Lina moved quietly between the rows, gathering stray pencils and crumpled worksheets. The air felt heavier than usual, the silence almost pressing in on her as she stacked the last of the books. Dust motes danced in the fading light, and the clock’s ticking seemed unnaturally loud.

Mary, who had returned to fetch her forgotten notebook, paused at the doorway. She watched Lina work, feeling a strange unease settle over her. The world outside seemed a million miles away, as if the classroom existed in its own quiet bubble.

Mary froze, her heart racing as she heard it—"Pssst... help me..." The words seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, slipping through the air like mist. She glanced at Lina, whose eyes widened in shock.

"Did you hear that too?" "Yes... I think it came from the supply closet," Mary whispered, her voice trembling. The closet door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness within, as if inviting them closer.

Lina hesitated before reaching out, her hand shaking as she moved a box aside. Beneath it, a small, battered journal lay open, its pages fluttering as if stirred by an unseen hand. The whisper came again, softer but clearer this time—"Please, read my story..."

"Who could have left this here?" "I don’t know, but maybe we’re supposed to find out," Lina murmured, turning the pages. As they began to read, the story within seemed to come alive, weaving their fate with the secrets left behind in the empty classroom.