Susan walked leisurely out of her classroom, her left arm weighed down by several thick textbooks from today's lessons. Her backpack, packed with notebooks and personal items, rested snugly against her back.
It was 3 p.m., and class had just ended. As she made her way home, her thoughts drifted back to the birthday party her mom had mentioned.
I think the only way to avoid that shitty party is to tell them I have an important class I can't miss.
Just the thought of seeing Aunt Sanny made her mood sour. Coming up with this excuse felt like lifting a giant weight off her shoulders—like a fish suddenly thrown back into water.
Feeling lighter, she walked faster and slipped into the boarding house gate.
Back in her room, Susan immediately turned on her fan, changed into comfortable clothes, and collapsed onto her bed. She stared at the ceiling, fingers tapping lightly against the mattress—a habit she had whenever she was deep in thought.
"What should I write in the WhatsApp?" she muttered.
She needed to craft a very polite message for Uncle Andy… and, unfortunately, for Aunt Sanny too—even though she knew Aunt Sanny would probably ignore it.
Tick… tick… tick…
The faint sound of nails tapping against glass snapped her out of her thoughts.
She blinked.
"Huh? Who is it?" she called out, pushing herself up and glancing toward the door.
Had someone just gotten home?
Still sitting upright, she waited.
Silence.
With a sigh, she dragged herself off the bed and walked toward the door.
It's probably Cynthia messing with me again, she thought.
She pulled the door open, ready to see Cynthia's mischievous grin.
But…
No one was there.
Susan stepped out, peering left and right down the dim hallway.
Empty.
Not a sound.
Not a shadow.
Weird.
She headed back inside and threw herself onto the bed again, trying to focus on writing her message to her uncle and rehearsing how to respond if he asked questions. She stared at the ceiling, mind drowning in thoughts.
Tick… tick… tick…
The sound came again.
Fingers tapping the louvered window.
Susan's head snapped toward it.
Again?
She squinted, trying to see a silhouette through the window, but her room's lights were on while the corridor outside was dim. The contrast made it impossible to see outside.
Frowning, she stood up.
This time, she marched straight to the window, grabbed the curtain, and yanked it open.
Nothing.
Her eyes darted left and right, scanning the outdoor corridor.
Empty.
Where is she hiding?
It had to be Cynthia. No one else liked pranks this much.
Annoyance burned in her chest. She grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.
"Very funny, Cyn," she called loudly. "You done messing around?"
Silence.
That deep, unnatural silence.
Her ears strained for even the slightest hint—laughter, footsteps, whispering.
Nothing.
The entire house was silent.
Her breath hitched.
She was alone.
A chill rippled through her. And suddenly she remembered—the girl in white, standing on the terrace two weeks ago… singing Close to You in that hauntingly slow voice.
She had buried that memory deep.
But now it clawed its way back.
No. No, it's just Cynthia.
Positive. Positive. Positive.
It had to be Cynthia.
Besides… it was still daytime.
Ghosts didn't roam during the day.
Right?
Her logic calmed her—just enough.
She huffed. If they wanted to mess with her, she'd drown it all out with music.
She turned to her desk, grabbed her bag, found her earphones, and plugged them into her phone. She scrolled through her playlist.
Just as she pressed play—
Tick… tick… tick.
Louder.
Sharper.
Her fingers froze.
"Enough," she snapped. "This is too much."
Frustration shot through her. She threw her phone onto the bed, stormed toward the door, yanked it open, and stepped into the hallway.
That's when she saw it.
A flicker.
A shadow darting toward the bathroom.
Her pulse jumped.
"Hey! This isn't funny!" she shouted, her voice echoing down the corridor.
She charged after it, her footsteps pounding against the floor.
Brak!
She shoved the bathroom door open so hard it bounced off the hinges.
Empty.
Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps. No way—no way—someone could disappear that fast.
Her stomach twisted.
Still, she forced herself to move forward. The bathroom had two shower stalls.
She reached the first one, her fingers trembling slightly, and pulled it open.
Empty.
Her chest tightened.
She spun to the second stall and pushed it open harder than she meant to.
Empty.
A cold sensation wrapped around her.
And then—
A sound.
Soft. Drifting. Familiar.
"…why do birds suddenly appear…"
Susan's heart froze.
The singing.
It was back.
"Every time you are near…"
No…
No.
No—this wasn't Cynthia.
This wasn't a prank.
This was something else.
Her breath quickened, each inhale sharp and shallow. Terror coiled around her chest like a tightening rope.
She stepped out of the bathroom slowly, her body stiff, her legs shaky.
Then the voice rose again—
"…why do stars fall down from the sky…"
Her steps stopped right in front of the stairs.
The stairs leading to the third floor.
The forbidden floor.
No one was allowed to go up there. And yet—there was no mistake.
The voice was coming from above.
***
A few moments later, Susan was in a public bus heading to Uncle Andy house. She needed to leave that house. To be around with people. To talk. To laugh. To drown out the horrible, lingering echo of that voice.
But no matter how loud the city was—no matter how hard she tried to focus on the sound of honking cars and distant chatter, the singing was still there.
Clear. Unrelenting.
As if it had followed her. As if it would never leave.
Just like me, they long to be….
Close to you….