chapter 32 " The shatter point "

The morning after the Literature class incident, Brentford was unusually quiet.

Too quiet.

Helena walked through the school gates with her head high, Greg’s hoodie still tied around her waist like armor. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she didn’t let them see it. Not today.

Students stared. Some looked away. Others whispered.

But no one laughed.

Not this time.

Word had gotten around that Bianca was under disciplinary review after Mrs. Winston found the red ink bottle and several incriminating messages on her phone—messages about “setting up the bathroom” and “turning Helena into a joke.”

Helena knew it wasn’t justice yet. But it was something.

Brentford Garden – Later That Day

Greg sat with Theo and Tessy at their usual bench, eyes scanning the quad. When Helena finally walked up to them, Tessy sprang to her feet and hugged her tightly.

“You’re seriously the bravest person I know,” Tessy whispered. “Everyone else would’ve quit by now.”

“I almost did,” Helena said softly.

Greg stood, brushing her hair behind her ear. “But you didn’t.”

Helena sat beside him. “What’s happening with Bianca?”

Theo smirked slightly. “Three-day suspension. Not enough if you ask me. But her rep’s cracked. Some students are even turning on her.”

“Good,” Helena said. “Let her feel what it’s like to be hunted.”

Elsewhere – Bianca’s Room

Bianca tossed her phone against the wall. The screen cracked.

“How dare they suspend me? Over her?”

She paced back and forth like a caged animal. Her thoughts bounced between rage, jealousy, and something else darker… something cold and calculating.

Then her phone buzzed.

A new message. Anonymous.

Ready to take her down for good?

Check your locker tomorrow. I left you a gift.

Bianca’s lips curled into a wicked smile.

“Let’s see how long your little love story lasts, Helena.”

Brentford Library – That Night

Helena couldn’t sleep. She sat between bookshelves, pouring over articles and records Theo had managed to pull up from the school's server.

She was back on Sophia’s trail.

An old photo caught her eye—Sophia, standing beside Mr. Lennox, the school’s former counselor. There was something off in his expression. Something hollow.

She leaned closer. There was a handwritten note on the back of the picture.

Trust no one. He watches everything.

Her heart jumped.

Cliffhanger Ending – Chapter Thirty-Two

The next morning, Bianca opened her locker and found a box.

Inside: a burner phone, a USB drive, and a note that read:

“Expose the counselor. Break the chain. Or become the next Sophia.”

Far across the quad, Helena and Greg held hands—unaware that the next secret about to be revealed could destroy everything.

The sky over Brentford had dimmed to a pale silver by the time Helena left the library. Her eyes were tired from scanning documents, but her resolve had sharpened.

She passed the music wing, where muffled piano chords leaked out of a practice room—someone playing a slow, aching melody. It reminded her of everything she’d nearly lost… and what she was fighting for.

At the front steps, Greg waited, back against the pillar, hands in his coat pockets.

“You didn’t have to wait,” she said softly.

“I always will.”

She walked toward him, grateful for his steady presence.

He looked at her like he could see everything she’d been carrying—but wouldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Did you find anything?” he asked.

Helena nodded. “Sophia was close with Mr. Lennox. Too close. Something happened between them. I found a photo. The handwriting on it warned she was being watched.”

Greg frowned. “Lennox was let go years ago. Quietly.”

“Exactly,” she replied. “No public complaint. No disciplinary records. Nothing.”

Tessy joined them a moment later, cheeks flushed from running. “You guys won’t believe this.”

She held up her phone.

The Brentford gossip page—“BrentfordConfessions”—had just uploaded an anonymous post:

Who remembers Mr. Lennox? Sophia sure did. Maybe the school covered more than just her disappearance…

Helena’s heart thumped.

Theo must’ve posted it.

“Tessy,” she whispered. “This is it. This is the beginning.”

Brentford — Girls Dorm, Midnight

Bianca sat on the edge of her bed, burner phone in one hand, USB drive in the other.

She hadn’t plugged it in yet.

Something about it made her skin crawl.

But she did read the note again:

Expose the counselor. Break the chain. Or become the next Sophia.

She swallowed hard.

Her fingers hovered over the laptop.

And then she did it—plugged the USB in.

The screen flashed white, then black.

A single audio file loaded.

“SophiaLastRecording.mp3”

Bianca clicked.

A voice crackled to life—tired, afraid, whispering:

*"If you’re hearing this… then they didn’t let me leave. It wasn’t an accident. He said I knew too much .

Helena stared at the note in her hand. Her pulse drummed in her ears.

“Ask your mother about the old chapel. She knew Sophia, too.”

She read it again. And again.

The words were messy, rushed—desperate. But it was the last sentence that stabbed straight through her heart.

Her mother knew Sophia?

All this time… she’d watched Helena spiral. Fought to pull her back. Yet never said a word?

Helena shoved the note into her pocket and grabbed her phone. Her fingers hovered over her mother’s contact.

Should she call?

Greg knocked softly at the door and stepped inside. “You okay?”

She looked up, heart still racing. “I got another note.”

His expression darkened. “What now?”

She handed it to him.

Greg’s eyes scanned the words, jaw tightening. “Your mum…?”

“I don’t understand,” Helena whispered. “Why would she hide something like this from me? Unless she was scared. Or trying to protect me.”

“Or,” Greg said slowly, “she didn’t want you asking questions she couldn’t answer.”

Helena sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. “The chapel. What chapel?”

Greg sat beside her. “There’s an abandoned chapel on the edge of Brentford’s old campus grounds. Near the woods. They sealed it off years ago.”

Helena looked up. “Can you take me there?”

He hesitated. “Tonight?”

She nodded. “I need to see it.”

Later That Night – Brentford Woods

The path to the old chapel was overgrown and cold, moonlight slicing through the trees like broken glass.

Helena and Greg moved quietly through the brush until the stone building appeared—dark and cracked with age, its cross half-broken, hanging like a warning.

The iron gates were chained, but the side entrance had a rusted hole wide enough for them to slip through.

Inside, it was colder. Dust and broken pews. Shards of stained glass littered the floor like forgotten prayers.

Helena’s flashlight swept the wall—and stopped.

A name.

Scratched into the brick near the altar.

SOPHIA.

And underneath it:

“Tell the truth, or rot with the rest.”

Greg’s breath hitched beside her.

Then something creaked behind them.

A board? A footstep?

They spun—but saw nothing.

“Let’s go,” Helena whispered.

Greg didn’t argue.

Back at the Dorm

Helena’s fingers trembled as she opened her phone and called her mum.

Tricia answered on the second ring.

“Helena? Are you okay? It’s late.”

Helena took a breath. “Did you know a girl named Sophia? Sophia Martins?”

Silence.

Then a sharp inhale on the other end of the line.

“…Where did you hear that name?”

“You knew her,” Helena whispered. “Didn’t you?”

Tricia’s voice cracked. “Helena. Come home. There are things I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

Helena’s voice broke. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

A pause.

Then:

“From Brentford’s ghosts.”