PART 2 — "Don't Look Under the Bed"
Lila's fingernails scraped uselessly against the floor as she dragged herself forward, desperate to escape the cold grip around her ankle. The hand was thin, skeletal, and impossibly strong—its fingers wrapping around her skin like metal clamps.
"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice breaking.
But the thing beneath the bed only tightened its grip, pulling her inch by inch toward the shadows below.
The dark gap under the mattress looked like the open mouth of a cave—pitch black, silent, swallowing all light.
And from inside that darkness, the voice came again.
Not whispering now.
Laughing.
A low, broken laugh that sounded like someone who hadn't used their vocal cords in years.
"Come down… Lila… It's so lonely down here…"
"No!" she clawed at the doorframe, fingers locking onto the metal edge. Pain tore down her arm as the creature yanked harder.
Her shoulder felt like it would rip out of its socket.
"HELP!" she screamed. "Somebody HELP!"
The hall outside her room was quiet. Empty. No footsteps. No witnesses.
No help.
Just the creature's laughter echoing off the underside of her bed.
Her vision blurred with panic. Her chest tightened. She was being dragged—hard.
Her nails tore. Skin ripped. Blood smeared across the tiles.
The hand jerked again, and her body lurched backward.
The shadows swallowed half her leg.
No.
No.
No.
She had one chance.
With her free foot, she kicked—wildly, desperately—at the arm pulling her.
Her heel slammed into bone.
Crack.
The hand recoiled for a fraction of a second.
It was all she needed.
She yanked herself forward with everything she had, throwing her weight toward the door. The creature's grip slipped just enough for her to wrench her ankle free.
She scrambled up and staggered into the hallway—
Slamming the door shut behind her.
She collapsed against it, gasping, chest rising and falling like she was drowning in air.
Her ankle throbbed, bruised and burning with cold where the hand had touched her.
But it was over.
She was out.
She was safe.
Then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The knocking started from the other side of the door.
But this time… it wasn't the floor.
It was knocking at the height of her face.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Slow and deliberate.
She held her breath.
And the voice—muffled by the wooden door—spoke clearly:
"Lila… let me out."
She ran.
Barefoot. Crying. Limping.
She sprinted down the corridor and toward the elevator, slamming the call button repeatedly while her entire body trembled uncontrollably. The elevator took too long—every second stretching into agony.
Behind her, the hallway was silent.
But she knew it was not empty.
Something was watching.
Something was waiting.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open.
She rushed inside, slammed the "close door" button, and only when the doors sealed shut did she finally collapse against the back wall, shaking violently.
Her phone—still in the room—was gone.
Her bag—gone.
Her keys—gone.
It didn't matter.
She needed to get out of this building.
The elevator descended to the ground floor as slow as a dying heartbeat.
When the doors finally opened, she burst out and ran straight to the security office.
Security Room
The night guard, Mr. Reyes, jolted upright when he saw her.
"Miss Hale?" he said, rushing over. "What happened?"
"There's—someone—in my room!" she gasped. "Under my bed! It grabbed me—I need help—I need you to come with me—please—please—"
Her words poured out like broken glass, cutting her throat with every breath.
Mr. Reyes grabbed his radio and keys.
"Stay here," he said firmly. "I'm going to check your room."
"No!" Lila clutched his arm. "You can't go alone—"
"I'll be fine," he said. "You're safe with me."
But Lila didn't believe that.
Not anymore.
Still, she was too exhausted to argue.
He left the office.
She sat on a chair, hugging herself, trying not to cry again.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Mr. Reyes didn't return.
Her stomach twisted with dread.
She stood, trembling.
No.
No, no, no—
She cracked the door open and stepped into the hallway.
"Mr. Reyes?" she whispered.
No reply.
Only the soft hum of the building's old ventilation system.
Determined not to be alone anymore, she forced herself to walk toward the elevator again. Her ankle protested with every step, throbbing painfully.
The elevator door was still open, exactly how he had left it.
She stepped inside.
Pressed the button for the third floor.
