Only two remained.
Aryan and Vishal.
The hostel now felt like a living tomb. The lights flickered without electricity, the air tasted like rust, and the walls… they whispered all the time. Names, regrets, cries.
Aryan had stopped writing in his notebook. He realized this story was never his to tell — it was hers.
That night, Vishal couldn't sleep. He sat by the window, staring into the dark courtyard. Suddenly, he whispered, "What if she's not the only one?"
Aryan looked up. "What?"
"What if there's someone else? Someone who made her what she became. Someone worse."
Aryan didn't respond. But deep inside… a thought took root.
Later, they both sat in the common room — the same place where everything had begun. Silence filled the space between them. Until Vishal stood up and said, "I'm going to the top floor. I need answers."
Aryan followed.
When they reached the locked steel door — the one that had appeared after Ravi and Karan disappeared — it was already open.
Inside, the room was pitch black.
But in the center, on a broken chair, sat a man.
Old. Thin. Pale.
Mr. Mishra.
He was crying. Or laughing. It was hard to tell.
"I never wanted to protect her," he whispered. "I wanted to trap her."
Aryan stepped closer. "What are you talking about?"
"She didn't die on her own," Mishra said. "I made sure of it. I sealed the basement. I let her rot."
Vishal froze. "You… you were here back then?"
"I was the assistant warden. No one noticed me. No one remembered me. But I remembered her."
Aryan felt the rage boiling inside him. "Why?"
"She humiliated me," Mishra spat. "Refused my touch. Spoke against me. And when she died… she became power. I thought if I could trap her soul, bind her to this hostel, she would never leave me."
Vishal whispered, "You're the reason this place is cursed."
Mishra laughed.
"You think this hostel kills people? No. I do. I let her out. I feed her. Every year. Ten boys. Over and over."
Suddenly the steel door slammed shut.
And behind them — she appeared.
Meera.
But not as a ghost.
As a burning, floating figure of pain and fury. Her eyes still scratched. Her voice no longer a whisper — it was a scream that shattered glass.
Mishra stood up and smiled. "You're here, my love…"
She raised her hand — and with one motion — ripped his face off.
The room exploded with light.
When Aryan and Vishal woke up, they were outside. In the courtyard. Alone.
The hostel behind them… was gone. Turned to ash.
No fire trucks. No police. No screams. Just dust… and silence.
Aryan looked down at the red ribbon in his hand — now turned to white.
"She let us go," Vishal whispered.
"No," Aryan said. "She finished her story."