DORM 6a

Her Voice Still Screams Rachel's scream shattered the silence, echoing down the hallway like a dying animal in its final moments. The heavy door slammed shut in her face with a deafening bang. "Traitors!" she bellowed, her voice raw and trembling with rage. "You think locking the door will protect you?" Inside the room, Clara staggered back, her breath ragged, eyes wide in disbelief. Maya crumpled to the floor, her face ghostly pale. Naomi gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles white, like the furniture was the only thing keeping her grounded. "Why did she say that?" Clara whispered, her voice shaking. Maya's voice cracked under the weight of guilt. "Because we abandoned her. Again." A faint tapping came from the other side of the door, followed by Rachel's voice. But it had changed. It was softer, colder — disturbingly calm. "Let me in, Clara… It's not safe out here." Clara blinked, her heart pounding. "That's… that's not her voice." It wasn't. It was too smooth, too composed — like it was reading a script. It wore Rachel's voice like a mask, but underneath, something ancient was peeking through. Something slow… and patient. "She said it's not safe," Naomi whispered, almost to herself. Daniel's voice cut through the silence. "Don't listen. She warned us before. That name — Eleora — it's tied to all of this." Clara's breath hitched. "She said never to say it twice…" The door handle rattled slowly. Tick. Tick. Tick. Then silence. Then a twist. The handle moved again. The lights in the corridor flickered, blinking rapidly as if warning them of something. A groan echoed through the building — not mechanical, but alive, like the dorm was breathing out centuries of dust and death. Naomi tiptoed to the window and peeked through the curtain. Her voice came out like a ghost. "Guys… look." Dark shapes gathered in the courtyard below. They weren't students. They weren't staff. They stood in crooked rows, heads tilted at unnatural angles, blank faces turned upward — directly at the window. "They've been there for a while," Naomi whispered. "And… they're multiplying." Maya covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook. "Clara… it's not just the dorm. It's the whole campus. It's... infected." A chill swept through the room. The building quaked subtly beneath their feet — not an earthquake, but something older. Something deeper. Then the door burst open. Rachel stood in the frame. Or… something that used to be Rachel. Her hair clung to her face in wet strands, her skin pale and slick with moisture. Her eyes were pitch-black, dripping with slow-moving shadows that pooled beneath her feet. Her fingers twitched, like puppet strings were being pulled from somewhere above the ceiling. But her voice — her voice was still Rachel's. Soft. Sweet. Wrong. "Do you trust me now?" No one answered. Clara's lips parted, but nothing came out. Maya crawled backwards. Daniel reached for the curtain rod like it could be a weapon. Rachel stepped inside. The air turned to ice. The lightbulbs dimmed to a sickly orange hue, like the room itself was holding its breath. "You said the name, Clara," Rachel murmured, her voice gentle, but hollow. "Now she knows you're here." Daniel swallowed. "Who is she?" Rachel's head turned slowly, eyes scanning each of them. "The one who summoned him. Eleora. She was the first offering. And now… she wants to finish what she started." Maya, trembling, found her voice. "Why us? Why now?" Rachel's eyes flicked to her, briefly. "Because you all heard the call. The same one Delilah heard. And you didn't run." Clara stepped forward, voice low. "This… this is the third drift, isn't it?" Rachel nodded once. "The first drift took Delilah. The second silenced Rachel. The third…" A loud crack sliced through the room. A fissure split the floor beneath them, running through the center like a jagged scar. "…is the beginning of the hunt," Rachel finished. Before anyone could move, the window behind Naomi shattered inward with an ear-splitting CRASH. Glass flew like razors, cutting into the walls, the beds, the air. Naomi screamed, staggering back, blood streaming from a deep gash on her arm. She collapsed, clutching the wound. Clara ran to her. "Naomi! Hold still—" Naomi's breath came in shallow bursts. "Something's… inside. I feel it. In the cut. It's cold." Rachel's smile widened. "It's starting." Maya's voice cracked. "We need to leave." But Rachel just stared at the door. "You still think the dorm will let you?" The door slammed shut again, hard enough to shake the entire room. They heard the lock click — not mechanical, but final. Then the whispers began. At first, just murmurs. Like distant voices in another room. Then louder. And closer. They came from the vents. From the floorboards. From their own minds. "Clara… Clara… open the door… say the name again…" "No," Clara whispered. "Don't say it. Don't even think it." Rachel lunged forward, grabbing Clara's wrist. Her grip was freezing. Her fingers twitched, like they were caught in a spasm. "If you don't say it," she said, her voice breaking apart, "you die." Her eyes darkened. "If you do… we all burn." Then the lights went out completely. A thick, suffocating darkness wrapped around them like a second skin. All that remained was their breathing — fast, frightened — and the hum of something ancient waking up beneath the dorm. And then… From nowhere. From everywhere. A single word was whispered: "Eleora." ---