Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep
I Thought We'd Be Safe Under the Stairs... I Was Wrong
08 May 2026
Transcript generated automatically by AI and may contain errors.
Chapter 1: What is the main topic discussed in this episode?
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Delia and I ended up in the room under the stairs because there was nowhere else we could go for some private time. It wasn't our house. Three friends from Delia's work were renting the secluded two-story structure, and they had invited us over for a little get-together.
Most of the partygoers had left for the night, and Nico was snoring on the couch when Delia asked me to drive us back to my apartment. It was past two in the morning, and we were snuggled in a recliner in front of the TV. No way, I said. I'm way too drunk for that. I told you we would have to crash here if I did any drinking. Pouting, Delia said.
I know, I just wanted you to have fun and let loose a little. You're always so reserved. I like that about you, but I know you have another side. I wanted to see it. But now, even more than that, I want a little us time. The littlest things she did could get my engine revving. Although I rarely saw her apply any, her thick lips always glistened with lip gloss.
And when she pushed them out in a pout, it sent my mind straight into the gutter. I looked into her gold-flecked brown skin and felt my stomach tensing with excitement. She was gorgeous, with golden brown skin, a full figure, high cheekbones, and dark, glossy hair. As drunk as I was, the idea of some us-time suddenly had me contemplating driving anyway.
It was a bad idea, and I had promised my mother when she surprised me with a car on my 18th birthday that I would never drive drunk. Although there were some promises I had failed to keep, that wasn't one of them. Especially since we had lost my dad to a drunk driving accident when I was 15. Now that I was 21 and of legal drinking age, it was even more important.
Wait, you're saying I didn't get loose enough for you tonight? I teased.
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Chapter 2: Why did Delia and the narrator end up under the stairs?
Delia wrapped her arms around my neck and smiled, moving close enough that I could smell the juice on her breath from her vodka cranberry. No, I still haven't seen that other side, but I know it's in there somewhere. We kissed and my engine neared red. The sudden eruption of noises from upstairs had me pulling away.
I looked at the ceiling and smiled at the squeaking of bed springs from the room Benito and Irma shared. Again, Delia said. Wow, after that last session, I figured they would be worn out. Guess not. She looked at me. I grinned and pulled her into a deep kiss. When we came up for air, I said, Fuck it. Let's go. I'll drive safe. Delia shook her head. No, no, no.
As tempting as it is, I don't want to risk it, but I have an idea. She got up from the chair and moved toward the stairwell, which flanked the back wall at the rear of the living room. At first, I thought she was going to go up the stairs, but she moved to a small door in the wall underneath them. She opened it, bent down, and reached inside, pulling on a string to turn a light on.
I got an amazing view of her ass and her tight black shorts. She straightened and hurried over to me, smiling excitedly. Grab the pillows and stuff, she said, gesturing at the comforter and two pillows Irma had brought down for us earlier. Under there? I asked.
really yes really she grabbed my wrist to haul me up nico has passed out he won't hear a thing i glanced at the skinny white 18 year old who lay snoring on the couch his sneaker still on he worked at the restaurant with delia irma and the others although a lightweight and a stereotypical stoner i always found him funny and unselfconscious in the best way possible snatching the bedding i followed delia into the tiny room under the stairs
It's a Harry Potter hole, she said as she moved in. What's that? I asked, pointing at another door directly opposite the one we had used to get into the small space. I don't know, she said, unfolding the blanket to spread it out onto the threadbare carpet. I reached out and opened the door, revealing a drop of a couple of feet to the crawlspace under the house.
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Chapter 3: What unexpected events occurred during the party?
Warm Florida air and the smell of moist earth wafted out. Close it, Delia said. There's probably spiders down there. I chuckled, shutting the door. With the blanket and pillows, it was a cozy space with just enough room for us to maneuver. We started kissing again, but Delia stopped me as it was getting hot and heavy. Turn off the light. I want to see you, I said. It's so bright.