The doors closed.
As the elevator began to rise, the lights overhead flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then went pitch-black.
The elevator jerked violently.
"No—no no—"
The emergency lights snapped on, bathing the small metal box in sick red glow.
Lila hugged her arms to her chest, heart pounding so loudly she could hear it echo.
Then she noticed something.
There were fingerprints on the metal wall.
Long. Thin.
Dragged upward.
As though someone had been pulled into the ceiling.
She stepped backward—
And her heel landed on something soft.
She screamed—
And spun around.
On the floor behind her—
Mr. Reyes' security cap lay neatly in the center of the elevator.
She stared at it, frozen.
There was no blood.
No scratches.
No sign of a struggle.
Just the cap.
Carefully placed.
The elevator doors opened on the third floor.
Her third floor.
Dormitory C.
The hallway in front of her was dark—lights flickering weakly like they were trying to stay alive.
But the worst part wasn't the darkness.
It was the unmistakable sound coming from the far end of the hall.
A wet, ragged exhale.
Breathing.
The same breathing she had heard under her bed.
But louder now.
Closer.
She stumbled backward into the elevator, slamming the "close door" button again and again—
But the doors didn't move.
They stayed open.
The breathing grew louder.
And then she saw it.
A shape—low to the ground—crawling out of the shadows.
Not walking.
Crawling.
Like it had too many joints.
Or not enough bones.
Its limbs scraped across the tiles, impossibly long.
Its head dragged behind its body like it was too heavy to lift.
And as it crawled closer, its voice rasped:
"Lila… you climbed out of bed too early…"
She screamed—hoarse, raw, desperate.
But the elevator still refused to close.
The creature reached the edge of the elevator doorway and stopped.
Its face—if it could be called a face—was hidden behind long, uneven strands of hair.
Slowly, very slowly, it lifted its head.
Two dark, sunken eyes stared directly into hers.
Its jaw cracked open—
And a familiar voice came out.
Her own.
"Come back to bed, Lila."
The elevator doors suddenly snapped shut—
But not before one of its long, pale fingers slid inside.
The doors jerked violently as the creature tried to pry them open—
Metal screamed. Sparks flew.
The elevator shuddered.
"NO!" She kicked the finger with all her strength—
It bent backward with a sickening crack—
The creature shrieked—
And the doors slammed completely shut.
The elevator plummeted downward.
Lila screamed as the emergency brakes screeched—
metal grinding—
the whole box shaking violently—
Then—
Impact.
Her world went black.
Lila woke up in a hospital bed.
Bright lights. Clean sheets. An IV in her arm.
A nurse smiled at her gently.
"You're safe," she said. "You were found unconscious in the dorm elevator. No major injuries, just shock and dehydration."
Lila sat up slowly.
It's over, she told herself.
It's finally over.
But then—
The nurse's expression shifted.
Almost… confused.
"You kept repeating something while you were unconscious," she said.
"A name, I think."
Lila's heart stopped.
"What… what name?"
The nurse hesitated.
Then whispered:
"Mina."
Lila stared.
"Mina?" she repeated. "My roommate?"
The nurse nodded.
"You said she… never made it out from under the bed."
Lila's blood ran cold.
"What?" she whispered. "Mina's gone home for break—"
The nurse frowned.
"No… Miss Hale."
She picked up the patient chart, double-checking.
"Your roommate, Mina Clarke, was reported missing three days ago. The police found signs of a struggle in your dorm room. Blood under the bed. Scratch marks. They questioned your neighbors, but no one saw her leave."
Lila shook her head violently.
"No—no—she texted me last night—she called security for me—she—"
Her phone wasn't with her.
Her bag wasn't with her.
Nothing was with her.
The nurse squeezed her hand gently.
"Miss Hale… whoever texted you… it wasn't Mina."
The lights in the hospital room flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then her phone—placed on the bedside table—turned on by itself.
A new message popped up on the screen.
From Mina.
I'm still under the bed, Lila.
Why did you leave me?
Lila screamed.