Betty pressed her back against the cold brick wall outside the activity room, struggling to control her breathing so no one would hear her hiding there. She held a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with terror.
No one discovered her. When the sound of shouting faded and the hallway grew quiet, she exhaled sharply, her hand dropping from her mouth as she slumped away from the door. Her heart raced, her mind refusing to slow down.
She never imagined anyone could be so unhinged, so driven, that they would try to kill another person over a celebrity they admired.
Her breath quivered. She pulled her phone from her pocket, ready to call the police. Then she froze, shaking her head and slipping the phone back into her pocket. She had no evidence—nothing solid. If she called the police now, it wouldn't stop those women, and it might very well bring trouble onto her own head. She wasn't the kind of person to throw herself recklessly into danger for justice.
She needed to think.
Once home, she took a long shower but still couldn't quiet her mind. She lay on the edge of her bed in her pajamas, thoughts tumbling through her head like a storm, twisting and looping without rest. Sleep evaded her until the deep hours of the night.
Suddenly, she bolted upright, gasping awake.
Another nightmare. The same disheveled woman covered in blood haunted her dreams again. Why did that woman keep appearing?
Betty's detective instincts flared, pushing aside fear. She grabbed a pen and paper from her bedside table and began scribbling notes, sketches, anything she could think of. Ten minutes later she stood, paper in hand, and walked purposefully down the hall toward the storage room.
Barefoot, she opened the door and pulled out a heavy fire axe. She carried it back into her room with an unreadable expression.
With the axe in hand, she went to the wall beside her bed. Her breath tightened.
"This is it," she murmured, eyes fixed. "If I'm right, it has to be here."
She lifted the axe and swung it with everything she had. The blade struck the wall with a harsh crack, dust falling like rain.
Bang.
Pain pulsed in her arms, but she didn't stop. She raised the axe again and struck, harder.
Bang.
The wall cracked deeper.
Down the hall, Betty's roommate heard the noise and rushed toward the sound. When she opened the door, her jaw dropped. Betty was swinging an axe with fierce intensity at the wall.
"Uh…"
Seeing her friend's wild eyes and crazed movements, she froze, stunned. Part of her wanted to run, convinced Betty had lost her mind.
But then she hesitated. Could she really leave her like this?
Summoning her courage, she asked quietly, "Betty, what are you doing?"
Betty didn't look at her. She just kept chopping.
The hollow impact of the axe on the wall filled the room, echoing in the darkness. Just as her roommate backed away, ready to flee, Betty cried out in surprise.
"Found it! I knew I was right!"
Her roommate crept closer, concern shading her face. "Betty, are you okay?"
Breathing heavily, Betty lowered the axe. "Come look."
"What?"
Her roommate stepped forward, confused. In the wall was a large hole Betty had carved, revealing a hollow space inside.
And something was in it.
Though afraid, her curiosity pushed her closer. Moonlight gleamed through the window, giving shape to what lay hidden within the wall.
"Ah!"
A scream tore from her throat.
Inside, wrapped in dust, was a skeleton. All that remained were white bones and a skull with long hair still clinging to it. Someone had been walled in alive.
On the wrist was a bracelet made of green Kryptonite.
Betty walked closer, her fear tempered by fascination. "This is why I've seen her," she said, voice trembling with conviction. "That woman in my dreams, the one covered in blood, she was trying to get me to find her. She was murdered and sealed behind this wall."
Her roommate stared in disbelief. "You found a body and you're still deducing? We should call the police."
Betty reached out to touch the Kryptonite bracelet. The moment her fingers brushed it, a cold pulse swept through her body—sharp, deep, like living shadows twisting into her mind. Her vision blurred, control slipping as something else stirred within her consciousness.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment she was swallowed by darkness.
"Betty, are you okay?" her roommate asked, shaking her gently.
Betty's eyes opened abruptly—but they were different now, colder, fiercer. A small, unfamiliar smile curved at the corners of her mouth.
"I'm fine," she said softly, voice calm. "Just sad. A young woman in the prime of her life, murdered and left to rot. She deserved better."
"How do you know she was young? Or that she was murdered?"
Betty smiled faintly. "I just do. Trust me."
She looked at her roommate with a strange intensity. "Maybe you should call the police now."
"Oh, right," her roommate stammered, turning toward the door.
As soon as her back was turned, Betty's face went unreadable, her voice dropping to a low whisper.
"No matter what," she murmured to the lifeless bones, "her revenge will burn brighter than fear."
Meanwhile, in Metropolis
Adrian walked through the busy city streets, holding Rachel's hand. These quiet moments with his sister were rare and precious—remnants of calm amidst the chaos of their lives.
Up ahead, he saw a familiar figure waiting by the curb. Lana stood, scanning the street, apparently preparing to cross.
When she saw Adrian, her face lit up. She jogged over to them.
"Hey, Adrian!" she said, smiling brightly.
"I was just on my way to visit Uncle Jonathan at the hospital," she continued, still catching her breath. "And I didn't expect to see you here."
"Funny how life works," Adrian replied with his usual casual tone, studying her carefully.
She wore a light yellow coat, stylish sunglasses, and just enough makeup to hint she might be on a date.
"Are you… on a date?" he asked, eyebrow slightly raised.
Lana's cheeks flushed, and she quickly shook her head. Before she could speak, Adrian added, "Probably not. After all, Clark's got his hands full with someone else right now."
Lana blinked, startled by the comment, but she recovered quickly.
"No date," she said, smoothing her expression. "But I heard there's a famous fortune teller shop nearby."