LIVING DEAD GIRL

♯ ❝ AND HE LOOKS PISSED.❞
CHAPTER TWO ✧･ﾟ: * 👻🔦

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THE WORLD ON THE OTHER SIDE OF DEATH WAS QUIET. NOT SILENT—BUT STILL. MUTED. Like someone had thrown a heavy blanket over reality. Time felt different there, like nothing ever happened. Everything looked a little faded, a little too cold. And yet, it was the only place Bryce had left to be.

Bryce stood in her usual spot, pressed just beside the doorframe of the art classroom, her fingers nervously fiddling with the frayed threads of the woven bracelet on her wrist—the matching one her brother still wore. Across the hallway, she watched him. Thomas.

He was leaned up against the lockers, shoulders curled in, speaking to one of the teachers in hushed tones. His jaw clenched, his eyes dark from the exhaustion that never seemed to leave him anymore.

The teacher looked concerned, too carefully choosing her words. Probably another wellness check. Another conversation about how he 'wasn't coping well'. Like anyone could know how to cope with something like this. Like disappearing from your own life without warning.

Maddie hovered behind Bryce with Charley, watching her quietly. Her brows pulled into a frown before she turned her head and murmured to Charley, "Does she... do this all the time?"

Charley sighed softly, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. His voice was low, fond and aching, "Yeah. She always does. Every day. She's always here. Watching him." His eyes stayed on Bryce as he spoke, heavy with memory, "She can't help it. He's all she thinks about now."

He remembered too well the many times he'd found her crumpled in a corner, sobbing without sound, after Thomas broke down in the hallway or skipped another class just to sit alone in the library. Charley had held her through all of it. Every time her heart shattered again.

Now, Bryce watched her brother with the same mix of longing and guilt, her stomach twisting into tight, sour knots. She wasn't just mourning herself—she was mourning him, too. Mourning the version of Thomas who used to smile. Who used to tease her. Who used to laugh.

Her thumb dragged slowly over the bracelet's threads again. Then her eyes shifted, narrowing slightly.

Lucy Hale, her former best friend. Too close. Again.

She stood beside Thomas, brushing her hand along his arm in a too-familiar way, speaking with the kind of soft, syrupy tone that made Bryce's spine stiffen. She had been noticing it more and more since she ended up here.

    At first, she told herself it was innocent—just Lucy trying to be there for her brother. Supportive. But this?

This didn't feel like that anymore.

Bryce moved a few steps closer. A ghost walking through the cracks of the world, weightless and unseen. The cold didn't affect her. Nothing did—not really, but at the same time it did. Her heart still ached, and right now, it was screaming.

She stopped just short of the lockers, close enough to hear every word.

Lucy's voice was a gentle hum, falsely soothing, and placed her palm flat against his shoulder with a sly smile, "It's going to be okay. I know it doesn't feel like it now, but... Bry's in a better place."

Bryce scoffed aloud, the sound laced with disgust, even if no one but Maddie and Charley could hear it. Her arms folded tightly across her chest. She wasn't in a better place. She was there. Stuck. Alone. Watching her life unravel without being able to stop it.

Thomas's face twisted, the same way hers did—disbelief and sharp rejection. His eyes flared as Lucy tried to rest a hand on his shoulder again.

"My sister's not dead," He snapped, shoving Lucy's arm off with more force than expected, "She's just missing. She's coming back. She has to." His voice cracked on the last word, but the anger was still there, hot and raw.

Lucy stepped back, stunned, "I—I'm sorry," She said, her voice smaller now, "I just— I hate seeing you like this. And I know Bry would too." Her arms wrapped around him again, slower this time, clinging. Too close.

Bryce's jaw tightened, a small fire starting to burn low in her chest. Her fists clenched, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm—not that it mattered. Her body didn't bruise anymore. But it still remembered the feelings. The betrayal. The sting.

Maddie and Charley approached her side, quiet but firm. "Bryce," Charley spoke gently, his hand brushing her back, "We should go. You need a break from this."

She bit her bottom lip, her eyes locked on her brother. His face was still contorted in grief. He didn't shake Lucy off this time—but he didn't lean into her either. He just stood there. Hollow, like always was now after her disapeanrce from his life.

