Chapter 53 Another investigation
The morning air felt too quiet. Even the birds outside the dorm window sounded distant as if the whole campus was holding its breath.
Lila sat on the edge of her bed, the bedsheet tangled around her legs, staring at the faint light sneaking through the curtains. She hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, the words from the message burned behind her eyelids. “Red suits you, but not everyone gets to keep their color.”
She rubbed her arms. Her skin prickled with cold. The phone still lay on the nightstand, and the message she read seemed memorized. The small rose sticker on the back of her case caught the light, and her chest tightened.
Who would send something like that?
Her first thought had been Asher, but no he wouldn’t joke about that. Could it be Damian? That's impossible. Professor Mercer? Beckett?
The thought made her stomach twist.
She stood up, trying to shake off the weight in her chest. “It’s just a message,” she whispered to herself. “Just mere words.”
But her voice trembled.
When she finally stepped outside, the corridor smelled faintly of detergent and burnt toast. Students hurried past, whispering in small groups. Their voices were low, but she caught pieces of their words.
“Did you hear? Another girl went missing.”
“She’s a Fine Arts major, second year.”
“They found her sketchbook near the east path.”
Lila’s heart skipped. She wanted to ask, to confirm, but her throat refused to work. She kept walking. Her steps felt too loud, echoing in the hallway.
As she reached the dorm exit, four girls near the staircase glanced at her with just quick, sharp looks, then whispers followed.
“She has red hair too, right?” one said softly.
The other nodded. “Yeah. Just like.” The rest was swallowed by their giggles.
Lila stopped, pretending to tie her shoelace, pretending not to hear. But her pulse thudded so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.
They’re talking about her.
She straightened and hurried out the door, clutching her bag tighter.
Outside, the morning breeze was cool, almost too gentle for a day like this. Police cars were still parked near the east gate, lights flashing faintly against the old brick walls. A yellow barrier cordoned off the path that led to the art building.
A group of students stood behind the tape, murmuring. Some filmed with their phones; others just stared, faces pale and curious.
Lila froze on the sidewalk. The flashing lights reflected off her hair, the red strands glowing under the sun.
For a moment, she imagined a camera focusing on her and her name whispered, her story repeated, her photo shared. Just like before. Just like Ruby and Serena.
Her throat ached. She wanted to turn around and run back to her room, hide under the blanket, shut the world out but her feet wouldn’t move.
She stood there, watching the chaos like she didn’t belong in her body anymore.
Someone brushed past her shoulder. “Excuse me.”
It was a tall boy carrying sketch rolls, a Fine Arts student. His eyes met hers briefly, and he frowned, recognition flickering. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “It’s starting again.”
Her stomach dropped.
Again? That word echoed inside her like a pulse.
She turned away, walking faster now, her shoes scraping against the pavement.
By the time she reached the philosophy building, her palms were slick with sweat. The halls buzzed with low chatter, news travels fast in a place like this.
A poster on the noticeboard caught her eye: Missing Eileen Fisher, Fine Arts Department. Below it was a grainy photo of a smiling girl with dark bangs and paint on her hands.
Lila’s breath hitched. Eileen had sat two rows ahead of her in an elective last semester. She’d been kind, she had laughed loudly, always drawing something in the margins of her notebook.
Now she was gone.
The world tilted slightly. The poster blurred.
Lila blinked hard, pressing her hand to the wall for balance.
No more. Please, no more.
She wanted to scream. To tell someone she knew what it felt like to lose, to fear, to wait for the next knock on the door. But her lips wouldn’t open.
A small group of students walked by, whispering again. This time she didn’t need to guess the subject.
“She’s cursed,” one of them said quietly.
“Everywhere she goes, someone dies.”
“Don’t say that,” another whispered, but didn’t sound convinced.
“It’s the truth. Her sister, then her roommate.”
Lila turned her face away, pretending to study the board. Her fingers trembled as she tucked her hair behind her ear, but her heart felt numb.
She could feel their eyes burning holes in her back.
Her phone buzzed it was a notification for her first lecture, she forced herself to move. Her body felt heavy, her head too light.
She walked into the classroom, keeping her eyes down. She could feel the shift in the air, the silence, the way voices dropped as she passed.
.She opened her notebook, though she didn’t remember bringing it. The pen in her hand trembled as she tried to write the date at the top of the page.
Stay calm. Don’t give them what they want.
Professor Beckett wasn’t there yet. The room hummed with quiet conversations. From somewhere behind her, she heard the words again, faint but sharp enough to slice through her chest.
“Red hair. It's the ones with red hair.”
Her jaw tightened. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.
When Beckett finally entered, everyone straightened, pretending to be normal again. Lila stared at the board, trying to focus, but her thoughts scattered like paper in the wind.
The chalk squeaked. Voices blurred. Her pulse roared in her ears.
Her eyes drifted to the window. Outside, beyond the trees, the faint glint of police lights still flickered in the distance.
And for a brief, terrifying moment, she thought she saw someone standing there watching her.
She blinked, and the figure was gone.
Her pen dropped to the floor.
It’s nothing, she told herself. You’re imagining things again.
But deep down, she wasn’t sure she believed that anymore.