It's been 18 hours since Lila vanished.
And in that time, I've called her thirteen times.
Texted her. Emailed her. Even DMed her old Instagram account that she hadn't posted on since January.
Nothing.
No response. No "I need space." No "I'm safe."
Just silence.
And then there's the message. The one that's burned into my brain like a bad tattoo:
> She was right to run. Now it's your turn.
I don't know who sent it. The number disappeared five minutes after it buzzed my phone, deleted from my messages like it was never there. I even tried showing the message to a tech-savvy friend from campus but he couldn't trace it.
I didn't sleep that night.
Instead, I sat at the edge of Lila's bed, surrounded by the ghost of her. Her vanilla-shea lotion still lingered on her pillow. The earrings she always wore on Saturdays were still in the little bowl near her desk. Her favorite copy of The Alchemist lay face-down on the windowsill, bookmarked on page 73 right in the middle of a sentence.
No one leaves like that.
Not without saying goodbye.
Unless they were running.
Or hiding.
By morning, I finally opened her laptop again.
This time, I dug deeper. Beyond the chat window, beyond the video. I looked through everything ...her saved notes, voice memos, drafts, and even an encrypted folder labeled "For A".
I knew the password in seconds.
It was my middle name.
Inside were three files:
1. A folder of time-stamped videos labeled with Devon's initials.
2. Screenshots of anonymous messages from a second number.
3. A letter ... one she never sent me.
Amara,
If you're reading this, then I didn't get the chance to explain in person. Maybe I was too scared. Maybe I ran. But the truth is, I've been watching him for a while.
Devon isn't who he says he is. I didn't want to believe it at first I really didn't. You looked so happy, and I didn't want to ruin that. But I started noticing things. Little things. The way he looked at girls who walked past, the way he'd show up in places he wasn't supposed to be. I brushed it off… until I couldn't.
The girl in the video? Not his cousin. Her name's Renée. She dropped out of school last semester. No one's seen her since.
I think he's dangerous, Amara. I think he's done something terrible. And I think you're next.
If I disappear , don't believe a word he says.
Lila
I stared at the screen until the tears came, slow and blinding.
I had trusted him. I had doubted her.
I was too ashamed to even breathe.
I spent the rest of the day combing through the footage. Lila had recorded everything — Devon meeting Renée in different places, always private, always far from campus. In the last video, Renée looked scared. She tried to pull away. He held her wrist.
Then the clip cut off.
I couldn't find anything after that.
Just like Lila said Renée vanished not long after.
I searched her name online. Nothing concrete. Just whispers on school forums and a few cryptic Reddit threads from concerned classmates. No police reports. No family statements.
It was like she had never existed.
My stomach turned.
I needed answers. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I didn't care how dangerous it was.
I showed up at Devon's apartment just before sunset.
I didn't knock. I buzzed once and when he answered all sweet, smooth, and surprised, I lied through my teeth.
"Can we talk?"
He opened the door with a smile that could sell poison.
"You look beautiful," he said.
I smiled back.
"Thanks," I said. "It's the glow of betrayal."
His smile faltered.
I walked past him into the apartment and sat on the couch like I belonged there. He stood a moment longer, studying me probably wondering what I knew. What I saw.
"I found Lila's laptop," I said.
His eyes didn't flinch. Not even once.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a printed screenshot a still from the video where he grabbed Renée's wrist.
"You want to explain this?"
He stared at it. Then back at me.
"I told you," he said, voice low. "Lila was obsessed. She followed me around, made me look like a creep, took things out of context..."
"She said Renée disappeared."
Silence.
"She said she thought you did something to her."
Devon sat across from me. Calm. Too calm.
"And you believe her?"
I didn't answer. Not with words.
I just stared.
His gaze hardened. The smooth mask slipped. And for a split second, I saw something else in his eyes.
Something cold.
Calculated.
And not even remotely sorry.
He leaned forward.
"I told you not to let her get in your head," he said quietly. "But I guess it's too late now."
My heart dropped.
I stood up.
He didn't move.
"You should leave," he said.
I was already halfway to the door.
"Be careful, Amara. You're digging into things you don't understand."
I stopped with my hand on the doorknob.
"Funny," I said, voice steady, "that's exactly what Lila said before she disappeared."
I didn't wait for his reply.
I ran.
That night, I went back through the files again every photo, every voice memo, every small piece Lila left behind.
And that's when I found it.
A recording. Just audio.
Date: 6 days ago.
I hit play.
Lila (whispering): "If anything happens to me, go to the basement of the art building. Behind the second storage panel. He hid something there. I saw him. It's what he didn't want anyone to find. Amara, if you love me, please don't trust him."
My chest clenched.
Whatever Devon had done…
Whatever Lila had found…
It was waiting there.
In the dark.
And I was going to find it.