Bryce gave a tight, reluctant nod. Maddie slid her arm through hers, a warm presence in this cold half-life. But then—she froze at what she noticed out of the corner of her eye.

Her hazel gaze dropped. Lucy's phone was in her hand, tilted at an angle—and there, dangling from the case like a charm, was a chain. A chain Bryce knew too well.

Her letter. Her chain. The one she'd clipped to her phone and never took off. Her eyes went wide. The breath that she didn't need caught in her throat. That's mine.

She never gave it to Lucy. Never would've. And Thomas wouldn't have handed it over. He held on to everything that was hers like they were holy relics.

But more than that—when she died, when she ended up here... she hadn't had her phone. That detail always nagged at her. She remembered having it. She was texting someone. She had it. So why wasn't it with her now?

She stepped forward, confusion clouding the anger in her chest, but before she could do anything—before she could think—Charley and Maddie were already pulling her gently toward the exit.

And with each step back, the wall between her and the living grew stronger. The voices vanished. Her brother disappeared behind that veil again. The last thing she saw was Lucy turning the phone in her hand, Bryce's chain catching the light like a knife.

"What the heck...." She muttered to herself, brows drawn together as she was lead through the hallways with her friends on either side of her, thoughts all over the place wondering why Lucy out of all people had her chain. She thought her brother would have it, but she guessed wrong.

Bryce hadn't realized she was walking too far ahead until she smacked directly into someone.

Her forehead bumped hard into a solid chest, and she yelped in surprise, stumbling back as her hand flew up to her forehead. Before she could fully regain her balance, a pair of steady hands gripped her shoulders, grounding her, "Ow," She muttered, blinking rapidly.

"Still as clumsy as ever, huh?"

Her stomach sank. She didn't even need to look up to recognize that smooth, amused voice. But she did anyway—because of course she did.

There he was. Timothee.

All unruly curls and smug smirk, with the kind of relaxed confidence that made you want to either laugh or punch him. Or both. The faintest shadow of mischief lingered in his dark eyes, and his hands were still comfortably gripping her shoulders, like he had every right to touch her like that.

Bryce squinted at him, already bracing herself. Behind her, Charley gave her a sheepish look, tugging Maddie by the sleeve as he quickly mumbled something and dragged her away in the opposite direction—coward.

Her eyes widened in betrayal, "Charley, are you kidding me—" She hissed under her breath, but it was already too late. They were gone. Her glare dropped to the curly-haired ghost still standing in front of her, way too entertained by the whole thing.

"I told Wally I'd stay clear of you," She grumbled, pulling away from his grip and brushing the wrinkles out of her green jumper, "You're trouble."

Timothee didn't deny it. His grin only deepened as he stepped back half a pace, holding his hands up in mock innocence, "You say it like it's a bad thing." Then, tilting his head slightly, he added with a chuckle, "You really should watch where you're going though. I know ghosts can't break bones, but still—forehead to sternum? Bold move."

Bryce rolled her eyes and sighed through her nose, "Sorry. My head's just... full. Everywhere. I wasn't paying attention."

That made him pause. The playful edge in his expression softened—just slightly. Not gone, but dulled. His brow furrowed faintly, and his lips parted like he wanted to say something he wasn't sure he had the right to, "Full of what?" He asked.

There it was. That odd flicker of concern that sometimes peeked through his sarcasm and charm. The one that confused her more than anything.

He reached out and touched her elbow lightly, guiding her down a quieter corridor where the air felt thicker with the weight of silence. No humans nearby. Just shadows. Just ghosts.

    Timothee leaned against the locker, arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to read her mind, "What's going on, Walker?"

Bryce felt suddenly small beneath his gaze. He was taller than her, always had been, but in moments like this—with his voice quieter, his tone more serious, his stare more intense—it felt like she was a rabbit standing in the path of a very still wolf. Curious, but unpredictable.

She hesitated. She didn't want to say the truth. Not all of it. Not yet, "Just..." She swallowed, "Seeing my brother. It messes me up more than I want it to. Gets me thinking."

