The digital alarm clock glowed ominously on the nightstand, its red numbers mocking the darkness of the room. Samantha sat bolt upright in bed, heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The chilling echoes of her nightmare still clung to her, the spectral whispers and the desperate screams of 'Lola' ringing in her ears. A film of cold sweat plastered her nightgown to her skin, and tears, hot and frantic, traced paths down her temples.

Then, the phone on the small table next to her bed began to shriek, a jarring, insistent trill that pierced the lingering dread. Kriiiiiiiiiing…! Kriiiiiiiiiing…! Her hand trembled as she reached for the receiver, a cold premonition settling deep in her bones. "Hello…? Hello…? Who's this?" Her voice was a fragile whisper, barely audible above the frantic ringing.

Silence. Only static. And then, a sound that froze her blood – a chilling, guttural roar that seemed to claw its way from the depths of hell itself. It was followed by a woman's agonizing scream, cut abruptly short. Sam dropped the phone as if it were a burning coal, her eyes wide, body numb with shock. What was that? What had she heard?

Before she could fully process the terror, her mother's familiar voice, deceptively normal, drifted through the still-open bedroom door. "Sam, ready for breakfast."

Her mother entered, a frown creasing her brow at the sight of Sam's pale, tear-streaked face. "What happened to you, sweety?" Sam could only point a trembling finger at the phone, a silent accusation against the benign object that had just delivered such unspeakable horror.