The night was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against the ears until it hurt. Steve lay on his bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling of the dormitory. He couldn't shake off the echo from earlier that evening—the hiss, that low whisper that had sliced through the air like a knife.
"Shhh…"
It wasn't just a sound anymore. It felt like a command, a warning, or maybe even a promise.
Steve turned to his side. His roommates were asleep, their soft snores blending with the creaks of the old building. But sleep would not come to him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that white dress swaying in the forest, the girl's head bowed, her sobbing blending with the night wind. And then—silence, sudden and sharp. That was when the bullies disappeared.
Steve rubbed his face and sat up. His chest was heavy, as though something invisible sat on it. He remembered Raihan's mocking laughter earlier in the classroom. Now the bully was gone, vanished into the trees. Steve should have felt relief, maybe even satisfaction. But all he felt was dread, a bone-deep dread that made his hands tremble.
He whispered to himself, "What's happening to this city? What's happening to us?"
A creak came from the hallway. His head snapped up. It sounded like footsteps, slow and dragging, as if someone was walking barefoot on the old wooden floor.
Steve held his breath.
Step… step…
It stopped right outside his door. His eyes darted to the shadow under the crack. For a second, he thought he saw the edge of a white dress brushing against the floorboards.
Then came the knock.
Three soft knocks.
Tok… tok… tok.
Steve's heart hammered so loudly that he thought it might wake the others. He forced himself to get up. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else, shaky and numb. He reached the door, pressed his palm against the wood, and whispered, "Who's there?"
No answer.
Only silence.
And then—the voice.
"Steve…"
It was faint, broken, like a child calling for help from far away. He froze, his breath caught in his throat. He had heard that voice before. In his dreams. The same word, the same plea.
Save us.
Steve backed away, his knees bumping against the bed. He wanted to wake Liam, Maya, Tom—anyone. But something inside told him that if he made a sound, if he screamed, whatever was outside would come in.
The door creaked again. Slowly. As if someone was testing the handle.
Steve couldn't move. He felt rooted to the spot, sweat dripping down his forehead. Then, suddenly, the footsteps faded. The presence moved away, back down the hall, until the silence returned.
He stood there, frozen, for what felt like hours.
When he finally managed to breathe again, he collapsed onto his bed, pulling the blanket over his face like a child. But even under the blanket, he could still hear it. That faint crying. That broken whisper.
Steve…
Morning came with a pale gray light, and Steve looked like he hadn't slept at all. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale. He sat with his friends in the empty classroom, the same one where yesterday's argument had happened. The desks were scratched, the windows smeared with dust.
Liam leaned forward. "You look like death, man. What happened?"
Steve hesitated. His mouth was dry. He didn't want to sound crazy, but the memory of that voice wouldn't let him stay silent. "Last night… something came to my door."
Maya's eyes widened. "What do you mean something?"
Steve swallowed hard. "I heard footsteps. Knocks. And then… it called my name."
The room grew still. Even Tom, who always tried to laugh things off, looked unsettled.
Arin tapped the desk nervously. "That's not good. That's… that's really not good. My grandmother used to say when the dead call your name at night, it means they want to take you with them."
Steve glared at him. "That doesn't help."
But deep down, he knew Arin was right. The voice hadn't just been calling—it had been begging. Pleading.
Maya whispered, "Steve, this is serious. What if… what if the thing that took Raihan and his gang is now after you?"
Tom tried to calm them. "Let's not jump to ghosts and curses. Maybe someone's playing a prank." But even as he said it, his voice lacked conviction.
Steve clenched his fists. "No. It's not a prank. I've been hearing that voice for days. In my dreams. Always the same words. 'Steve, save us.'"
The silence that followed was heavy. Each of them felt the weight of his words.
Finally, Liam spoke, his tone steady but grim. "Then we don't have a choice. If this city is drowning in something dark, we can't just sit here. We have to face it."
Maya shivered. "At night?"
Steve nodded. "At night. That's when it comes. That's when it takes people."
They all looked at each other. Fear was in their eyes, but also something else—a fragile courage.
That evening, they gathered at the old tree outside the school, just as they had planned. The air was thick with mist, and the moon hung low, veiled by clouds. Each of them carried a flashlight, though their trembling hands made the beams shake.
Tom tried to lighten the mood. "Well, here we are. A bunch of idiots waiting for ghosts."
But no one laughed.
Steve's eyes were fixed on the forest. Every shadow looked alive, every rustle in the leaves made his heart race.
They walked together, their footsteps muffled by the damp ground. The forest smelled of rot and wet earth.
Then, faintly, they heard it.
Crying.
Soft. Fragile. The sound of a girl weeping in the dark.
Maya gripped Steve's arm. "It's her…"
The white figure appeared again between the trees. The same dress, the same bowed head. Her hair hung like a curtain, black and tangled.
"Steve…" the voice whispered.
Steve's breath hitched. He felt pulled toward her, as if invisible strings tugged at his chest.
Liam grabbed his shoulder. "Don't move."
But Steve couldn't help it. He took a step forward.
The girl raised her head.
Her face was pale, almost translucent. Her eyes were hollow, dark pits that seemed to stretch forever. Her mouth opened, and the sound that came out was not human. A shrill wail, a scream that cut through the night and rattled their bones.
The flashlights flickered. The air turned icy.
"Run!" Liam shouted.
They scattered, crashing through the trees. Steve's lungs burned as he ran, the scream chasing him, echoing inside his skull. Branches scratched his arms, roots caught his feet, but he didn't stop.
Behind him, he could still hear it.
Steve… save us…
The words followed him, wrapped around him, clung to him like a curse.
By the time they stumbled back to the edge of the forest, the night was still again. The crying was gone. The figure was gone. But the fear remained, etched deep in their hearts.
Steve fell to his knees, gasping. His hands trembled as he pressed them against the ground.
Liam bent over, panting. "What the hell was that thing?"
No one answered. Because none of them knew.
But Steve did know one thing—this wasn't over. Whatever was haunting him, whatever was whispering his name, it wasn't just a ghost. It wanted something.
And it would not stop until it got it.