He hummed softly, something noncommittal in the sound, like he didn't quite believe that was all there was to it. His eyes didn't waver, even as a lock of his hair fell forward over his forehead.

Then, like a switch flipping, his gaze shifted—over her shoulder. A smirk crept back onto his lips, this one sharper, feline, "Well, interesting." He whispered, and before Bryce could even register what he was about to do, he grabbed her with one arm and pulled her into his side.

Her cheek hit the fabric of his jacket-covered chest, and she yelped in shock again, squirming, "What the hell, Timothee—!"

"Shhh," He cooed mockingly, leaning down toward her ear, his breath brushing her skin, "Your loyal guard dog's watching. And he looks pissed."

Bryce's heart stuttered. Her cheeks flamed. She turned slightly in his grip, peeking over her shoulder—just in time to see Wally storming toward them, jaw tight, eyes blazing, and fists clenched at his sides. She blinked, "Wait, what—?"

And then Timothee did it. That smug bastard pressed a playful kiss to her cheek and let her go all at once, stepping back with a low, wicked chuckle, "There," He grinned, voice low as he winked, "Have fun."

"Timothee!" Wally's voice boomed behind them, sounding closer now then before.

The curly-haired troublemaker gave a little wave, already retreating down the hall without a care in the world.

Bryce stood there, red-faced and flustered, still trying to piece together what just happened when Wally rushed up to her like a whirlwind of protective energy.

"You okay?" He asked breathlessly, hands coming up to cup both sides of her neck, his thumbs brushing over her jaw as his wide, worried eyes scanned her face, "Did he hurt you? Did he say something? Bryce, talk to me."

Her chest softened at his concern, and her lips curved into the tiniest of smiles. The W necklace around her throat—the one that always seemed to hold a quiet warmth—tingled gently against her collarbone.

She reached up and placed her hands over his, squeezing once, "I'm fine. Really. It was just Timothee being... well, Timothée."

Wally didn't look convinced. His frown deepened slightly, but he let her go, only to grab her hand instead. Their fingers laced together easily, and he held on like he didn't plan to let go anytime soon, "Mr. Martin's asking for us," He said, voice softer now, "There's a group session in the gym."

Bryce groaned, clenching her fingers around his warm ones that brought her comfort compared to Timothee, "Ugh. More ghost therapy?"

He gave her a lopsided grin, brushing his thumb over her knuckles, "Come on. You can mock it all you want, but at least I'll be there. And maybe someone will finally snap at Timothee again—so bonus."

She rolled her eyes, but a small laugh slipped out anyway, "Fine," She muttered, with their fingers still entwined, they headed down the hall together—toward the gym.

When they did arrive inside the gymnasium, the spirits were sat in a circle on chairs with Mr. Martin per usual, but this time Maddie was there next to the chair Bryce would usually sit if she joined in on the sessions.

A few of the ghosts looked up at the two's arrival, Charley smiling spotting their hands, while Rhonda rolled her eyes fondly and Timothee smirked to himself, both bitterly and amused. Mr. Martin however, had his usual painted smile on, something that made her skin crawl.

Wally gave her hand one last gentle squeeze, before their fingers slowly separated and sat in their normal seats. She was in the middle of him and Maddie, with Timothee on the other side of Maddie for some reason, as normal he sat where Maddie was but this time he wasn't.

The doors to the gym were suddenly opened once more, and students came flooding inside one by one, filling up the normally empty gym that only held the ghosts most of the time. Peace and quiet was ruined, much to Bryce's horror.

"What is it?" Maddie, who broke the silence between the group questioned, all their heads turning to watch the living people walk into the gym.

"I think it's your memorial." Wally answered also looking at the scene, before his doe gaze shifted to the uncomfortable looking Bryce beside him, "And Bry still being missing mention again."

"Vigil." Charley corrected from behind him, gaining the group's attention on him and he smiled awkwardly, "No body, no burial. Same with Bryce."

Bryce stood before she even realized it, her chair scraping slightly against the floor. The motion startled Wally, who immediately straightened, glancing at her with concern. Charley, from where he sat near the teacher, turned at the sound too, brows raised.

