The first thing Nia noticed wasn't the cold.
It was the quiet.
Boarding schools are never truly silent. There are always footsteps, distant laughter, pipes groaning through old walls.
But when Nia stepped into Dormitory Hall B of the prestigious academy in Salem, something felt… wrong.
The hallway lights flickered once.
Then steadied.
Room 213 waited at the very end of the corridor.
Last door.
No neighboring room on one side.
Just a blank stretch of wall.
Her luggage wheels echoed too loudly as she walked toward it.
A girl passing by slowed down when she saw the number on Nia's keycard.
"Two thirteen?" the girl asked quietly.
Nia nodded.
The girl hesitated.
Then walked away without another word.
The door creaked when Nia pushed it open.
Old wood. Old air.
The room looked normal. Two beds. Two desks. A tall wardrobe. A single large mirror mounted between the windows.
But the air felt heavy.
Like the room had been holding its breath.
Waiting.
Nia stepped inside.
The door shut behind her.
Not slammed.
Just… clicked.
She turned immediately.
She was sure she hadn't pushed it that hard.
Unpacking helped.
Normal things. Clothes. Books. Photos.
By evening, the room felt almost comfortable.
Her roommate hadn't arrived yet.
That was fine. Nia preferred quiet.
At 10:47 p.m., she turned off the lights.
The darkness was thicker than she expected.
Not the soft kind.
The kind that presses in.
She woke up suddenly.
No sound had woken her.
At least… none she could remember.
Her eyes adjusted slowly.
Her digital clock glowed red on the desk.
2:13 a.m.
And then she realized why she'd woken up.
There was no sound at all.
No wind outside.
No distant cars.
No heating system humming.
Nothing.
The silence felt deliberate.
Like someone had turned the world off.
Nia sat up slowly.
Her heartbeat sounded too loud in her ears.
Then—
A soft scrape.
From inside the wardrobe.
She froze.
Another scrape.
Like fabric brushing against wood.
"Nobody's in there," she whispered to herself.
She had checked earlier.
Empty.
She swung her legs off the bed.
The floor felt colder than before.
Each step toward the wardrobe felt heavier.
Halfway there—
Three slow knocks.
From inside.
Not loud.
Not violent.
Just…
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Nia's breath stopped.
Her hand hovered inches from the wardrobe handle.
She told herself it was pipes. Old buildings make noise.
She wrapped her fingers around the handle.
Pulled it open.
The wardrobe was empty.
Completely empty.
But the air inside it was warm.
Warmer than the rest of the room.
And faintly—
Very faintly—
It smelled like perfume.
Not hers.
Her clock blinked once.
2:14 a.m.
Sound rushed back into the world.
Wind outside.
A door slamming somewhere down the hall.
Someone laughing faintly.
Like nothing had happened.
Nia stood there staring into the wardrobe.
Then she slowly closed it.
When she turned around—
She saw it.
On the mirror.
Written in what looked like fog across the glass:
"You heard me."
Her blood ran cold.
The window was closed.
There was no condensation anywhere else.
Just those two words.
And as she watched…
The letters slowly faded.
As if wiped away from the inside.
The next morning, the headmistress made an announcement during assembly.
"Due to maintenance," she said calmly, "Room 213 will remain single-occupancy for the foreseeable future."
Students glanced at Nia.
Some looked sorry.
Some looked afraid.
One girl mouthed silently from across the hall:
Transfer.
Nia didn't move.
Didn't react.
But when she returned to her room later that day—
There was something new carved into the underside of her desk.
Words that hadn't been there before.
Deep.
Uneven.
Like someone had used shaking hands.
It said:
"It only starts with knocking."
And at exactly 2:13 a.m. that night—
The wardrobe door opened.
By itself.