# In the university dorm chat group, someone complained: “The hallways are always full of trash. It’s summer, and the smell is unbearable! Why doesn’t anyone take care of it?” Someone else joked back: “Pretend to be a delivery guy and knock on the door of whichever dorm keeps piling up trash. When they open the door, stab them in the chest. If one stab doesn’t do it, make it two. Once they’re dead, pack the body in a suitcase and take it out—no one will ever notice!” Not long after, I received a message from my roommate: “Mia? I just got into bed, but there’s someone at the door saying they have a delivery. I didn’t order anything—did you?” 0Delivery? What delivery? I was about to reply and tell her I hadn’t ordered anything when a new message popped up in the dorm chat group. “I pretended to be a delivery guy and knocked, but the person inside said they didn’t order anything and told me to leave it at the door.” My fingers froze above the keyboard. A chilling sweat broke out on my palms. I quickly typed a trembling response to my roommate: “I didn’t order anything! Don’t open the door—no matter what!” The dorm chat group was exclusively for residents of Building 3. When we joined, the dorm manager had instructed everyone to include their room numbers as part of their usernames. At our university, dorm numbers are formatted with the first two digits indicating the floor, and the last two digits indicating the room. For example, my room number is 2201, meaning I live on the 22nd floor in the room farthest to the left. The person who had just sent the message was listed as 2200 in the group. To avoid revealing their exact location, some people only included their floor number in their username. The person joking about the “delivery prank” was listed as 2222—but our floor only has 20 rooms. That meant they were also on the 22nd floor but hadn’t included their full room number. This wasn’t the first time people had used fake usernames. Whenever someone wanted to post anonymously, they’d temporarily change their username. My roommate sent another message: “Mia, the delivery guy said the room number is correct. Are you sure you didn’t order anything?” My breathing quickened. What if she went to open the door after sending that message? I typed as fast as I could: “Don’t open the door! Whatever you do, don’t open the door! There’s a killer outside!” My roommate wasn’t in the group anymore. She’d left it a while back because she was tired of people arguing over petty issues. To make sure she understood, I quickly screenshotted the messages from the chat group and sent them to her. 0
“This is from our dorm chat group.” “That ‘delivery guy’ prank was 2222’s idea, and 2200 is the one carrying it out!” “Their goal is to kill you! Don’t open the door!” I sent her three messages in a row, hoping she’d realize how serious the situation was. She replied quickly: “Mia, this has to be some kind of joke. I mean, who would actually do something like this? We’re in college!” Her response made my heart sink. But I couldn’t give up. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not. I didn’t order anything, and you’re alone in the dorm. Just be careful, okay?” I had barely put my phone down when another message popped up in the group: 2222: “Did she open the door yet?” 2200: “Not yet, but I can hear movement inside. [knife emoji with blood]” 2222: “Don’t rush it. Wait for her to come out. By the way, there are two people in that dorm. Are you planning to kill them both, or just one?” 2200: “Just one. Killing two would be too much work. Besides, I’ve noticed only one person’s been coming back to that room at night recently. She always wears those stupid Crocs.” When I saw that message, my heart stopped. I’d just moved out of the dorm a few days ago, leaving my roommate alone. And she had a habit of wearing Crocs in the summer. The description matched our room perfectly. This wasn’t a joke. It couldn’t be. I immediately opened my roommate’s chat. Just then, my phone buzzed with a new message from her: “Mia, relax! Look.” She sent me two photos. 0