"Bry?" Maddie whispered, already rising to her feet beside her.

She didn't answer. She took a step forward, eyes locked on the crowd forming around the podium set up near the front of the gym. Maddie followed her, always steady, their arms brushing as they neared the dividing line between the dead and the living.

It was strange—how close the living felt now. So close she could almost reach out and brush their jackets, hear the rustle of their sighs, the sniffles, the way their shoes squeaked faintly on the floor. But none of them looked their way. None of them ever did.

She saw the principal first, standing behind the mic stand with a few familiar teachers flanking him. He adjusted the mic, "Thank you all for coming. As you know, we are here to spread awareness about the still disappearance of Bryce Walker and the most recent disappearance of Maddie Nears while we work to bring them both home." He said this to the attendees, then gestured to the wall behind them where posters had been pinned up—photos of two smiling girls.

Bryce's missing poster stared back at her, Maddie's beside it.

Then she saw him. Her father.

He was standing near the back, just a few feet away from Maddie's mom. Her heart lodged painfully in her throat. He looked... older. Like he'd aged a decade in a month. His shoulders sagged, his cheeks sunken. The once sharply dressed man she remembered was now rumpled, haunted.

Beside him, Maddie's mother wiped under her eye, holding tightly to a tissue in one hand and a colorful jacket in the other. But it was the woman at her father's side that made Bryce feel like she might shatter.

Rebecca Hale.

She stood far too close to him, her painted face twisted into something that vaguely resembled sadness—but Bryce knew better. Her arm was looped through Archie's like she belonged there, as if she had earned that spot. Around her neck hung one of Bryce's old crystal necklaces—a blue moonstone she thought she'd lost years ago.

The insult burned. Her bottom lip quivered, her face contorting as she fought to swallow the thick knot of emotion in her throat.

She felt Maddie's hand slide onto her arm, gripping softly for comfort. And still... she didn't turn around. She could feel Wally's gaze on her back—warm, unwavering. If she turned now, she knew she'd fall apart. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides instead.

Rebecca had flowers. Tulips—Bryce's favorite.

The audacity.

Her attention was snapped back when the principal called her father's name, "Archie Walker, would you like to say a few words?"

He hesitated upon hearing his name being called. Bryce and Maddie shared a glance, unease flickering between them.

Rebecca patted Archie's arm as if to push him forward, walking with him halfway to the podium before letting go, her fingers brushing along the back of his shoulder in a way that made Bryce's stomach churn.

Archie stood awkwardly at the mic, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. His eyes scanned the room—he looked lost, "H-Hello," He began, his voice cracking slightly before he cleared his throat, "My name is Archie Walker, as you all already know from my company, but... I'm... I'm Bryce's father."

Bryce's jaw tightened.

"She was..." His voice wobbled, and smiled to himself in a bittersweet, "She is a wonderful girl. Full of light, full of... kindness. I think anyone who met her would say the same. My son, Thomas, would agree."

From the crowd, Thomas stared blankly ahead, his fists clenched at his sides. Standing beside him were Simon and—unexpectedly—Xavier who somehow managed to get inside, both of whom looked uncomfortable as hell.

Beside Archie, Rebecca leaned closer to the mic with that overly bright voice Bryce had heard one too many times before, "She was always such a sweetheart. So lovely. Always had a smile on her face, didn't she?"

Bryce grimaced visibly, fingers brushing along her W necklace and Maddie snorted softly, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

Archie continued, more somber now, "There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about her... and all the things I should've done better. All the things I wish I could change." His voice cracked again, and airy laughter followed through next, "I... I wasn't there the way I should've been. I know that."

A cold silence followed, pierced only by the gentle whir of the fans high above.

"And if anyone knows anything—anything at all—about what happened to her or where she might be..." Archie looked out across the crowd, his voice raw, "Please... help us bring her home. Help me find my little girl."

That did it. Bryce looked away sharply, blinking hard, her eyes stinging. She wouldn't cry—not here. Not because of him. But her breath caught as heavy footsteps echoed across the gym floor.

