Enter this room

Melissa tiptoed down the hallway, her senses on high alert. Every rustle, every distant cough echoed in the sterile silence of the third floor. Unlike the bustling lower levels, this domain belonged to the teachers, and encountering a student here would be disastrous. Yet, the gnawing suspicion that she wasn't alone wouldn't be quelled. Maybe, just maybe, another student harbored the same rebellious urge. Brushing aside the doubt, Melissa fixed her gaze on the door marked "Faculty's Resting Room." Perhaps, just perhaps, it was blessedly empty.

Melissa, a stark contrast against the sterile hallway, approached the door marked "Faculty Resting Room.", this one exuded an air of calm efficiency. A wave of relief washed over her – the door was unlocked. With a silent prayer, she cracked it open a sliver, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The room was empty. Seizing the opportunity, she slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that echoed in the sudden stillness. Her eyes scanned the room with a practiced efficiency born of countless planning sessions. The plush sofas and coffee table seemed designed for relaxation, a stark contrast to the urgency churning in her gut. Ignoring everything else, her gaze darted to the metal file cabinet standing sentinel in the corner. It was locked, but that hadn't been part of the plan. A knot of frustration tightened in her stomach. She had to find another way.

Pressing her ear against the cool metal of the door, Melissa strained to hear any sound from within. Relief flooded her – silence. Pushing the door open further, she took in the surprisingly furnished room. A plush coffee table sat in the center, flanked by a pair of inviting sofas. The one directly opposite the door was meticulously arranged, its cushions unwrinkled, while the other curved inwards, creating a cozy nook bathed in the warm glow of a nearby lamp. Bookshelves lined one wall, their neatly organized spines showcasing a variety of educational titles and well-worn novels. However, Melissa's gaze lingered on the metal file cabinet standing sentinel in the corner. Unlike the bookshelves, it seemed to hold a sense of mystery. Its drawers were shut tight, their contents hidden from view. A glint of determination flickered in Melissa's eyes. This, she felt, was where her search truly began.

Melissa approached the bookshelf, its neatly ordered rows a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. Countless books lined the shelves, a sea of titles on education, psychology, and even a few well-worn novels. Her gaze scanned the spines, searching for a specific one – a seemingly innocuous choice that would serve a very different purpose. With a practiced ease born of nervous energy, she selected a book, its worn leather cover cool beneath her trembling fingers. Flipping it open, she carefully placed her panties between two specific pages, the act imbued with a strange sense of defiance. Memorizing the book's title for later retrieval, Melissa slipped it back onto the shelf, its presence now a silent marker in this unfamiliar territory.

Melissa's hand hovered on the doorknob, a surge of relief washing over her. Freedom awaited just on the other side. But the fragile peace shattered in an instant. A voice, laced with a hint of amusement, drifted through the door.

Melissa's blood ran cold. Her heart hammered a frantic tattoo against her ribs as she spun around, her eyes desperately searching for an escape route.

" I noticed you seem to be looking for something, Mrs. Helen. Did you forget anything?”, a student asked.

“ Hey, I need to grab a book real quick. Head to class first, I'll catch you there.”, Melissa heard it was Mrs Helen’s voice, who was a teacher of literature.

Panic clawed at Melissa's throat. Mrs. Helen in here? Her heart hammered a frantic tattoo against her ribs as she whipped around, eyes scanning the room for refuge. The plush sofa opposite the door offered a sliver of hope. With a silent gasp, she launched herself behind it, pressing her back against the cool leather, praying the thin barrier would conceal her from the approaching footsteps.