Chris's fingers trembled on the cold metal handle. He could feel it — the lock turning, the bolt inside the door sliding back with a soft, final click.
Behind him, the hallway seemed to pulse with something alive — the walls expanding and shrinking like lungs dragging in stale air.
His ears filled with that sound again — a wet giggle, broken words slipping through the cracks in his mind.
"Chris… open up… I'm waiting…"
A single drop of sweat slid down his neck, cold as ice. He tried to step back, but his hand wouldn't move. It felt welded to the door, like the phone had melted its control into his bones.
He could feel something on the other side. Not footsteps — something dragging, scraping against the floor. Long fingernails? A chain? He didn't know — but it was getting closer.
He squeezed his eyes shut. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw her face — pale skin stitched at the lips, hair dripping like river weeds. And the eyes — cloudy, grey, endless.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
The sound didn't come from the phone anymore — it came from inside his head. Each ring was like a heartbeat, each pulse pushing him closer to the edge.
He took a deep breath, his lips cracked and dry.
"Stop," he whispered to the door. "Please, just stop."
But the knocking grew harder — now fists pounding wood so hard the door shuddered.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Then silence.
Chris leaned forward, ear pressed to the wood. He heard nothing — just his own blood in his head, the distant hum of the broken hallway lights.
Then — a single, soft whisper: "Now."
Before he could pull back, something on the other side hit the door — so hard the wood bent inward. Chris fell back, landing on his side, pain shooting through his ribs.
The door swung open by itself. The night wind rushed in — or what should have been wind. But it wasn't cold air — it was warm, thick, smelling of damp earth and old water.
Chris forced himself to sit up. His vision blurred. Shapes moved in the darkness outside — flickers of shadows crossing the doorway.
His phone vibrated near his foot — screen cracked, battery nearly dead but still alive enough to flicker one final message:
"She's inside now."
He looked up. The hallway behind him was empty. But as he stared, the shadows thickened — crawling along the walls, dripping down the ceiling like black oil.
The smell grew stronger — rot and river mud.
He pushed himself to his feet, backing away from the open door. His shoulder hit the hallway wall — but the wall felt soft, like skin. He jerked away. A handprint — pale and wet — spread across the plaster where he'd touched it.
A voice whispered beside his ear — so close he felt the cold breath:
"Chris… did you forget me?"
He spun around — no one.
But then he heard it — the closet door upstairs. It slammed shut by itself. A child's laugh trickled down the stairwell like water dripping from a broken tap.
Chris stumbled backward, almost falling over his own feet. His eyes darted around for an exit — but the only way out was the open front door, and he knew if he stepped through, he wouldn't be leaving alone.
He grabbed the phone. The screen flared — showing him a new image. A photo he didn't take: himself sleeping, mouth open, the ghost girl crouched at the foot of his bed, her fingers brushing his ankle.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
The phone spoke, the speaker crackling with a voice that was both his and hers:
"You brought me here, Chris. Answer me, or I'll answer for you."
The lights overhead popped — sparks rained down. Shadows danced across the floor, forming the shape of her — hair dangling, stitched mouth grinning open, threads snapping one by one.
Chris backed into the wall again, breath shallow, chest tight.
He could feel her behind him now — her hands on his shoulders, her cold nails brushing his neck.
The phone buzzed, and in the broken light he read the last message before it died:
"It's your turn to knock."
Chris opened his mouth to scream — but her fingers pressed against his lips from behind, icy and damp. The last thing he heard was her voice in his ear, soft as silk:
"Goodnight, Chris."
The hallway lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the dorm.