It's not flattering. The bare bulb hanging from the underside of one of the stairs was pretty bright. I wasn't about to press the issue. I pulled the string and the light went off. Then we picked up where we'd left off. I was pulling her shorts down her smooth legs when the crash came. What was that? Delia said, propping herself on her elbows. I don't know. Almost sounded like the front door.
A moment later, I heard low voices speaking in the living room. Although I couldn't make out the words, they were men's voices. There was no doubt about that. The steps overhead creaked faintly as two or three people started upstairs. The metallic thwack of an aluminum baseball bat hitting something sounded from the living room.
I knew immediately what that noise meant, but I tried not to believe it. I wanted to be wrong. The noise came again. Thwack! A sickening sound. A crash came from upstairs, followed closely by a yelp of surprise. Irma! Benito shouted, angry. Then a meaty thud sounded, and Benito screamed in pain. Irma screamed, but the sound was soon muffled, as if someone had pressed a hand to her mouth.
In the dark, under the stairs, I could see the whites of Delia's eyes as she stared at me. My heart was beating so hard I felt sick. Each beat pulsed around the outside of my vision. I whispered, tucking her shorts back up her legs. She took over, pulling them all the way up. Where's your phone? I asked. On the coffee table. I reached to the side, retrieving my cell phone from where I'd put it.
I had to look up the house's address from my Maps app, and then I texted it to 911. Under the house, I said, shifting to move toward the crawlspace door. As Delia moved, she bumped her head on a stair with a loud thud. A man said from the living room, Go! I hissed, opening the door and shoving Delia into the dark crawlspace. I pressed my cell phone into her hand, screen still unlocked.
Before she could protest, I shut the door on her. Just as soon as I got turned around, the other door opened, revealing a young Hispanic man with prominent ears and closely cut hair. He held an aluminum bat in one hand. I tried not to stare at the bits of blood and hair stuck to it. Who the fuck are you? He asked. Putting my hands up, I said, No one. I was here for the party. Get out.
On your hands and knees. There was still a commotion from upstairs, but I was barely aware of it. I crawled out from under the stairs. Lie down, the man said. I begged him for 18 or 19. He had a slender runner's frame and eyes that shone with cruelty. I shifted to lie on my back, but he stopped me. On your chest. Hands clasped behind your back.
As I moved to do what he said, I glanced at the couch. Niko still lay there, but his face had been smashed in, pulverized, leaving nothing but a mess of bloody bone and torn flesh. Blood spattered the wall above the couch. Something dark and cavernous flickered in my mind at the sight. A glimpse of some part of myself, or part of the universe, that I had never considered before.
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Chapter 4: How did the situation escalate under the stairs?
A mixture of terror and wonder came with the jumbled flash, but it was soon replaced by a part of myself I knew too well. What the fuck? I thought, my inner voice high and whiny, brimming with childish frustration. With it came a swell of panic, rising up in my mind like a tsunami wave. Before it could crash into me, something else did. The man hit me in the low back with his baseball bat.
Instead of panic, pain occupied my whole being, blotting out every other thought. I fell to my chest, covered the back of my head with my hands, sure he would bash my skull in next. I said lie down, motherfucker, the man yelled.
What's going on down there, Tony?
Another man called from the second floor. As someone came down the stairs, my pain dulled, allowing me to think again. I wondered how long it would take for the police to show up. The old house was somewhat isolated, a good 10 miles out of town.
This dude was hiding under the stairs, Tony said to the new arrival.
I glanced up to see a large bald man in his mid-twenties with bulging, heavy-lidded eyes. His skin, a shade lighter than my toasted brown, was littered with acne scars on his face and various other scars on his arms. Slapdash tattoos dotted his forearms here and there. He pointed his baseball bat at me. Where's the bitch? I tucked my head under my hands again.
