It was only 7:45 AM, but St. Elora's High already buzzed with the dull roar of feet, gossip, and the sound of last-minute homework scribbles.
Ananya Sen, with her sketchbook hugged tight to her chest, walked through the gates wearing her oversized blazer and a look that said she'd rather be invisible.
First day. New school. No friends.
Perfect.
She stepped into the corridor, instantly drawing attention. Not for being loud, flashy, or dramatic. But for how quiet she was. People whispered: "That's the girl from Delhi, right?" … "Transferred in the middle of the term? Weird." … "I heard she had a breakdown or something."
She didn't care. Or maybe she pretended not to.
What she did care about was the unmarked corridor she had passed that morning — the one that curved near the old staffroom. It had no windows. Just a rusted metal door with the number 47 scraped off and repainted poorly.
No one else even looked at it.
---
In class, Ananya was assigned the last bench next to Kabir Sharma, a boy with restless fingers and headphones hidden under his hoodie.
"Hi," she said quietly.
Kabir raised an eyebrow. "You'll get bored here."
"I already am."
He smirked. "Cool."
At lunch, a girl with two braids and an angry diary sat across from her.
"I'm Diya," she said. "Don't trust anyone here. Especially the teachers who smile too much."
Ananya blinked. "Okay."
"You see that room near the old staff room?" Diya asked suddenly.
Ananya nodded slowly.
"Don't go near it."
"Why?"
Before Diya could answer, a voice behind them cut through the cafeteria air.
"Some doors stay closed for a reason."
Rishi, tall, prefect badge gleaming, placed his tray next to them. His eyes, though calm, watched Ananya like he was measuring her presence.
"You're brave," he said. "Or stupid. Let's see how long you last."
---
That night, Ananya opened her sketchbook and began drawing.
A rusted door.
A shadowy figure watching.
A whisper behind it: "Nobody saw me."
She paused.
That wasn't her thought.
Where had she heard that before?
Continued in chapter 2....