Chapter Five – The Whisper Behind the Door
Outside, the sun shone brightly, but their room felt untouched by warmth. The door stood still — plain to anyone else.
But not to them.
Not anymore.
Clara stared at the door, her fingers twitching but frozen by fear. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to leave this room, this dorm, this school — but a strange pull kept her rooted in place. A cold curiosity, mingled with something darker: dread.
Maya stood beside her, biting her lip, eyes flicking nervously from the door to Clara's face. "What if it's a trick? What if it's trying to trap us?" she whispered.
Clara swallowed hard. "And what if it's not?"
A heavy silence fell between them. The room seemed to shrink around them, the usual noises of campus life muffled as if the dorm itself had sealed them off from the outside world.
Maya shifted closer. "We should tell someone. Campus security, the dean, anyone."
Clara shook her head slowly. "They won't believe us. They'll think we're making it up. Or worse… they might lock us up for losing it."
Maya's eyes filled with panic. "So what do we do then?"
"We find out what's behind that door," Clara said firmly, her voice steadier than she felt.
The air grew colder, heavier, like a storm was gathering inside their tiny room. Suddenly, a faint scratching began — soft, almost playful, like fingernails tracing the wood.
Clara's breath hitched. "Did you hear that?"
Maya nodded, wide-eyed. "Yeah. It's coming from the door."
Clara reached out tentatively. Her fingertips brushed the cold metal handle, slick with unseen moisture.
Then, a voice — so soft it could have been her imagination.
"Help me…"
Maya grabbed Clara's hand. "No! Don't—"
But Clara had already turned the knob.
The door creaked open with a low, mournful groan, revealing a narrow, dark space beyond.
A rush of icy air spilled out, chilling their bones.
The room was smaller than any closet should be — cramped, suffocating, and bathed in shadows so thick they seemed alive.
From the far corner, a faint, unnatural glow pulsed like a heartbeat.
Clara stepped inside, Maya trembling at her heels.
The walls were covered in scratches — names and dates carved deep, some worn away by time, others fresh and raw.
In the middle of the floor lay a battered leather diary, its surface cracked and faded.
Clara knelt and picked it up carefully, flipping it open.
The handwriting was shaky, desperate.
"I heard my voice calling me in the night. I tried to resist, but it pulled me closer. Now I'm trapped. If you find this, don't listen. Don't answer. Run."
A sudden noise — sharp and close — made them both jump.
The door slammed shut behind them with a deafening bang.
They were trapped.
"Calm down," Maya whispered, though her voice trembled. "It's probably just the wind."
Clara tried the door handle — locked tight.
She swallowed her fear. "It's like it wants us here."
A chill crept up her spine.
The glow grew stronger, revealing more of the room. The scratches were arranged in patterns — circles and symbols that made her skin crawl.
She flipped through more pages of the diary, desperate for answers.
Another entry read:
"It watches me. It knows my fears. It takes shapes from my nightmares. I don't know how long I have left."
Maya shivered. "This is insane. We have to get out."
Clara's fingers trembled. "The door won't budge. We have to do something else."
The shadows around them began to shift, pulsing like breathing things.
A whisper slithered through the darkness:
"Stay with me…"
Clara's heart pounded louder than the whisper.
She wanted to scream, to run — but her feet wouldn't move.
Suddenly, a shadow flickered in the corner of her vision.
She spun around — nothing.
"Did you see that?" she asked breathlessly.
Maya nodded, white-knuckled.
The air grew thick, heavy with dread.
The whisper came again, this time closer:
"You belong here…"
Clara's chest tightened.
She glanced at Maya, who was biting her lip, eyes wide with terror.
The walls seemed to close in, the scratches writhing and shifting.
Clara felt tears sting her eyes.
She gritted her teeth and said, "I'm scared."
Maya's voice broke. "Me too."
For a moment, silence.
Then the shadows recoiled, like a tide retreating.
Suddenly, the door handle rattled.
They lunged for it together.
With a shuddering creak, the door swung open.
Sunlight spilled into the tiny room, washing away the shadows.
They stumbled out, breathless and shaking.
The dorm room was exactly as they'd left it — no cold, no whispers.
Only the old photo of Delilah lay on the floor.
Clara bent down and picked it up, brushing dust from the faded image.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "This isn't over."
Maya nodded, wiping her eyes. "It's just beginning."
The room settled back into silence, but Clara felt eyes watching from the corners.
She clutched the diary close.
There was more to uncover.
And she wasn't going to run this time.