The clock ticked closer to midnight.
This time, they weren't scared. Just determined. One by one, the girls gathered outside the old bell tower. The same place where Anushka had seen something strange just two nights ago.
"Are we seriously going in again?" Akshada asked, hugging herself.
"Yes," Prajwal said confidently. "We're going to find out what's going on here."
Akshara nodded, though her hands trembled. Swara was silent but alert, her flashlight already on. Rutuja stood close to Swarali and Apurva, who were clutching their notebooks like shields.
Srushti looked calm, but her eyes were sharp. Anushka? She looked excited… maybe too excited.
The tower door creaked open easily this time.
"Wasn't this locked last time?" Apurva whispered.
"Maybe it wants us to come in now," Anushka said with a weird little grin.
Inside, the air was cold and heavy, filled with dust and something that felt like sadness.
The wooden stairs groaned as they climbed. They had been here before, but tonight felt different.
When they reached the top, everything looked the same. Old wood, broken windows, a bit of moonlight coming through… but then Swarali spotted something.
"There's something written on the wall," she whispered.
They all turned their flashlights in that direction.
Carved into the wooden wall, in faded scratches, were the words:
"I didn't fall. I was pushed."
Everyone went quiet.
"She… she was murdered?" Akshara asked in a small voice.
"Who?" Rutuja said, even though she already knew the answer.
"Niyati Sharma," Swara said slowly. "The girl who died here."
Prajwal stepped closer to the wall. Her heart thudded. "She's trying to tell us the truth."
Suddenly, something shifted behind them. A cold breeze. A flickering light.
And then—there she was.
A girl.
Wearing an old school uniform. Long black hair. Pale skin. Standing near the far end of the tower. Just watching.
"Niyati…" whispered Srushti.
The ghost didn't move. She simply raised her hand and pointed to the wooden floor beneath her.
"Something's hidden there," Anushka said.
The girls gathered around. Together, they pulled aside some of the loose planks.
Underneath was an old plastic cover.
Inside it… a school diary.
The name on the cover: Niyati Sharma – Class 9A.
Swarali opened it carefully. The pages were yellowed but still readable.
They skipped to the last few entries.
---
March 3rd
Someone keeps following me. I tried telling my teacher, but she said I was being dramatic. I don't feel safe anymore.
March 5th
She threatened me again. Said if I speak up, she'll ruin me. I wish someone would believe me.
March 9th
If something happens to me, please don't let them call it an accident. I'm not crazy. I just want peace.
---
A long silence followed.
"She knew," Prajwal said quietly. "She knew she wasn't going to make it."
"She was trying to cry for help," Apurva whispered.
"And no one listened…" Rutuja added.
Then, the air shifted again.
And a soft, sorrowful voice echoed around them.
"Help… me…"
It was faint. But it was there.
"We'll help you, Niyati," Swara said gently. "We're listening now."
As the words left her mouth, the coldness in the room started to disappear.
The heaviness lifted.
They all felt it—Niyati had heard them.
---