That dumb cunt upstairs said there was another bitch here. Where is she? As he spoke, he moved over to the stairwell door and flung it open. A moment later, he shouted, Fuck!
She got under the house! Robbie, get down here now!
Footsteps rushed down the stairs.
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Chapter 5: What alarming noises were heard from upstairs?
I knew vaguely that Salazar had entered the skirmish, having had to climb over the fallen closet door to join the fray. By the time I caught a full inhale, it was all over. I first looked at Delia, who lay curled on the floor next to the bed, sobbing, eyes screwed shut. On the other side of the room, Quinton was on his back on the floor, Salazar straddling him.
The gang leader yanked his knife out of Quinton's chest and stabbed it back in. He did it three times before he stopped and glanced over at the man who'd been hit in the neck with the bat. He scrabbled at his collapsed windpipe, eyes bulging with panic as he tried and failed to breathe. His feet kicked feebly at the floor as he sat among the hanging clothes in the closet.
His dark-skinned face changed colors.
You killed Tironi!
Salazar said to Quentin. He pulled the knife out of his chest before stabbing him in the face with it again and again. Emery had been knocked unconscious or killed outright. He lay where he'd fallen after taking the hit to the head. Tony kicked me in the ribs. Get down!
I fell to my back, listening to the sickening wet sounds of the knife blades stabbing Quentin's face and the struggling, breathless sounds of Terrone suffocating. Then there came three loud knocks at the front door. My eyes widened as I remembered texting 911. It seemed like an eternity ago. Tension immediately crowded the room. Everyone froze.
Even Terrone stopped making noise, but only because he was dead. Sometime during the skirmish, Irma had stopped screaming. She was dead too. Four more knocks sounded. A man's voice called.
Sheriff's office. Open the door, please.
Hope transformed my features.
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Chapter 6: How did the narrator and Delia react to the danger?
Tony, standing over me with his bat at the ready, looked down. His face clouded with anger. Seeing no fear in his expression blunted the small hope I had, but I knew this was our best chance at salvation. I opened my mouth to yell for help. I got one syllable out before Tony jammed the top of his baseball bat into my mouth, shattering my teeth and tearing my lips apart.
Pain blinded me as blood filled my mouth, and my focus narrowed to struggling breaths through my nose. "'Robby, go talk to him,' Salazar whispered. "'Tell him everything's fine.' "'Why me?' Robbie asked. "'Because I'm fucking covered in blood, "'and Terrone's fucking dead, and Tony is fucking busy. "'Just do it. Get rid of him. "'What if he wants to come inside?' "'Don't let him!'
more banging at the door. Go! Robby propped his bat against the wall and headed downstairs. When he was still on the stairs, the cop knocked again.
I'm coming!
Robby yelled. Salazar got to his feet, bloody knife still in hand. He looked around the room. As if suddenly remembering Delia, he went to her and slapped a hand over her mouth, putting his blade to her throat. I didn't think she would have made a noise anyway, aside from the low sobs that had been escaping her ever since seeing Irma opened up.
Straining my ears, I heard Lote talking from the front door, but I couldn't make out the words, not at first. But after some back and forth, I could hear Robbie getting agitated.
I told you everything's fine, he said loudly. This is private property and I know my rights. No one here called the police.
The cop answered in a level voice. I caught the words, I'm gonna need you to calm down, sir. Shit, Salazar whispered. Tony, keep an eye on them. Make sure they don't move. I gotta go deal with this. Tony responded by jamming his bat farther into my mouth. My jaw ached from being forced open so wide. To keep from choking, I had to swallow blood.
Fragments of teeth scratched my throat on their way down. Salazar left the room with his knife still in hand. In my peripheral vision, I saw Emery twitch. My eyes brimmed with tears, so I wasn't sure I had seen right at first. But a moment later, I saw him turn his head. Tony had his back to the man, unaware that he was awake. He stared at me, but without focus. He listened rapidly.
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