Chapter 26: Room 447

Lena had heard the rumors about Room 447 before moving in, but she never believed in ghost stories. The university dormitory was old, sure, but so were most of the buildings on campus. If every creaky floorboard and flickering light meant a place was haunted, then the whole city would be full of ghosts.

Still, her first night was unsettling.

She woke at 3:12 a.m. to a faint scratching sound against the wall. The room was dark except for the dim glow of her laptop screen in sleep mode. Squinting, she saw faint letters written on the wall above her desk, smudged as if done in a hurry:

LEAVE NOW.

Her pulse raced. She grabbed her phone and turned on the flashlight. The words looked like they had been drawn in charcoal. But who could have written them? The door was locked. The windows were shut. It had to be a prank.

She wiped the message away, telling herself it was nothing.

But the next night, something else happened. Her chair was overturned. Her books were scattered. Another message had appeared, this time on her mirror:

447 ISN'T SAFE.

Lena's stomach twisted. Someone was messing with her. But who? And why?

She needed answers.

After digging through the university's online archives, she found something disturbing. Nearly ten years ago, a student named Erin Cho had lived in Room 447. She had vanished without a trace. Officially, she was declared missing, but rumors suggested something worse—that she had been driven insane.

Lena's breath caught as she found an old forum post. Erin had complained about the same things—objects moving, creepy messages. She had even reported it to campus security, convinced someone was targeting her. The last thing she ever wrote, in an email to a friend, was chilling:

I think I know who's behind this. I think they're watching me.

Then, silence. Erin was never heard from again.

Lena's unease turned to fear. This wasn't a ghost—it was a person. Someone who had done this before. And they were still here.

That night, she set a trap. She left her laptop camera recording while she pretended to sleep.

At 3:12 a.m., movement. A shadowy figure slipped into the room—without opening the door.

Her blood ran cold. The person moved quickly, scrawling another message onto the wall before disappearing again.

Lena watched the footage over and over, looking for clues. Then she saw it—the faint outline of a panel shifting in the back of her closet.

A hidden passage.

The next night, she armed herself with a flashlight and a kitchen knife. She pushed aside her hanging clothes and pressed on the wooden panel. It slid open, revealing a narrow crawlspace. The air was thick with dust, carrying the scent of old wood and decay.

She stepped inside.

The passage led to a small, forgotten room filled with old student belongings. But the thing that made her breath hitch was the board on the far wall, covered in photographs.

Pictures of Erin.

Pictures of Lena.

And then she saw it—a picture taken just last week. A photo of her, sitting at her desk.

From inside her own room.

A floorboard creaked behind her.

She spun around as a shadow shifted in the darkness. A voice whispered, low and familiar:

"You were never supposed to find this."

And then the lights went out.

Lena's scream barely left her throat before something cold clamped over her mouth. She struggled, heart pounding, twisting against the grip of unseen hands. A breath, warm and slow, ghosted against her ear.

"Shh," the voice murmured. "It'll be over soon."

Adrenaline surged through her. With a wild jerk, she yanked herself free and stumbled backward, crashing into a stack of old boxes. Dust exploded into the air. She gasped, coughing, scrambling for her flashlight. The beam flickered, landing on a figure half-hidden in the shadows.

A man. Dressed in black, face partially obscured by the hood of his sweatshirt. But his eyes—Lena saw them clearly. Wide. Intense. Familiar.

"I—" Her voice wavered. "Who are you?"

The man tilted his head, as if considering the question. Then, almost playfully, he asked, "Who do you think?"

Lena's fingers tightened around the flashlight, her mind racing. If he could get in and out of Room 447 through the hidden passage, that meant he had access to the dorm. Maybe he had been there all along—watching, waiting.

The realization sent a fresh wave of terror through her. "You were here before, weren't you?" she whispered. "You did this to Erin."

A smile curled at the edge of his lips. "Smart girl."

She didn't wait for him to make a move. With every ounce of strength she had, she hurled the flashlight at his face and bolted toward the crawlspace opening. She could hear him curse, hear his footsteps pounding after her as she threw herself into the narrow passage and scrambled forward, ignoring the pain as splinters dug into her palms and knees.

He was close. Too close.

Lena reached the exit just as his hand closed around her ankle.

"No!" she shrieked, kicking wildly. Her foot connected with something solid—a grunt of pain—and the grip loosened. She yanked herself free, tumbled out of the closet, and slammed the panel shut just as he lunged.

Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.

Lena pressed her back against the door, her chest heaving. Her hands trembled as she fumbled for her phone, dialing the emergency number with shaking fingers.

Footsteps retreated into the crawlspace.

Then, nothing.

By the time campus security arrived, the hidden passage was empty. The photos on the wall were gone. The room looked untouched.

But Lena knew better.

Whoever he was, he wasn't done with her.

The next night, she couldn't sleep. Every sound—every whisper of the wind outside—made her tense. The university allowed her to switch rooms, but it didn't help. The sense of being watched never left her.

Then the messages started again. Not in charcoal this time, but in her notebooks, in her textbooks—written in tiny, precise letters.

I found you again.

Lena packed her bags. She wasn't waiting around to see what happened next.

As she left campus, she glanced back at the dorm one last time. Room 447's window was dark.

But she swore she saw a shadow move behind the glass.

Room 447 was no longer just a rumor.

It was a warning. And it wasn't over yet.