The storm had passed, but the air still felt heavy. The kind of stillness that meant the world was holding its breath.
Tina hadn't left her dorm since the night before. The words carved into her floor — WELCOME HOME — still burned in her mind. She had tried to tell herself it was a prank, that someone had broken in and done it to scare her. But deep down she knew no one could've nailed the floorboards shut while she slept. No one human, anyway.
By morning, she forced herself to move. She had to see Liam. He was the only one who didn't look at her like she was crazy.
The halls were different today. The lights hummed softer, and the walls seemed to pulse with faint movement, as if the school itself was breathing. Every few steps, Tina thought she heard something behind her — footsteps that stopped when she turned. Whispers that sank back into the plaster.
She found Liam in the library. He was hunched over a stack of dusty records, the kind that looked like they hadn't been touched in decades.
"I found something," he said quietly, without looking up.
Tina's throat was dry. "What kind of something?"
He slid a thin, yellowed page across the table. It was a photo — cracked, faded, but clear enough to make her heart stop.
The girl in the photo looked exactly like her. Same eyes. Same hair. Same scar just beneath her jawline.
"This was taken in 1961," Liam said. "Her name was Christina Ward. She lived in the St. Mary's orphanage — the one that stood here before they turned it into the school."
Tina's fingers shook as she touched the photo. "That's impossible. That can't be me."
"I thought so too," Liam said. "But listen to this." He unfolded a file — patient notes from the old hospital records. "It says she died during something called 'The Renewal Project.' It was supposed to be a medical experiment. But it was more like… resurrection."
Tina blinked. "Resurrection?"
He nodded slowly. "They were trying to bring children back from the dead. The Church funded it. But every subject died again — except one."
The air grew cold.
Tina whispered, "Me."
Before Liam could answer, a sound rippled through the library.
Thump… thump… thump.
It came from the walls — deep, rhythmic, like a heartbeat. Then came the whispering. Hundreds of voices, layered over each other, echoing through the plaster.
Tina… Tina… you remember us…
Liam grabbed her arm. "We have to go."
But the lights went out.
---
In the darkness, the voices grew louder. Pages flew from the shelves. The air filled with dust, and through it, she could see faint shapes forming — the outlines of children. Their eyes hollow, their mouths moving in silent cries.
Liam tried to pull her toward the door, but the floorboards buckled. One of the ghosts reached for him, its hand brushing his shoulder. He gasped and fell to his knees.
"Tina…" His voice trembled. "They're showing me things—"
She knelt beside him, gripping his hand. "Liam, look at me!"
But he didn't seem to hear her. His eyes stared past her, into the dark. "They were starving. Locked under the floor. The doctors said it was mercy… but it wasn't. It wasn't."
Tina felt tears sting her eyes. "Liam, stop—"
He screamed. Not in pain, but in terror, as though something had opened inside his mind. The shadows swallowed him for a moment, and when they released him, he was shaking, his face pale as paper.
"They said you were one of them," he whispered. "You died here too."
The silence that followed was deafening.
---
Later, Tina wandered the halls alone. The lights were dim, the air colder than before. Every door she passed creaked open just slightly, as though the school were watching her.
She reached the east wing — the part of the building that had been locked for years. The door was chained shut, but the chains hung loose now, broken as if something had forced its way out.
Beyond it, the hallway sloped downward. Damp air rose from below, carrying a smell like soil and old iron. She descended the steps, one hand brushing the wall. It was warm to the touch.
At the bottom was a door marked Basement Ward C.
She pushed it open.
Rows of iron beds lined the room. Rusted IV stands. Stained sheets still folded. And at the far end, an old chalkboard with faded words:
"Those who wake must serve."
Tina's breath hitched. The whispers were everywhere now — inside the walls, the ceiling, the floor. She covered her ears, but they were inside her head.
> "You promised us."
"You said you'd come back."
"You left us in the dark."
Tina fell to her knees. The floor beneath her pulsed again — that same heartbeat she'd felt the night before. She screamed, pounding her fists against it.
"What do you want from me?"
A voice — a child's voice — whispered right beside her ear.
> "We want you to remember."
The walls began to drip with water. No, not water — tears. Every brick cried. Every corner sighed. The air shimmered, and for a heartbeat, she saw it: a glimpse of herself as a little girl, surrounded by the other children. She was holding their hands. Leading them toward a blinding light. Then the vision shattered.
She collapsed, sobbing. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
The whispers softened. The walls stilled. For the first time since she'd arrived, the school was quiet.
And somewhere deep below, a single bell rang — slow, mournful, final.
---
In the morning, Liam found her asleep on the cold basement floor. He tried to wake her, but she didn't stir. Her lips were parted just slightly, whispering something over and over again.
He leaned closer to hear.
"They remember me… and now I remember them .