Zara didn't sleep that night.
Not after what she saw.
The video haunted her, looping endlessly in her thoughts. The grainy footage. The pale girl sobbing. Cain stepping into the frame with that cold voice: "Don't scream, Maddie."
It wasn't just the content. It was the timestamp—three years ago, same date. October 13th.
Today was October 13th.
A coincidence? Not in Dorm 304.
The morning sunlight spilled into the room like an unwanted guest. Zara sat on her bed, USB drive in hand. She stared at the door, waiting.
When Cain finally returned, his hoodie was wet with dew, his hair a mess of wind-tossed strands. He paused in the doorway, immediately sensing the tension.
"You watched it."
Zara didn't answer. She stood and held the USB between them like a weapon.
"What the hell is this, Cain?"
He sighed, then shut the door behind him. His face was pale.
"Where did you find it?"
"In my backpack. After you told me to stay out of it."
"I didn't put it there."
"Then who did?"
Cain was silent.
Zara's voice rose. "That's you in the video! And that girl—Madeline Quinn—she's scared of you."
Cain sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his eyes. "You don't understand what you saw."
"Then make me understand."
He looked up at her. His eyes weren't cold now. They were tired, almost broken.
"I didn't hurt her," he said. "I was trying to protect her."
"From what?"
He hesitated, then said softly, "From the room."
Zara sat across from him. "What happened to her?"
Cain leaned back. "She started sleepwalking. Hearing voices. Seeing things no one else saw. At first, everyone thought it was trauma or stress. Her parents pulled her from classes. She spent most of her time here, in 304. And then... she wasn't Madeline anymore."
"What do you mean?"
Cain's voice trembled. "She started calling herself someone else. Said her body wasn't hers. That something had moved in."
Zara swallowed. "Possession?"
"I don't know what it was. But it wasn't her. One night, she almost threw herself from the window. I stopped her. That's what the video shows—me keeping her from screaming and waking the hall. She begged me not to let anyone take her away."
Zara's grip on the USB loosened.
"So what happened to her?"
Cain looked down. "She disappeared. They never found her body. Just her shoes by the lake. And a note."
"What did it say?"
He closed his eyes. "This room is still hungry."
Later that day, Zara visited the Student Counseling Center.
She lied about her identity. Claimed to be researching a paper on past mental health cases in campus housing.
The counselor, a young man with fading patience, pulled up a redacted file.
Zara leaned in.
"Madeline Quinn. Sophomore. Missing. Initial signs of schizophrenia, auditory hallucinations, dissociative identity behavior... but no prior history. Just snapped, according to reports."
Zara pressed, "Was she ever diagnosed officially?"
"No. Just disappeared. The file was closed."
"Why was she in 304?"
The counselor frowned. "That room's seen... things. Quietly blacklisted now. But back then, no one knew—or pretended not to."
Zara stood. Her blood ran cold.
"Do you know anyone named Elise?" she asked on instinct.
He blinked. "Elise Rivers? The one who tried to burn down the south dorm wing?"
Zara froze.
That night, Cain wasn't in the room when she returned.
But Elise was.
Sitting on Zara's bed like she belonged there.
"You didn't tell me you watched the tape," Elise said.
Zara locked the door behind her. "You put it in my bag."
"You needed to see it."
"What the hell is going on here, Elise? Why me?"
Elise smiled. "Because it likes you. You're new. You haven't cracked yet."
"You tried to burn this place down?"
Her smile faded. "I tried to kill it. But it doesn't die. It just... moves on."
"To who?"
Elise stood. Walked to the window. "It started with the twins in 1984. One slit her throat, the other clawed her eyes out. They say she was whispering to someone in the wall."
Zara shook her head. "You're insane."
Elise turned. Her eyes glinted. "No. I'm just no longer lying to myself."
Zara backed away. "Get out."
"Be careful with Cain." Elise stepped toward the door. "He's not lying. But he's not telling you everything either."
She left without another word.
Cain returned after midnight.
His hoodie was torn at the shoulder. There were fresh scratches along his arms.
"Where were you?" Zara asked.
"I went to the lake."
She stood, blocking his path. "I need the truth. All of it."
He looked at her, something wild and desperate behind his eyes. "You won't believe it."
"Try me."
Cain hesitated, then pulled a small notebook from his pocket. He handed it to her.
"This was Madeline's. Read the last page."
Zara flipped through shaking hands. The final entry was jagged, as if written in a panic:
It's not the room. It's the boy. He keeps it fed.
Zara looked up, horrified.
Cain shook his head. "I didn't hurt her. But I knew. I saw what the room wanted. And I let her stay."
"Why?"
"Because she begged me not to tell."
Zara's knees gave out. She sank onto the bed.
Cain sat beside her. He reached for her hand.
"Everything I do, I do to keep others from ending up like her."
Their hands touched. His fingers wrapped around hers.
"Then let me help," Zara said.
Cain leaned forward, his forehead brushing hers. For one electric moment, everything else vanished. The fear. The lies. The mystery.
Their lips met.
But just as quickly, the moment shattered—
BANG!
A scream echoed from down the hall.
Cain jumped up. Zara followed.
Students were pouring into the hallway.
"Someone check the showers!" someone yelled.
Cain ran. Zara followed.
They found the janitor already on the phone, his face pale. A girl was slumped by the showers, blood dripping from her scalp, her eyes wide with shock.
"It's happening again," Cain whispered.
Zara's stomach turned.
On the mirror, written in lipstick, was a message:
Zara Quinn is next.