Shadow of pain

Em’s a new pupil and prey to many bullies. I met her in this century-old school when we were amid troubled teenage tantrums coupled with tormenting seniors. We share a favorite spot, a hallway overseeing the ground, a serenity sanctum.
We bonded close. I guided and helped from my experience. Eventually, she opened her petals and sought self-assurance.
Each old school has a history, some with secrets, probably not ghosts. But this- home to tortured souls, victims of abuse. Lucky, Em’s merely one.
When she quizzes again, I’ll confess- I’m one of those souls, now, called a ghost.