She whipped her head up just in time to see Thomas storming out through the side doors. His entire body shook with rage or grief—probably both. Lucy followed right behind him like a loyal shadow, but this time Bryce noticed something that soothed the sharpness in her chest—Xavier breaking from the crowd and chasing after her brother, shouting after him with concern in his voice.

At least someone real was there for him.

Bryce's throat tightened. Her fingers clenched into the fabric of Maddie's sleeve, who gently leaned into her shoulder.

Back at the podium, Archie stepped down slowly, returning to his spot beside Rebecca—who placed the bouquet of tulips and a small candle beneath the missing posters. She adjusted the crystal necklace around her throat, lifting her chin just slightly as if she knew Bryce was watching.

The message was clear. I have your father. I have your necklace. I'm in your place now.

Bryce's heart ached. Not for herself. But for the version of her that had once believed family meant safety. Love. Home. Seeing her father like this—with her—wasn't closure. It was a wound, reopened. A slap to the face delivered with flowers and false tears.

   It hurt in a way that death hadn't.

Maddie's mother was next at speaking on behalf of her daughter, and even Bryce, which made both the girls eyes to grow more teary, emotions running all over the place hearing what was said. Bryce held on tighter to Maddie, knowing how she felt about her parent speaking as she trembled.

"It's alright. It's fine. You're alright." Hartman reassures her, gently guiding her away by the elbow, and directed his words into the mic next, "Uh, thank you, Mr. Walker, Ms. Nears. Uh, we are all here for you."

The friends shared a matching sad look with one another, as they also stepped back from the podium, and stand beside Charley, who had came up to them upon seeing the state they were in. He had offered to do so, since Wally was going to but Charley bested him before he could.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's reconvene outside in about ten minutes, and remember, one candle per person, please." The principal told the students and teachers gathered around, his finger raised to emphasis what he meant, "Don't be greedy. Now, there are a few safety rules I want to go over before we head out--"

His words become muffle through Bryce's eyes, her hazel eyes were on her father, who was back to tensed and expressionless, something she's seen on him more times than she'd like to count. It hurt her to see knowing her father has done nothing to help with the search for her, well, from what she can see.

She catches Wally's soft gaze from over her shoulder, his brows furrowed in worry for her as she shakes her head, and turns around to follow Maddie out of the gym, away from all the emotions and chaos.

Maddie walks on ahead, but she managed to catch up quickly, even through the crowd that was forming near the exit of the school, and all the students walking out from the gym with candles in their hands.

Her footsteps echo through the hallway, breaking the silence as her inner thoughts. She came to a stop at one of the classrooms, her shoes squeaking against the floors as she do, and poked her head inside to see Simon, crying in the arms of Ms. Fields, one of her favorite teachers in the school that actually cared about students.

Bryce's heart breaks for her friend, never seeing him so sad before but after her disappearance and now Maddie's, he was hit full force with emotions and grief. She trailed up beside the blonde girl, both of them watching Simon with heavy hearts as he cried.

Ms. Fields eventually left to go to their candle ceremony, leaving Simon by himself and the girls to watch him. He walked up to the window, where he watched with blurry eyes at all the students and random people gathered around for his two closest friends.

"Thank you, Simon." Maddie soon whispered her gratitude, her having walked up beside him and Bryce followed next, placing a hand on the blonde's shoulder, both of them expecting no answer back.

If Bryce wasn't distracted by Charley entering the room next, she would of noticed how the W initial chained to her necklace began to glow a faint yellow colour, almost like it was a light that was beginning to flicker on, at the same time that Simon turned to them like he saw a ghost.

      And he did, but two this time.

"Maddie? Bry?"

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❪ ✏️ ❫ 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂 : 4019
─►☆ AUTHOR'S NOTE :
sorry for the lack of updates gang... i've been busy with my other fics and irl in general but here's an update for you all with some wally scenes even though it is a bit sad rn which will only get worse LMFAOAO but wally scenes are coming don't worry 🙏🏻🙏🏻

as you all can probably tell by now.... timothee is deadass insane but i love my pookie anyways and he will play a big part in bryce's story and her plot in this fic so im very excited to write that more 🫦

anywaysss you all know the drill, vote,
comment, ect (if you want) mwah <33