Amelia's hand was still in Ethan's as they stepped further into the dimly lit room. The photograph from 1998 lay forgotten on the desk, half-buried under yellowed papers. Her pulse raced in a mix of fear and adrenaline, each beat echoing like a warning in the small, stale room.
Ethan held the flashlight steadily, but Amelia noticed the subtle tremor in his fingers. He hadn't spoken since they stepped through the door, but she didn't mind. Words felt fragile here, useless against the tension that pressed down like wet concrete.
The room was small, cramped, and suffocating. Dust coated every surface, and the faint scent of mildew clung to the air. She thought she saw movement in the corner, a shadow shifting across the wall—but when she blinked, it was gone.
"Stay close," Ethan whispered, his voice barely audible.
Amelia nodded, stepping closer to him. She realized that the warmth radiating from his body was grounding her, keeping her tethered while the rest of the world seemed to blur into shadows.
They reached the center of the room, where the desk lamp flickered weakly. A faint hum seemed to pulse from the walls, like the room itself was alive, breathing. Amelia's eyes scanned every corner, searching for… what? She didn't know. But the tension in the air told her something—Leah, or whatever had been sending the messages, was near.
Suddenly, the closet door—the same one that had scared her before—creaked open slowly. A soft rustle emerged from inside, followed by a whisper:
"Amelia…"
Her breath caught. She took a cautious step forward. "Leah?"
The room was empty. Only shadows moved, bending unnaturally in the dim light. Her stomach twisted, fear prickling at every nerve.
Ethan moved beside her, flashlight raised. "It's okay. Just stay calm."
"Calm?!" she whispered, though her voice trembled. "Someone—or something—is here, and it's talking to me!"
"I know," he said. His hand brushed hers as he reached for the closet door. "We'll figure it out. Together."
The word together sent a strange warmth through Amelia's chest. She realized how much she depended on him—not just for safety, but for courage, for grounding. Her fear didn't vanish, but it was tempered by the knowledge that he was beside her.
"Do you hear that?" Ethan asked, his eyes narrowing.
Amelia nodded. A soft tapping echoed from behind the closet, deliberate and slow, almost like Morse code. Her stomach dropped.
"Someone is definitely here," she whispered.
Ethan took a deep breath and stepped closer to the closet, pushing it open wider. The beam of the flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing… nothing. Empty shelves, coats that hadn't moved in years, and dust so thick it floated in the light like tiny ghosts.
Then the floorboard beneath their feet groaned. Amelia jumped. Ethan grabbed her arm.
"Don't panic," he said firmly.
Her heart raced. "I'm not… I'm just… something's here."
Before Ethan could respond, a small figure darted from the corner of the room, knocking over a stack of papers. Amelia screamed instinctively. The figure froze.
It was a girl. Pale, thin, with dark circles under her eyes. Her uniform was old, torn, and dusty. She looked… younger than Amelia remembered Leah.
"Who… who are you?" Amelia stammered.
The girl's lips moved, but no sound came out. Instead, she reached toward Amelia, trembling, eyes wide with fear.
Ethan stepped in front of Amelia protectively. "It's okay. We won't hurt you."
The girl blinked rapidly, then pointed to the desk where the photograph lay. She mouthed something silently. Amelia leaned closer to see: the photo of Leah from 1998.
Amelia's stomach sank. "She's trying to show us something…"
The girl grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and handed it to Amelia. On it, written in shaky handwriting:
"I tried to warn her. I tried to save her."
Amelia read it aloud. "You… tried to save Leah?"
The girl nodded vigorously, then pointed to the closet again, shaking her head as if to say, not safe.
Ethan's eyes met hers. "Okay… we need a plan. First, we figure out what she's trying to show us. Then we get out of here before—whatever this is—decides it's time to act."
Amelia nodded, feeling a mix of fear and determination. She glanced at Ethan. Their hands brushed briefly. The warmth spread through her chest, grounding her. She realized that no matter what happened next, she couldn't face it alone—and now she didn't have to.
The girl moved closer to the desk again, pointing to a pile of old yearbooks. Amelia picked one up. Her breath caught. On the cover: Saint Vincent Academy, 1998.
Inside were photos of students—faces frozen in time, smiling, unaware. And there, among them, was Leah. Or someone who looked exactly like her.
Amelia's mind reeled. "That… that can't be possible."
The girl nodded urgently, mouthing the word copy. She gestured to the photograph on the desk, then to the page in the yearbook.
Ethan took the hint. "There's a pattern," he murmured. "Whatever is going on with Room 308… it repeats. Leah's not the first. And she might not be the last."
Amelia swallowed hard, feeling the weight of it all. But then she looked at Ethan. And the fear, while still present, was less paralyzing.
"We need to help her," she said softly. "Together."
Ethan gave her a small, tense smile. "Together," he agreed, his hand brushing hers again.
Outside, the faint tapping continued—closer now, louder, as if whatever had been waiting for them had finally noticed they weren't afraid.
Amelia's pulse surged. Her fear was still there, raw and sharp. But so was something else—a steady courage, a flicker of warmth that came from being side by side with someone she trusted.
"Whatever happens next," she whispered, "we face it. Together."
Ethan nodded. "We face it together."
The girl in the corner looked up at them, eyes pleading. The shadows in the room stretched and twisted, but for the first time, Amelia felt like she wasn't completely alone in the darkness.
And then, faintly, a whisper echoed through the room:
"Finally… someone who cares."
Amelia's hand found Ethan's again. The grip was firm, grounding her in the only truth she could trust—he was here. She was here. And they would face whatever Room 308 had waiting for them.
The night stretched on, but for the first time, Amelia felt ready.
Together.