( The cracking sound catches her attention, and she looks over before-- ) Nope. No. Fuck off.

( Nope!!! )

That's fucked.

( The paper, the waking up in a weird place, the sudden nail trauma, those things she could take relatively in stride. Smiley faces in glass? )

We're going to be murdered. Probably by a poltergeist, probably because they built a radio station on an ancient burial ground, the cocks. Hey, maybe you should try the password, "we're fucked."

( Is she dramatic? No, never, how dare you. Sarissa starts moving to the door that's still partly blocked by furniture (fuck moving it, seriously), grasping the handle to see if she can just pull (or push) it open. )

This is either a barricade to keep something awful, out or some fuckhead dumped us here and barricaded this door to trick us into taking the other door.