The pictures my roommate sent were blurry, likely taken by holding her phone’s camera close to the peephole. The first photo showed the delivery person bending down to pick up a takeout box. The second photo captured the delivery person walking away, their back to the camera. Roommate: “Mia, I was just about to go grab the takeout, but guess what happened when I got out of bed?” I quickly typed back: “What happened?” Roommate: “The delivery guy said he made a mistake. Apparently, he got the room number wrong when filling out the order, so it wasn’t for us after all.” Despite her reply, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in my chest. The messages from the dorm group chat were just too strange. Who jokes about such specific and unrelated details? After thinking for a few seconds, I forwarded the suspicious messages from the dorm group to her. This time, her response wasn’t as quick, and I started to feel anxious. Just as I was about to call her through the app, she finally replied. Roommate: “These people in the group are insane. They’re always stirring up nonsense. Don’t you remember why I left the group in the first place?” Of course, I remembered. How could I forget? She hadn’t just left because of the constant bickering over trivial issues. There was one incident where a student posted a chilling message in the group: 22:** “@2204, I’m standing outside your dorm. Keep talking that loudly, and you’ll never speak again. Dead people are the quietest!”** The message sent everyone on the 22nd floor into a panic, keeping them up all night. The dorm manager tried to reassure us by coming to investigate, but they found no one outside the dorm—it was just a prank. That incident had been the last straw for my roommate. She left the group to avoid the stress altogether. Roommate: “Every time, it’s the same thing in this group. Some small issue gets blown way out of proportion. It’s exhausting!” Her message calmed me down a bit. I realized my panic had caused unnecessary stress for her. To ease the tension, I sent her an apology: “Emma, I’m sorry for overreacting. I just got really worried and forgot about the other stuff.” After sending the message, I decided to focus on my work and stop checking my phone. But just as I was about to close the app, a new message from the dorm group caught my eye. 0
2211: “Hey, sorry about that! I accidentally put 2201 as the room number when I ordered takeout. I hope it didn’t cause any trouble!” 2222: “So it really was a mistake?” 2211: “[awkward emoji] Yeah, my bad! But honestly, your conversations are super creepy. Maybe don’t joke about stuff like that.” 2222: “Got it, got it.” 2200: “Wow, scared already? That was just one method, you know.” Seeing the conversation, I finally let out a deep breath. It seemed like I’d been overthinking. But as I was about to close the app, something about 2211’s message struck me. She said she’d ordered porridge. I immediately reopened my chat with my roommate and pulled up the first photo she’d sent of the delivery. Zooming in on the takeout packaging, I noticed something odd. The container in the photo was a plastic box. But at our school, porridge is always served in paper cups. Which meant the delivery person in the photo wasn’t from 2211’s order. Someone else had gone to our dorm. And then I remembered 2200’s last message: “That was just one method.” It was 2200. She really had gone to our dorm! This wasn’t like the earlier pranks where nothing happened. This time, it was real—a planned attack. My heart started pounding as I frantically opened my roommate’s chat and called her. The call connected but was immediately declined. Panicking, I sent her a message: “Emma, what are you doing?!” The chat showed that she was typing a reply, but no message came through. I sent another message: “Did you open the door?!” 0
This time, she replied quickly: “No!” A second message came right after: “Mia, I’m scared to talk. There’s someone in the hallway.” She attached a photo. The image was mostly dark, but at the bottom, there was a narrow strip of light. I stared at the picture and realized the light was coming from the gap beneath the door. It meant she hadn’t turned on the dorm lights, and the sound-activated lights in the hallway had been triggered. Wait. I zoomed in on the photo, focusing on the strip of light. In the middle of the light, there were two shadowy shapes. Legs. Someone was standing directly outside her door. It was the “delivery person.” They hadn’t left. Just as I was about to send her another message, she sent me a video. The video was dark, but the audio was clear—loud, frantic knocking on the door. Roommate: “Mia, the peephole’s been covered. I can’t see who’s out there! Someone’s knocking nonstop [scared emoji].” Me: “Emma, don’t panic. I’ve already called the police. Stay inside and don’t make a sound!” Roommate: “Where’s the dorm manager?! Why haven’t they shown up yet? [sweating emoji]” I checked the time. It was 10 p.m.—shift change for the dorm managers. During this time, the managers for different shifts often chatted for a few minutes while switching duties. That “few minutes” wasn’t fixed, and given how urgent the situation was, I didn’t have time to wait. I quickly found the duty schedule and called the current dorm manager’s number. But the call wouldn’t go through—it just kept ringing.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295550”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller
Leave a Reply