Amelia couldn't see her own hands, couldn't see Ethan, couldn't even see the faint outline of the door they had just come through. It felt like the shadows had thickness—like she had stepped into ink.
Her breath came out quick and shallow. "Ethan?"
Nothing.
She reached blindly in the dark, but her fingers met only cold air.
"Ethan!" she hissed louder. "Where are you?!"
A light flickered.
Weak.
Then gone again.
Then a shaky beam returned—Ethan's flashlight struggling to stay alive.
Amelia's eyes finally adjusted enough to see him standing a few feet away, gripping her hand so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. His chest rose and fell too fast.
"Don't let go," he said. His voice was thin but steady enough to anchor her.
The closet door was still closed, but something shifted behind it—so quietly it could've been her imagination. Except she knew better now. She wished she didn't.
Amelia's heart thudded painfully as a faint sob drifted from inside the closet.
A girl's sob.
Broken.
Exhausted.
"Leah…" Amelia whispered.
Ethan stiffened. "That doesn't mean it's her."
"It sounds like her."
"It sounds like someone." He looked at the closet warily. "But not everything that sounds human is human."
A cold shiver ran down Amelia's spine.
"Then what do we do?" she asked.
"We leave," Ethan said firmly. "We find a teacher, the principal, a guard—anyone. We're not handling this alone."
He tugged her toward the hallway, and Amelia reluctantly followed. She cast one last look at the closet door, which sat too still, too quiet.
When they turned away, the phone on the bed lit up again.
Another message appeared:
"Don't leave me in the dark."
Amelia froze. The words pierced straight through her. "Ethan… we can't just—"
"We CAN," he interrupted, pulling her harder. "We can and we WILL. Something is seriously wrong with this place."
The flashlight flickered again. The hallway was dim but visible enough to navigate.
They stepped out of Room 308 just as the light sputtered and steadied.
For a moment, Amelia allowed herself to breathe.
Then the door behind them closed softly with a click.
Ethan spun around, eyes wide. "I didn't touch it."
"No one touched it," Amelia whispered. Her voice shook uncontrollably.
A low groan echoed from inside the room—like wood shifting, like something rising from the floor.
Something heavy.
Amelia grabbed Ethan's arm. "Move. Move now."
They ran.
Their footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway. Dust rose around them with every step, catching the weak beam of the flashlight like ash. The corridor felt endless now, longer than before, the shadows stretching out like claws.
"Why does it feel farther?" Amelia gasped.
"It's not," Ethan said, though he didn't sound convinced. "Just keep running."
But halfway down the hall, Amelia stopped.
There—on the wall—something new hadn't been there before.
A message scratched into the paint, jagged, rushed, like fingernails had made the letters:
DON'T TRUST HIM
Amelia's breath caught.
Ethan turned back. "Amelia, don't stop! We're almost—"
She pointed at the writing.
He raised the flashlight so they could both see it clearly.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Ethan muttered, "Okay. That's… not great."
Another message was scrawled beneath it—barely visible:
I tried to warn you.
He swallowed. "Let's go. Now."
But Amelia didn't move. Something inside her twisted sharply.
"Why would it say not to trust you?" she asked softly.
"I don't know," he said. "But right now is definitely not the time to debate it."
Amelia searched his face. "Ethan… did you know more about this place than you told me?"
He didn't answer.
She stepped back, her pulse racing. "Ethan?"
"I didn't lie to you," he said quickly. "I didn't. I just—didn't tell you everything. There's a difference."
"That's literally the definition of lying!"
He dragged a hand through his hair. "Okay, YES, fine. I should've said more. But I swear I didn't know it was this bad. I didn't know about texts. Or voices. Or whatever's in that closet."
"Then what DID you know?" she demanded.
"That the school covered this place up," he said in a rush. "That something happened here. That the girl who lived in Room 308 wasn't found for days."
"Days?" Amelia's voice cracked.
He nodded. "They didn't tell the students what happened. They just closed the wing and acted like it never existed. My brother was in this school then. He told me pieces. He said a girl went missing and they only found her after the smell started—"
Ethan stopped himself, his expression tightening.
"I'm not saying she died," he corrected quickly. "Just… that's what people assumed."
"But Leah wasn't here when the room was sealed," Amelia whispered.
Ethan shook his head. "No. That's why all of this doesn't make sense."
The flashlight flickered violently again.
When it came back on, the writing on the wall had changed.
The new message read:
SHE'S LYING.
Amelia felt her stomach drop. "Ethan… we have to get out of here. Now."
"I KNOW."
They ran again.
Finally, they reached the hidden door—the one they originally pushed open. Except now it wasn't open. It was sealed shut, paint and plaster covering it completely, as if it had never been moved in the first place.
"No… no no no…" Ethan whispered, pressing his palms against the solid wall. "This wasn't here. We opened it. We opened it together!"
Amelia hit the wall with her fist, panic rising in her chest. "There HAS to be a way out!"
Behind them, the hallway lights flickered—once, twice, then went out completely.
Darkness slammed into them.
"Ethan?" she whispered.
"I'm here," he said, grabbing her hand again.
His voice was calm, but his grip was trembling.
Something scraped along the floor behind them.
Slow, dragging.
Closer.
Amelia couldn't breathe. "Something's following us…"
Ethan pulled her against the wall. "Stay quiet."
She pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to calm her breathing. The scraping sound stopped.
Silence.
Then—
A soft, light tapping.
On the floor.
Then behind them.
Then beside them.
Then above them, like fingers brushing the ceiling.
Amelia clutched Ethan's arm so tightly her nails dug into his sleeve. "I can't… I can't stay here…"
"I know. I know."
He shone the dimming flashlight around, looking for anything—any opening, any exit, any crack. The beam landed on something near the floor.
A vent. Small, rusty, half-covered with dust.
"That's too small," Amelia said.
"You'd fit."
"I'm not leaving you."
"You have to."
"I WON'T."
He turned to her, shaking his head. "Amelia, listen—"
Before he could finish, the phone in Amelia's pocket lit up.
The screen showed a new message.
From the same unknown number that had been texting her since the beginning.
"He won't save you."
Amelia's blood ran cold.
Ethan leaned closer to see the screen—and his expression changed instantly.
"What is this supposed to mean?" he whispered.
Another message appeared.
"But I can."
Then the hallway behind them filled with a quiet sound.
Not scraping.
Not knocking.
Breathing.
Slow.
Too close.
Just inches behind them.
Ethan's voice trembled. "Amelia… don't… turn around."
Her heart slammed in her chest, but she nodded. "Tell me what to do."
"On three, we run," he said. "We don't stop. No matter what."
"Okay."
"One…"
Her legs tensed, ready to sprint.
"Two…"
Something cold brushed against her hair.
"Three."
They ran.
They didn't look back.
They didn't slow down.
But even as they sprinted through the darkness, Amelia could feel it—
Something was chasing them.
And it wasn't human.