The night was still as Praew sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, the fragile diary of Kanya resting in her lap. The brittle pages were covered in elegant yet desperate handwriting, each word pulling her deeper into a story of sorrow and betrayal. Kanya's life, her pain, and her pact with a mysterious force seemed to seep through the diary like poison.
Praew's mind raced as she pieced together the fragments of Kanya's tale. The mention of a specific classroom—Room 13—stuck out like a beacon, its name scrawled repeatedly in the diary. That room, long sealed after a devastating fire, held the answers she needed.
The following day at school, Praew confided in her closest friends. "We have to go to Room 13," she said, her voice low but firm.
Meen, one of her loyal and level-headed friends, frowned. "That room's been closed for years. They say it's cursed."
Tan, ever the skeptic, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Curses are just stories to scare kids. But... if this doll is really connected to Kanya, maybe that room holds something important."
Pim, the most cautious of the group, hesitated. "I don't like this. What if we make things worse?"
Praew shook her head. "We can't stop now. The doll—Kanya—wants something. If we don't figure this out, who knows what might happen?"
Reluctantly, they agreed to join her that night.
---
The abandoned wing of the school was a place no one dared to go. A heavy iron gate barred entry, rusted shut from decades of disuse. Under the cover of darkness, Praew and her friends pried it open with a crowbar Tan had borrowed from his father. The screech of metal against metal echoed ominously in the still night air.
The corridor beyond was suffocatingly dark, the weak beams of their flashlights barely piercing the thick gloom. The walls were cracked, and faint scorch marks hinted at the fire that had ravaged this part of the school.
"Creepy doesn't even begin to cover this," Meen muttered, her grip tightening on her flashlight.
They reached the door to Room 13, its once-bright plaque now faded and blackened. Praew hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Her heart pounded in her chest as though warning her to turn back, but she pushed the door open.
The room was frozen in time. Dust covered every surface, and the faint scent of burnt wood lingered in the air. Desks were scattered as if abandoned in a hurry, and the blackboard still bore faint chalk marks, their meaning long forgotten.
At the center of the room was what drew their eyes: a large symbol etched into the floor, its intricate patterns surrounded by ancient Thai script. The symbol, now faint and worn, seemed to hum with a presence that made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end.
Praew knelt beside it, her fingers brushing the edges of the carved lines. "This is it," she whispered. "This is where Kanya's pact was made."
As they examined the symbol, an unnatural coldness swept through the room. Pim shivered, clutching her jacket tighter. "It's freezing in here. Did anyone else feel that?"
Before anyone could answer, a faint sobbing sound filled the room. It was soft at first, barely audible, but it grew louder, more anguished, as though the very walls were crying out in pain.
Praew's flashlight flickered, the beam faltering as the sobbing transformed into whispers. Words in an ancient language filled the air, spoken in a voice that was both sorrowful and furious.
A shadowy figure emerged in the far corner of the room. It was a girl—her face pale, her eyes hollow, and her tattered school uniform scorched and frayed. The figure's presence filled the room with a suffocating dread.
"Kanya," Praew whispered, her voice trembling.
The ghostly figure turned its gaze toward them, her expression filled with a mix of sorrow and rage. "You shouldn't have come here," she said, her voice echoing unnaturally.
The walls began to shake, and the desks rattled violently. The symbol on the floor glowed a fiery red, casting eerie shadows across the room.
"Kanya, please!" Praew shouted, her voice desperate. "We're trying to help you!"
Kanya's figure stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate. "Help me?" she hissed, her tone dripping with bitterness. "No one helped me. They betrayed me. They left me to burn."
The air grew colder, and the whispers turned into a deafening roar. Praew and her friends were thrown backward by an unseen force, crashing into the desks behind them.
As Praew struggled to her feet, she saw Kanya standing in the center of the glowing symbol. Her ghostly form flickered, and for a moment, her face softened. "You want to help?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "Then make them pay."
The room fell silent. Kanya's figure vanished, leaving only the glowing symbol behind. The air felt heavy, as though the room itself was holding its breath.
Praew looked around at her friends, their faces pale and filled with fear. "We have to figure this out," she said, her voice shaking. "Kanya's not just a spirit. She's a girl who was wronged. And if we don't end this, more people will get hurt."
Meen nodded, her fear giving way to determination. "Then we need to find out who betrayed her. And why."
As they left the room, the faint glow of the symbol faded behind them. But the weight of what they had witnessed stayed with them, a reminder that the past was far from dead.
---
Walking away from the cursed room, Praew couldn't shake the feeling that Kanya wasn't the only one watching them from the shadows.* The deeper we dig,* she thought, *the darker this is going to get.*