RIGHT AFTER Patrick Ogley got up from the toilet, flushed, and went to go wash his hands—he heard a cracking sound coming from underneath the bathroom floor followed by another flush.

He froze, sighed, turned around, and walked out of the bathroom as if nothing happened. He had done this five times throughout August of 2006 in Malus, Maryland in his first-floor bathroom due to his rush to get to work, and it didn't stop there.

As Pat heard these sounds in the mall public restrooms and told his psychiatrist about them, his psychiatrist concluded that he needed to get some more sleep, to which Pat reluctantly agreed. Rest assured Patrick Ogley was not a madman.

When early September hit, the cracking sounds gradually went away, only to reappear later in the month in Pat's room on the second floor—the bathroom. Even worse, it was the day he had an afternoon meeting with his boss, and he had yet to get something for him.

After Pat got dressed, he strolled to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. The same sounds gradually came back, and it wasn't just cracking sounds, it was also hissing and munching sounds. He clutched his head and closed his eyes as the sounds grew in volume.

Agitated, he got up, readjusted himself, went out of the bathroom, and slammed the door shut. Two seconds later, he heard a flush. He sweated heavily, and tried to calm himself down with abdominal breathing, but it didn't work. The sounds grew louder, and he found these occurrences a contradiction to the belief that he was sane.

Do I have schizophrenia or is someone trying to prank me? Maybe it's a plumbing issue. This is ludicrous. I'll have to deal with it later. I still have a small errand to run, and I can't let this stop me.

Pat put his shoes on, maneuvered to his bedroom door, and shoved it open, as it was not fully closed. By the time he arrived on the first floor in the hallway downstairs, he heard another flush coming from the bathroom. He froze, then sighed. He ignored it and continued to walk, only coming to another halt when he heard, again, another flush.

Usually, there would never be another flush after the first one when he left the downstairs bathroom. He turned around and spotted water coming out of the bathroom.

Now the toilet is clogged. Just...why?

Pat was nearly about to throw a fit as he ambled towards the bathroom while waiting for the sounds to come back. They didn't. He heard nothing when he opened the bathroom door. Instead, he was met with a complete blank right after he felt something hit his head, throwing him against the wall.

Pat woke up with a gasp. Blood flowed from his forehead, and he felt excruciating pain in his back. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness. He blinked continuously, hoping his vision would change, but it did not. He screamed but could not hear himself screaming. He was struck down to two senses—touch and smell.

Pat made a quick effort to grab his flip-phone and dial 911. He gave up and clenched his fists, remembering that he couldn't hear. He pushed himself up. When his hands contacted the ground, he felt something sharp on his right thumb.

Oh god...

Whatever it was, it had quickly crawled on Pat's chest. In his mind, it was a spider—a ginormous one at that. Get off! He ignored his back pain, sprung up, and started kicking. He felt his kick connect with the spider and...

More spiders came. Pat believed they were baby spiders because he felt a lot of them crawl up his leg. He charged at the wall and slammed his right side of the body, attempting to crush the baby spiders.

IT'S NO USE! I MUST GET OUT!

He stumbled towards what felt like a dusty pole. That is when he knew exactly where he was: the basement.

Pat maneuvered to the basement stairs by navigating his way through the touch of the walls, trying hard to ignore the spiders that were overwhelming him. As he made his way up the stairs and opened the basement door, he tripped on something that felt like a thick thread and fell headfirst. His adrenaline kicked in.

All the spiders that accumulated on his body simultaneously bit Pat, rendering him unable to move. He screamed in agony as he felt another spider, the one that he had kicked earlier, drag him down the basement, no—the nest. He felt like he was about to lose consciousness, and when he reached the bottom of the stairs...

The next thing Pat felt was two hands restricting his hands on his back. Was he getting handcuffed? He could feel it, and he could smell the stench of iron in his nostrils too. As he rubbed his fingers on his palm, he felt something dry.

Blood...or dirt? Please, let it be dirt...

Someone shoved Pat, presumably in a vehicle, and squeezed his shoulders. He felt a vibration. That was probably the vehicle door.

No. I'm not insane...my psychiatrist told me I'm not...I can't be insane.

Well, his psychiatrist had lied to him, and now, he found himself trapped in a grotesque reality, helpless and stripped of options.