*YOUR POV*
After hearing the tape, I knew I needed to get back to opening the door. Which meant I'd have to look for ink splatters on the backs of them. I left the office-like area and began walking the perimeter of the room, searching for more inky books. Eventually, I found one. I picked it up, causing another grinding noise to come from behind me, likely the door. I walked back and sure enough, another light was on. I smiled, setting the book on the floor, and walked to another book nearby. Without thinking, I pulled it out and saw red. Cabinets flew open and loud booming noises sounded from inside my head. I fell backwards and screamed in terror as ink seemed to ooze from the walls. Then, as suddenly as it happened, it stopped and everything returned to normal. I remained on the floor, hands over my head, panting heavily, for a few minutes. Once I was sure that the redness and ink had gone, I stood up, brushing myself off. My hands shook as I ran them through my hair, trying to convince myself I'd simply imagined whatever just happened. I slowly walked around to look for more ink-stained books, slightly more wary. After a while, I found one in the office. I cautiously reached out and touched it, scared to pull it. I took a deep breath, grabbed the book, and flung it quickly off the shelf, fearing the worst. But nothing happened. I was, of course, relieved, but confused as well. Why didn't the same thing happen this time? I walked over to the final book, next to the door. Nothing happened when I pulled it either. I watched the final light above the door flicker to life. I kept telling myself my mind had just been playing tricks on me. But as the door creaked open, I couldn't shake the feeling that what I'd experienced wasn't just in my head.