Narrative Composition

The door opens and I saw a familiar face, it was my old classmate Jenny. To say that she was a friend would be pushing it a bit; I was a loner at school and hated group work with other people. I had only decided to attend this reunion out of curiosity but at this point I felt as curious as a woman on death row wondering what the execution chamber was like.
“Sarah”, Jenny said awkwardly. “We weren’t expecting you, come in.”
“Hi Jenny, how are you doing?”
              She didn’t even reply and turned her back to lead me into the old, dusty 19th century auditorium. Standing in the centre was 15 or so old class mates.
“High everyone, remember Sarah?”, as one or two people turned round to reluctantly acknowledge.
        The night seemed to drag on for ages with me continuously talking to people about my job as a successful businesswoman and that I was still single; their surprise soon turned to pity. Just before I was going to make an exit Jenny approached me in the corridor.
“Here is your room key Sarah”.
“Key?” I said surprised. “I mean, I didn’t realise I was staying”
“Please it would be our pleasure”, Jenny said creepily.
I wanted to run there and then but I was too polite to refuse. Jenny led me and another guest named John from the auditorium, up some old creaking stairs to the aging dorms we used to stay in.
“This will be your room Sarah, next to Johns”, said Jenny as she hurriedly closed the door and went back downstairs.
I couldn’t help but think how strange she was acting. I looked around the room; the expression on my face said it all, grim. The wallpaper was peeling and the carpet smelled of old, unwashed clothes.
I was settling down for the night and got into bed as normal. Then, I heard a terrified scream. At that moment, John burst through the door.
“What on earth with that?” John yelped.