“My senior's red slippers have been heard in the women's restroom for ten years. Today, it's finally my turn.”
The school has made it clear: At midnight, never go near the third women's restroom stall.
But I'm on duty, and I'm locked in the school building. A swollen, gray-white hand slowly reaches out from under a stall door.
“Is anyone there? I can't find my slippers...” A chilling woman's voice seeps through the door. I scream and slam open the restroom door
Only to tumble into a basement covered with photos of missing female students.
In the newest photo, my terrified face is labeled “Death in three days.”
Now, the familiar patter comes from the ventilation duct overhead.
Wet... dragging... It knows I'm hiding.
It counts my breaths, waiting to take my life in three days.
