instead, it showed a grainy security camera feed of the office floor.
Darren stared, his heart pounding. The camera was focused on him, from the corner of the room. He glanced toward the spot where the camera should have been but saw nothing. The screen flickered, and the feed changed.
Now, it showed a figure standing by the break room door.
The figure was tall and shadowy, with no discernible features, its head tilted at an unnatural angle. As Darren watched, paralyzed, the figure turned slowly toward the camera. It had no face, just a smooth, pale surface where eyes and a mouth should have been.
The lights in the office flickered violently. The screen went black, and the computer shut off.
A whispering sound surrounded him, unintelligible but insistent, like a hundred voices speaking at once. Darren bolted from his desk, grabbing his bag and heading for the elevator.
He slammed the button repeatedly, glancing over his shoulder. The shadows in the office seemed to move, pooling together and stretching toward him. The elevator doors opened with a ding, and he rushed inside, jabbing at the ground floor button.
As the doors began to close, he saw the figure again, standing in the middle of the office, its featureless face staring directly at him.
The elevator descended, but the whispering followed him, growing louder and louder. The lights in the elevator flickered and went out completely, plunging him into darkness.
When the doors opened, Darren found himself back on the 15th floor.
The office was silent, his desk neatly arranged as if he’d never been there. On the monitor, a message blinked in bright red letters:
"YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE."
The elevator doors closed behind him, and the whispering started again.
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