Amelia's chest burned from running. Every step echoed through the narrow, darkened hallway, her heart hammering as if it could break through her ribs. Ethan's hand remained locked around hers, his grip steady but tense, pulling her along like he would never let go.
"Keep moving," he whispered, breathless. "We're almost—"
A sudden shift in the darkness made him stumble. Amelia yelped and collided into him. Her face pressed against his chest, and for a brief, dizzying second, she could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat through his thin jacket.
She froze.
He stiffened too, hands gripping hers tighter. Neither spoke. The sound of their shared breathing was deafening. Outside, the hallway stretched on in endless black. Somewhere behind them, the faint tapping continued—soft, deliberate, almost… patient.
Amelia's cheeks burned. Focus, focus, she told herself, but it was impossible to ignore the closeness, the warmth, the way he smelled faintly of rain and old books.
"Ethan… are you okay?" she whispered, trying to sound normal.
"I… yeah," he said, voice low and rough. "Just—just focus on moving. Keep your eyes forward."
Her hand tightened around his. She didn't want to let go, though part of her wanted desperately to say thank you or I'm glad you're here. But words stuck in her throat.
Another soft scraping noise echoed behind them. Amelia stiffened, glancing over her shoulder. The darkness pressed so close, she could almost feel it crawling along her skin.
Ethan's hand moved to cover hers. "Don't look back," he hissed. "Whatever it is… it wants you to panic."
She swallowed. "I can't help it. I feel like it's… everywhere."
He slowed their pace for a moment, pressing a finger against her lips. "Shh. Just breathe. I'm right here."
Amelia's eyes widened. She could feel his breath brush her forehead, warm against the chill that hung in the hallway. Her pulse raced, not just from fear anymore.
The scraping sound came again, louder this time, closer. Something was following, but at least for now it hadn't caught them.
Ethan led her to a narrow set of stairs at the end of the hallway. The metal steps groaned under their weight, echoing through the emptiness. Halfway down, Amelia stumbled again.
Ethan caught her instantly, pulling her against him. She gasped, pressed against his chest, and her heart skipped. His eyes met hers for a fleeting moment in the dim light of the flashlight, and in that brief contact, the fear didn't disappear—but it became a shared thing, almost bearable.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
"I… I think so," she whispered, voice shaking.
"Good," he said, and for a moment, they simply stood there, pressed together, the world outside the stairs forgotten. The hallway, the tapping, the darkness—it all faded for one heartbeat.
Then Amelia remembered Leah. The phone. The message. Room 308.
She pushed away slightly. "We have to keep moving. We can't stop."
Ethan nodded, but his hand lingered on hers before letting go. "Right. Let's go."
---
They reached the bottom of the stairs, emerging into a narrow service corridor Amelia didn't recognize. The air smelled damp and musty, like the old parts of the school that had been abandoned decades ago. Faint puddles glimmered under the flashlight beam.
"Where are we?" Amelia whispered.
"I… don't know exactly," Ethan admitted. "I've been here a few times, but never after dark. The east wing isn't supposed to be accessible from here. That door we found… it shouldn't exist."
A faint breeze swept past them. Amelia shivered. "Then where did the tapping come from?"
Ethan's face darkened. "I don't know. But whatever it is… it wants something from Room 308. And it knows you're here."
Amelia's pulse quickened. She glanced at him. "I don't… I don't know if I want to go back there."
He looked at her sharply. "Neither do I. But we can't ignore it either. Leah—"
"She's counting on us," Amelia finished for him.
For a moment, silence fell between them. The faint dripping of water echoed through the corridor, and the shadows stretched unnaturally along the walls. Amelia felt the weight of the darkness pressing closer, but Ethan's presence at her side made it almost bearable.
"Do you… trust me?" he asked suddenly, voice low.
Amelia blinked. "Of course," she said automatically, though the words felt smaller than her heart.
"I mean… right now," he clarified. "Not just because I'm standing next to you, but… in everything. Can you trust me to get us out of this?"
Her chest tightened. "I… I trust you," she said, and she meant it. Every instinct screamed that she was relying on him completely, not just for guidance, but because she needed to. Needed to feel that connection when the rest of the world was unrecognizable.
He exhaled slowly, like a burden had lifted slightly. "Good. Then let's move. Together."
She nodded. Together. That word felt heavier, safer, somehow.
---
They continued down the corridor, the flashlight beam cutting narrow arcs through the darkness. Every corner they turned, Amelia felt a faint presence brushing against her mind—something aware of them, something waiting.
When they reached the end of the corridor, a faint light glowed under a door. Amelia froze.
Ethan noticed. "That's… not normal. Light shouldn't be coming from there."
Amelia's hand hovered over the doorknob. "Maybe someone's inside. Maybe Leah—"
"Maybe," Ethan said, taking her hand again, this time deliberately, holding it like a lifeline. "But we don't know if it's safe. So we stick together. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
They opened the door slowly. The room beyond was small, lined with old lockers and a single desk pushed into the corner. The light came from a small lamp on the desk. Papers were scattered across the floor, torn and yellowed with age.
And there, sitting on the desk, was a photograph.
Amelia stepped closer. She reached out, lifting it gently.
The photo showed a girl, smiling awkwardly, in a uniform almost identical to theirs. But the date stamped at the bottom made her blood run cold.
1998.
Leah. That was Leah.
Ethan leaned closer, peering over her shoulder. "This can't be real," he muttered. "That's… twenty years ago."
Amelia's fingers trembled. "Then… who is in Room 308?"
Ethan shook his head. "I don't know. But it's not just Leah. Whoever—or whatever—is in there… it's trapped someone for years. Or more than one someone."
Amelia's pulse raced. "And the messages? The tapping?"
He swallowed. "That… is them. Trying to reach out. Trying to warn us. Or lure us."
She looked at him. "And if we ignore it?"
Ethan's gaze met hers, serious and unflinching. "Then it wins. Whatever it is, it feeds on fear and hesitation. We don't hesitate."
Amelia nodded. "Then we face it. Together."
For a long moment, they stood side by side, the photograph between them, shadows stretching across the walls like fingers reaching out. The quiet tension between them was almost electric. The fear, the adrenaline, the closeness—they all mingled together into something fragile, human, and terrifyingly intimate.
Ethan shifted slightly closer. Amelia felt the warmth radiating from him. Her chest tightened again, but this time, it wasn't just fear.
Before she could think, he gave her hand a quick squeeze. "You're going to be okay," he said softly.
Amelia's lips parted, words caught somewhere in her throat. She wanted to say something, to admit how much that small gesture meant—but before she could, the lamp flickered violently.
The shadows stretched, twisting across the walls.
The tapping began again—soft, rhythmic, and deliberate.
Amelia exhaled slowly, gripping Ethan's hand tighter. "We go together," she whispered.
"Yes," he said. "Together."
And together, they stepped further into the unknown.