Four remained.
The basement changed everything.
Since that night, none of them slept. Faizan was gone, and all that remained was the red ribbon — the same one worn by Meera in the photo. Aryan kept it in his notebook, hoping it might mean something… or warn them of what was coming next.
But the hostel had started whispering.
Not in dreams — in real life.
Walls murmured. Doors sighed. Mirrors wept. And sometimes, at night, Aryan would hear footsteps above his room… even though no one lived on the top floor anymore.
One evening, Vishal snapped.
"I'm done hiding. We need to end this."
"How?" Kabir asked. "We don't even know what it wants."
"She wants us to remember," Aryan said softly, "and to pay."
"What if we gave her what she wants?" Deepak suggested.
Everyone turned toward him.
"We go back down there. Finish what those boys started. Maybe then, she'll stop."
They waited until midnight. Then, with candles and rope, they descended into the basement once more.
But this time… the basement wasn't empty.
In the farthest corner, they found something new — a wooden floorboard that looked… fresh. As if someone had recently sealed something underneath it.
Aryan stepped forward and knelt, prying it open.
The smell hit them first — rotting cloth, old blood, and… perfume.
Beneath the plank was a shallow grave.
Inside it — bones. Small, fragile… and curled into a fetal position. Still wearing the remains of a school uniform.
The red ribbon was tied to the wrist.
Meera.
Aryan fell back in horror. "They buried her here…"
"No," Vishal whispered, his eyes wide. "They hid her here."
Suddenly, the candles blew out.
From behind them, a girl's voice whispered:
"You found me."
The light returned for just a second — and she was standing there.
Not bloody. Not violent.
Just… sad.
Her eyes were still scratched out.
She lifted a finger and pointed at them one by one.
"Four…"
The ground shook.
The boys ran, but Deepak stumbled, screaming as something pulled him back into the dark — fingers of shadow, wrapping around his throat.
Aryan tried to grab him, but it was too late.
The basement door slammed shut.
Three escaped.
The others cried. But Aryan? He just stared at the red ribbon in his hand, now pulsing with heat.
"She's not just punishing us," he whispered. "She's remembering."