THE GIRL IN ROOM 17 EP1 - by Peculiarpen

The first thing I noticed about the house was the silence. It wasn't the peaceful kind. It felt like the building was holding its breath. I stood in the hallway on the second floor, staring at the number on my door. 16. “Finally,” I whispered. After three exhausting weeks of searching for a place I could afford, I had finally found somewhere to stay. I dragged my suitcase inside and dropped it beside the bed. The room was small, but I didn't care. I just wanted somewhere I could start over. I was unpacking when I noticed the door beside mine. 17. Unlike the other rooms, it had a heavy padlock hanging from the outside. I stared at it for a moment. “Is that room occupied?” The landlady's voice came from behind me. I turned. She was standing at the end of the hallway. “No,” she said quickly. I hadn't even asked her yet. My eyebrows lifted. “I was just wondering.” “Don't.” Her voice was unusually firm. “Don't what?” “Wonder about Room 17.” Then she walked away. I laughed quietly. Okay. Strange. That night, I ate noodles, called my mother and went to bed early. For the first time in weeks, I felt relaxed. Until I heard three knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. I opened my eyes. My phone read 11:17 p.m. I sat up. Another three knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Who is it?” Silence. I got out of bed and walked towards the door. My hand reached for the handle. Then I stopped. Something about the silence outside felt wrong. I looked through the peephole. Nobody. I stepped back. A minute later, my phone vibrated. Unknown number. Don't open the door. I stared at the message. Then another one arrived. She knows you're awake. My heart began pounding. I slowly looked towards the bottom of my door. A shadow was standing on the other side. Someone was there. I held my breath. The shadow remained still for several seconds. Then it disappeared. I waited. Five minutes. Ten. Nothing. Eventually, exhaustion won. I fell asleep. The next morning, I went downstairs and found the landlady in the kitchen. “Who lives in Room 17?” She froze. Then she turned around slowly. “Nobody.” “But someone knocked on my door last night.” Her face changed. “You heard knocking?” “Yes.” She stared at me for a long moment. Then she lowered her voice. “Listen to me carefully. If you hear knocking again tonight, don't answer.” “Why?” She didn't respond. She simply walked away. I should have listened. That evening, I returned to my room and noticed something lying on the floor. A photograph. I picked it up. It showed two young girls standing in front of the building. One of them was smiling. The other was looking directly at the camera. I didn't recognize either of them. I turned the photograph over. There was a date written on the back. Seven years ago. And beneath it, two words: ROOM 17. I looked towards the hallway. The padlock on Room 17 was gone. And the door was slowly opening.

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