Never spares who touches my diary

Never Spares Who Touches My Diary

Chapter 1: The Soul’s Only Friend

The rain has always followed Kash.

It started on her tenth birthday. She was playing alone in her room when her grandmother entered, smelling of old paper and dried lavender. With a mysterious smile, she handed Kash a leather-bound diary. "Happy birthday, my little shadow," she had whispered. "When you feel the world is too loud, or when you are truly alone, this book will be your only friend. But remember, Kash—this diary only has room for one soul."

Eight years passed, and that diary became Kash’s heartbeat. But as the connection grew, so did the darkness in her home. Her mother, Sillia, watched her with eyes full of fear and loathing. To Sillia and her father, David, Kash was not a daughter; she was a living curse.

College offered no escape. A girl named Mini made it her life’s mission to torment Kash, but Kash had one secret hope: Akash. He was the most popular boy in college, and he seemed to be the only one who saw her. He encouraged her to enter the National Talent Showcase, promising to be her partner. Kash spent months pouring her soul into a fusion of painting and dance, creating a masterpiece that meant everything to her.

On the night of the showcase, the plot was revealed. As Kash waited for her cue, Akash didn't show up. Instead, he appeared on the giant screen behind the stage. He had secretly recorded Kash practicing in private—moments where she was vulnerable, talking to her diary, and crying about her lonely life.

The entire college watched as Akash laughed on screen, mocking her "cursed" life for a bet with Mini. Her paintings were vandalized with black ink, and her dreams were destroyed in a single night.

Fully broken, Kash sat in her room as the rain hammered against the glass. She remembered her grandmother’s words. She was alone now. She opened the diary and began to write, her tears hitting the paper. That night, Kash was found cold and still, her body curled in the corner, clutching the diary to her chest in a grip so tight that not even death could break it.

A year passed. Sillia and David, wanting to erase the memory of their daughter, put her room up for rent. A new college girl named Jash moved in. As she unpacked, she noticed a loose floorboard near the window.

Tucked away in the shadows was a leather-bound book, waiting to be opened.

Jash sat up in bed, her heart thumping against her ribs. In the pale moonlight, she saw the girl in the corner, sobbing and clutching the book to her chest. Terrified but curious, Jash tried to get closer. As she moved, she bumped into a stool, falling hard to the floor. The noise shattered the silence, and in that split second, the girl vanished. The room was empty once more.

The next morning, Jash found Mrs. Sillia in the kitchen. "Mrs. Sillia," she began, her voice trembling. "I saw a girl in my room last night. She was crying and holding a book."

Sillia didn’t even look up, her face hardening. "Don’t be ridiculous," she snapped. "Young girls shouldn't drink or let their imaginations run wild. There is no one in that room but you."

Frustrated, Jash retreated to her room. She knew what she had seen. She reached under the floorboards and pulled out the diary. But just as she opened the first page, her phone buzzed. It was a call from her mother.

Distracted by the long conversation, Jash set the diary down on the edge of the bed. She talked for nearly an hour, and when she finally hung up, she turned to pick the book back up. It was gone. She searched the desk and the blankets, but it was nowhere to be found. It was as if the room itself had swallowed it. Eventually, she gave up, assuming she had misplaced it in her rush, and went to sleep.

At exactly 1:00 AM, the chill returned. Jash’s eyes snapped open to see the same sight: the girl with the open hair, sitting in the corner, hugging the diary in that tight, deathly grip. Jash watched, frozen, as the figure slowly faded into the shadows.

Suddenly, Jash looked under the bed. There, lying in the dark dust, was the diary. It had moved on its own.

Jash pulled it out, her hands shaking. She realized now that the ghost wasn't just haunting the room; she was guarding the book. The confusion in Jash's mind turned into a desperate need for answers. She sat on the floor, flipped the cover open, and finally began to read.

The Warning & The Rejection

The air in the room grew heavy as Jash turned to the very first page. Her breath hitched. Written across the inside cover in dark, dried red—a color that could only be blood—was a jagged warning:

“THIS DIARY BELONGS ONLY TO ME. HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY HEART? IF YOU MAKE THE MISTAKE OF TURNING THESE PAGES, I WILL KILL YOU. I NEVER SPARE THE SOUL WHO TOUCHES MY DIARY.”

Jash slammed the book shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Her heart raced, thudding against her ribs. Terrified, she ran downstairs to Mrs. Sillia. The moment Sillia saw the leather-bound book, her face turned ghostly white, her eyes widening in a look that was more than just fear—it was recognition.

"Take this filth out of my sight!" she shrieked to the servant, her voice cracking. "Throw it in the trash! Burn it! Get it away from this house!"

The Return

The servant hurried away with the book. For the next few nights, the room was silent. Jash began to relax, the logical part of her brain convincing her it was all just a sick prank. She began focusing on her first day at the local college, laying out her clothes and organizing her pens.

But at exactly 1:00 AM the night before classes, the sobbing returned. It wasn't coming from the walls this time; it was muffled, vibrating through the floorboards directly under her bed. Jash reached a trembling hand beneath the bedframe, her fingers brushing against something cold and pebbled.

Cold leather. The diary had come back. Instead of running, Jash felt a spark of cold determination override her fear. This wasn't a prank; it was a haunting. She needed to solve this before it consumed her. She pulled the diary out and shoved it deep into her college bag, burying it under her textbooks.

The Echoes of the Past

The next morning, Jash walked through the college gates, the heavy bag weighing on her shoulder like a lead weight. As she stepped into her first classroom, the air grew unnaturally still. The sunlight hitting the desks seemed to dim, turning a sickly, sepia tone.

The world began to warp. The modern posters on the walls flickered, bleeding into a different time. Suddenly, Jash wasn't just seeing her new classmates; she saw a group of students from a year ago surrounding a lonely, trembling girl in the corner.

She saw a girl named Mini laughing cruelly, her face twisted in a mask of mockery as she led the group in a chorus of whispers. "Look at her," Mini hissed, "she thinks her secrets are safe in that little book."

Jash gasped, the vision so visceral she could almost feel the phantom sting of the girl’s tears. Then, as quickly as it started, the hallucination snapped. Jash stood in the middle of the quiet classroom, clutching her bag, her forehead drenched in a cold sweat. Her new classmates were staring at her, but she barely noticed.

The Realization

She was completely shaken. Who was that girl in the vision? Why was everyone so cruel to her? Jash looked down at her bag, the leather book inside feeling like a beating heart against her side. She realized now that she wasn't just carrying a diary; she was carrying a witness.

Jash had no idea that she was walking the same halls where a tragedy had unfolded just one year ago—and the girl she saw in the vision was only the beginning of the story.