Room 317 was quiet.
Too quiet.
Anaya sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on her knees, eyes half-closed. The corridor inside her slept like a coiled shadow, breathing softly with her own lungs. Every inhale kept it calm. Every exhale held it back.
Outside, Ravenspire Hostel felt normal for the first time in years.
Students walked freely.
Doors no longer slammed.
Walls no longer listened.
Even the night air felt lighter.
But silence has its own language.
And Anaya had learned to hear it.
At exactly 12:17 a.m., her chest tightened.
Not pain.
Movement.
Something shifted inside her ribs.
Anaya opened her eyes.
The room felt longer.
The far wall seemed farther away than before, stretched like a bad memory trying to return. The single bulb above her flickered once.
Then twice.
Anaya stood slowly.
"No," she whispered.
The corridor inside her stirred.
A pulse traveled through her veins that wasn't blood. It was memory. It was hunger waking up.
She placed her palm against the wall.
It was warm.
Breathing.
Just barely.
Anaya felt it — the same sensation she had felt the first night she arrived.
The building was listening again.
Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye.
She stepped closer.
The girl staring back wasn't moving exactly when she did.
Anaya lifted her hand.
The reflection smiled first.
Her stomach dropped.
Behind her reflection, the mirror's background changed.
It wasn't Room 317 anymore.
It was a hallway.
Long.
White.
Endless.
Lights buzzing softly overhead.
The Whispering Corridor.
A sound brushed the inside of Anaya's skull.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Curious.
Familiar.
Loving.
"Anaya…"
She staggered back from the mirror, heart hammering.
"No. You're asleep. I locked you."
The whisper slid through her breath.
"Locks rust."
The bulb shattered.
Darkness flooded the room.
The walls creaked, stretching inches wider than before. The floor trembled like something underneath was turning over in its sleep.
Anaya clutched her chest, feeling the corridor coil tighter, heavier, pressing against her bones from the inside.
She dropped to her knees.
"Stay inside me," she begged.
"I'm here. I remember."
For a moment—
Everything stopped.
Silence pressed against her ears.
Then, from somewhere far inside the building, a door opened.
Slowly.
Softly.
Click.
Anaya's eyes widened.
Because she recognized the sound.
It wasn't any door.
It was the sound of chains falling.
Of 317B unlocking itself.
The corridor inside her didn't scream.
It smiled.
And from the walls, gentle as breath against skin, the hostel whispered once more —
"Stay."
Anaya realized, with terrifying clarity,
She had not imprisoned the corridor.
She had only taught it where to live.
And this time…
It already knew her name.