That morning, Rossie couldn't stop thinking about the script, The Silent Bell. She had stayed up all night reading it, highlighting lines that felt more like hidden messages than stage dialogue. Some scenes described actual places inside Bellmont School—like the clock tower, the southern hallway, and an old storage room. The details were too specific to be just fiction.
After history class ended, she slipped out earlier than usual, carefully tucking the script into her canvas tote. Outside the classroom, Liam was already waiting under the big oak tree—their usual spot.
"You skipped music class?" Rossie asked as she approached him.
Liam shrugged. "I figured you needed an investigation partner today."
Rossie couldn't help but smile. "Come with me to the library. There's something you need to see."
⸻
Bellmont's library was known as one of the oldest school libraries in the city. It housed countless history books, archived documents, and even vintage newspapers—many tucked away in the basement archive rarely visited by students.
Rossie and Liam settled into the quietest corner—an old wooden table and two creaky chairs greeting them like a scene out of time.
"Here," Rossie handed him the script for The Silent Bell.
Liam flipped open the first page and raised an eyebrow. "This looks like… a classified file."
"It's more than just a script," Rossie explained. "It was performed in 1999. But the author's name is missing." She pointed at a cracked bell symbol. "And this—I've seen it before. Behind the stage, carved into one of the old beams."
Liam read carefully. "The main character… her name's Alya. A Bellmont student who went missing."
Rossie nodded. "And look at this." She pulled out an old photo from her small wallet—a picture of her mother in a Bellmont uniform.
"The uniform… that's the same one from 1999. And if you look at the background, that's the Bellmont stage."
Liam leaned in, comparing the photo and the script. His eyes widened.
"Don't tell me—"
"I think my mom was in this play. Maybe she wrote it. Maybe she… knows something," Rossie whispered.
Liam leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "If that's true, then this isn't just a coincidence. You're not here just for school. You're here because of a story left unfinished."
Rossie nodded slowly. "And I intend to finish it."
⸻
That night, Rossie returned to the auditorium. She brought a copy of the script and a small flashlight. Every step down Bellmont's empty corridors felt heavier than usual. On stage, she went straight to the wooden beam where she had first seen the cracked bell symbol.
Then she noticed something. Behind a torn curtain, one wooden panel looked different—newer.
With trembling fingers, Rossie pushed the panel. A soft click echoed as it creaked open, revealing a dusty old wooden box. Inside, a cassette tape—yes, a real cassette—with a faded label that read:
"Recording – Drama Rehearsal 1999"
Rossie stared at it, torn between fear and curiosity. She took the tape back to her dorm room.
⸻
"Who even owns a tape player in 2025?" Liam grumbled when Rossie showed him the cassette.
Rossie smiled mysteriously. "There's one in the old multimedia room, third floor of the east wing. I saw it during orientation."
"And you want to play a two-decade-old recording? Alone?"
Rossie looked him straight in the eyes. "Are you coming or not?"
Liam sighed. "I'm coming. But if we hear creepy voices, I'm out."
⸻
The multimedia room was dark and smelled like aged wood. In one of the cabinets, they found an old portable tape player that still worked—though it was covered in dust.
Carefully, Rossie inserted the tape and pressed Play.
Static… then laughter.
"Okay, start from Scene Three. Alya, enter from stage left and say your line…"
Rossie and Liam exchanged looks. The voice—young, female—sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
"…I know Bellmont's secret. Behind this wall, the truth must never be revealed."
The laughter faded. The tone of the recording shifted. Fast footsteps. Then—screaming.
"Alya? Don't go in there! ALYA!!"
The tape stopped.
Rossie and Liam sat frozen. That last scream—it didn't sound like acting.
"Rossie… this isn't just a play. Something really happened," Liam said, his voice raspy.
Rossie stared at the tape player, heart pounding faster than ever. Her hands shook, but her eyes remained steady.
"I have to find out the truth. About Alya. About my mom. About what really happened at Bellmont… 25 years ago."
⸻
The next day, Rossie knocked on the door to Ms. Arlena's office.
"I know you're hiding something. About the play. About what happened in 1999," she said boldly.
Ms. Arlena closed her notebook. Her face was calm, but her eyes were piercing.
"Are you ready to accept the consequences of digging up old truths?"
Rossie didn't hesitate. "I'm ready."
Ms. Arlena stood, opened a drawer, and pulled out a brown envelope. She handed it to Rossie.
"If you really want to know, start with this. But be careful, Rossie. The closer you get to the heart of the secret… the more you'll realize—
not every student who walks into Bellmont… makes it out."