Chapter 3 — Confronting the Bully

 

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✨ Chapter 3 — Confronting the Bully

The hallway outside the archives felt different now.

Thicker.

Heavier.

As if Myrtle’s truth had shifted something in the air — a weight that had been waiting years to be acknowledged.

I carried the file pressed against my chest.

Every page felt like it pulsed.

Every step echoed louder than it should have.

When I reached the top of the stairs, the motion sensor lights flickered on one by one… but the last one didn’t.

A shadow stood under it.

My breath caught.

It was him.

The senior boy.

The bully.

The one whose presence had sent Myrtle into violent, ghostly rage.

He turned slowly, headphones hanging around his neck, and frowned when he saw me.

“You,” he said. “Why were you in the archives? That place is restricted.”

His tone was sharp.

Authoritative.

Practiced.

Like someone who’d silenced people before.

I tightened my grip on the file.

“You knew her,” I said quietly.

He blinked. “Who?”

“Myrtle Warren.”

His jaw locked for a second. It was subtle — but I saw it.

“I don’t know any Myrtle,” he said too quickly.

“You did.”

He turned fully toward me now, expression darkening. “Listen. Don’t get involved in things you don’t—”

A gust of freezing wind blasted down the hallway, cutting him off.

The lights above flickered violently.

His eyes widened. “Not again…”

And then — she appeared.

Not fully.

Just a shimmer behind me.

A reflection of a girl made of frost and pain.

“Myrtle?” he whispered, voice strangled with fear.

So he did know.

“You pushed her,” I said, stepping closer to him. “You cornered her by the old staircase. You threatened her. She didn’t slip — you made her fall.”

His face drained of color.

“That’s not— you don’t understand— she was—”

But the hallway lights blew out, one by one, exploding in sparks as Myrtle’s rage surged like static through the air.

He backed away. “Stop! STOP! I didn’t mean to— It was an accident!”

Books from nearby carts toppled suddenly, slamming to the ground like invisible fists.

The air hissed with her whisper:

“You meant every word.”

He stumbled backward as the temperature dropped to winter-cold.

“I was a kid,” he shouted desperately. “I didn’t know— I was just messing around— I didn’t know she’d fall! I didn’t know she’d die!”

“You knew enough to lie,” I said.

He froze.

“You knew enough to tear pages from her file.

You knew enough to pretend you’d never met her.”

His chest heaved. His hands were shaking. “I— I couldn’t let my life be ruined—”

Myrtle materialized then, clearer than before.

Her face pale, her eyes hollow, her scarf fluttering like it was underwater.

She stood beside me — and whispered:

“So you ruined mine instead.”

The hallway went dead quiet.

He dropped to his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry, Myrtle. I’m sorry—”

But Myrtle’s gaze wasn’t angry anymore.

Not fully.

It was tired.

Heartbroken.

Like she had waited years for this moment — not for revenge, but for truth.

“Say it,” she whispered.

“Say what you did.”

His voice cracked.

“I pushed you.

I threatened you.

I… I killed you.”

The confession echoed down the hallway like a curse breaking.

Myrtle’s ghost flickered.

The air warmed for the first time since she appeared in my life.

Her blue scarf floated upward, wrapping gently around her translucent shoulders.

She turned to me — her face softening.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

A faint glow spread through her body, like morning light finding a forgotten window.

She began to fade.

“Will you be free now?” I asked.

“Almost,” she said — her voice peaceful, finally.

“Just one more thing left.”

“What?”

Her smile held both sorrow and hope.

“Make them remember me.”

And then—

She vanished.

Not like before.

Not in cold gusts or flickering shadows.

This time, she went softly — like a story finally reaching its ending, or a soul finally finding its way home.

The bully was still kneeling, shaking with silent sobs, the weight of his truth finally crushing him.

I held Myrtle’s file close.

Because the next chapter wasn’t for her.

It was for the living.

For justice.

For truth.

And for a girl who had waited too long to be remembered.

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If you’d like, I can generate:

✨ Chapter 4 — The Investigation & The File That Changes Everything

✨ Chapter 5 — The Final Goodbye / Myrtle’s Release

✨ A darker or more emotional version

✨ Illustration prompts + cover art concepts

And when you're ready, tell me:

“Generate the image for Chapter 2 now.”