Chapter 22 The Chaos
A single rose petal drifted down between them, landing softly on the floor.
Lila’s gaze followed it, her heart hammering.
Ruby didn’t even notice. She was laughing at a text, thumb tapping away. “Sorry, my friend’s asking if I made it into the dorm okay,” she said, glancing up. “You good?”
Lila swallowed, forcing herself to breathe. “Yeah. Just… tired.”
“Cool,” Ruby said brightly. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Lila nodded, but her mind was already racing. What if the killer is watching Ruby? Who would he kill first?
Lila turned to put her bag on the bed, forcing her hands not to shake. When she looked up again, Ruby was unpacking like she was moving into a dream house. Her voice filled the small dorm room like sunlight through an open curtain, bright and warm for the gray evening pressing against the windowpanes.
Humming, she unzipped a floral suitcase and began lining the shelves with scented candles, framed photos, and a string of tiny, glowing fairy lights. One by one, she clipped Polaroids onto them, faces of friends, all smiling, all with that same startling shade of red hair.
The air slowly shifted to something sweet and heavy, smelling of vanilla lotion and strawberry shampoo.
Lila sat on the edge of her bed, still half-packed from her trip home. Her hands rested on her duffel bag like she might have to grab it again. She tried to smile when Ruby turned, holding up a framed photo.
“This one’s my favorite,” Ruby said. “It’s from our last day at the summer program. God, it feels like years ago.”
The picture showed five girls sitting on the grass, laughing with cups in hand. Red hair everywhere, catching the sun.
Lila forced a nod. “Looks…nice.”
Ruby plopped onto her bed with an easy laugh. “You’re quiet,” she said. “Were you always this serious?”
Lila looked down at her hands. “Only on weekdays.”
Ruby grinned, the kind of grin that felt like it could disarm anyone. “I think we’ll get along. I’m not one of those loud roommates. I just keep to myself with a cup of tea, music, and bad documentaries. You?”
“Reading. Photography,” Lila said.
“Oh!” Ruby perked up. “You’re in the photography minor, right? Professor Mercer talks about you sometimes. He says you’ve got an eye.”
Lila’s chest tightened at the mention of Mercer’s name. She tried to keep her voice level. “He…mentioned me?”
“Yeah, something about your sister too, I think. He said you had her courage.” Ruby smiled, utterly innocent. “You must’ve been close.”
Lila’s throat dried. The room seemed to narrow. “We were.”
Ruby didn’t notice. She was already rearranging perfume bottles. “He’s a great professor. Always so kind. You’re lucky he actually cares about his students.”
The words struck something deep in Lila, a memory she didn’t want. Mercer’s smile, the soft tone in his voice, the way he said you remind me of someone brave.
She looked away, out the window, to the courtyard below which was empty now except for the scattered lamplight and the faint silver outline of benches.
By midnight, the room smelled like sugar and smoke from one of Ruby’s candles.
Lila couldn’t sleep.
She lay on her side, staring at the ceiling. Every sound scraped her nerves raw including the hum of the radiator, Ruby’s faint breathing, the soft click of the candle flame shifting.
Her thoughts spiraled, she thought about Beckett’s watch, the photographs,the roses. The lines she read in Serena's diary.
Lila turned, eyes tracing Ruby’s sleeping shape under the blanket. She slept peacefully. Her red hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink in the dark. She seemed so alive, so untouched by the rot hanging over this campus.
Maybe I’m imagining everything, Lila thought. Maybe I’m losing it, just like Mom feared.
She pressed her face into the pillow. The fabric smelled faintly of lavender.
Suddenly, she heard something. Not the wind. Not the radiator. Something softer and rhythmic. A faint hum, a melody.
She lifted her head. Ruby was still. The sound wasn’t coming from her.
It was coming from the window.
Lila’s breath hitched. She sat up slowly, her pulse hammering.The curtains trembled not from air, but as if someone had brushed against them from outside.
No, no. You’re imagining it.
She pushed off the blanket and walked toward the window. Her reflection met her halfway pale, and wide-eyed. The humming stopped.
She waited. Then she heard nothing.
Just when she was about to leave the window, she saw movement.
Outside, under the yellow wash of the courtyard lamp, someone stood near the benches. A shape, tall, still, the edges of their coat barely moving in the wind. Their head was tilted up toward her window.
For a long moment, neither moved.
The air around Lila thickened, as if time were holding its breath.
She blinked. The figure was gone.
A trick of light, maybe. Or not. Her hands shook as she reached for her phone, but the screen refused to focus. Her pulse drowned out everything else.
When she looked again, the courtyard was empty, just the lamplight and the shadows.
She climbed back into bed, every muscle in her body was tight. The silence was unbearable. She tried to listen for Ruby’s breathing again, for that small proof that she wasn’t alone.
But the other bed was empty.
Lila froze.
“Ruby?” she whispered.
No response.
The bathroom door was closed. Light seeped through the crack beneath it, faint and warm. She exhaled shakily. Maybe Ruby couldn’t sleep either. Maybe she was just washing her face.
A chill crept up Lila's spine, and she stood frozen.
A few seconds later, she lay back down, staring at the ceiling again, trying to breathe evenly. But minutes passed. The light under the bathroom door didn’t move.
The silence started to hum in her ears.
Then came the tap sound on the glass.
Lila’s heart stopped.
The windowpane shivered faintly, as if touched by fingers. Three deliberate knocks.
She turned her head toward the sound, the air caught in her throat.
The curtains swayed, faintly, brushing the edge of the desk.
The third tap lingered longer, scraping instead of knocking and the sound of something dragging gently across the glass.
Lila couldn’t move.
Her mind screamed that she should call someone, run, do something but her body disobeyed.
Another sound followed. Not a knock this time, but a hum. It was soft, wordless and familiar.
The same tune she’d heard earlier.
Her chest constricted.
Slowly, she reached out, her fingers trembling, and pulled the curtain an inch aside.
The courtyard below was still and empty.
She exhaled shakily, half a sob. Her eyes stung. Maybe it was just her, the exhaustion, the stress, and everything bleeding together.
She turned to glance at the bathroom door again. The light was still there. But now, faintly, she heard water running.
She’s in there, she thought. She’s fine. It’s fine.
But as she sank back into bed, something pricked her hand.
She looked down.
A single red petal lay on her blanket.
Her stomach turned to ice.
It was fresh, and damp. Like it had just fallen from somewhere.
She looked toward Ruby’s bed. The sheets were smooth, and undisturbed. The faint scent of roses in the air now mixed with the candle’s sweetness.
Lila’s pulse thundered.
The petal stuck to her palm as she stood, heart hammering. She turned toward the bathroom, her voice barely steady.
“Ruby?”