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My arm moves forward just enough for me to slide my key into the door and turn the lock. The click of the door unlocking rings through the hall as I wait, using all my senses to see if someone is hiding in the shadows, but after a few moments of nothing, I push open the door and clamber inside. As soon as I’m over the threshold, I slam the door shut behind me.
“No more reading thrillers for me,” I grumble before dropping my bag onto the floor beside me.
My head falls back onto the closed door with a thump, willing my heart to stop trying to beat its way out of my chest. After a few cleansing breaths, I get myself under control and lock my door before reaching into my backpack and grabbing the mysterious envelope.
“Who sent this?” I cock my head to the side, examining the envelope for any clues but come up empty.
Maybe I should take it to the police.
There’s a chance that someone will listen to what I have to say and take my concerns seriously. But how likely is that? I’m sure the first question they’ll ask is if I’ve talked to the campus security and what they had to say, giving them everything they need to send me packing.
If I’m going to get to the bottom of who’s doing this to me, I’m going to have to do it myself. Gripping the right-hand corner, I rip open the top and pull out a single piece of white paper with three simple words typed on it and nothing else.
Answer the phone.
“What phone?” I mutter, reaching my free hand into my back pocket and pulling out my cell phone. My finger swipes across the screen, bringing it to life, but there isn’t one missed notification, text message, or call. Not that I’m surprised. There are only a few people that even have my phone number, not that any of them use it. The only person who ever calls me is Willa. I occasionally get text messages from my professors, letting me know about class cancelations or schedule changes, but that’s it.
Just as I’m shoving it back into my pocket, a shrill ringing fills the room, and it’s not coming from the phone in my hand. My eyes widen as they follow the sound and focus on my bed. Instead of the mess I left from rolling out of bed late this morning, my bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed and resting at the top of the bed with my teddy bear sitting right in front of them.
“My bed is made.” My eyes zero in on the small black box sitting in the center of my freshly made bed as I struggle to suck in a breath.
My chest tightens as if all the air is being sucked out of the room and someone has wrapped their fingers around my neck. I struggle to take a breath as panic bubbles up from my stomach and settles in my chest. Beads of sweat dot my forehead as my eyes snap shut, my lips moving slightly as I slowly count backward from ten in my head. I continue counting, willing my body to calm down, only getting to three before sucking in a gasping breath and falling to the side. My knees pull up to my chest, and my arms tighten around them.
I need to find something, anything, to ground me.
My eyes snap open and search the room for anything that could help, landing on a photo of Willa and me from right before she moved to Chicago. Her once-platinum blonde hair has streaks of purple and pink running through it, her head resting on top of mine, with her arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. We both have bright smiles on our faces and tears pooling in our eyes.
Deep breath in and let it out slowly.
My dirty blonde hair was piled on top of my head, and I was wearing my now-favorite Nirvana T-shirt I got at a secondhand store the day before this picture was taken. We’re standing in front of the tire swing we begged our foster father to put up in the large tree in the backyard when we were younger. We spent almost every day out there, telling each other secrets and planning for the future, making it the perfect place to take one last picture together at our childhood home.
Deep breath in and let it out slowly.
I can barely focus on anything but the pain radiating through my chest as I try to focus on that day I spent with my sister. That was one of the happiest and saddest days of my life. Willa was on her way to bigger and better things, but she was leaving me alone to fend for myself and find my way through the world.
No! Happy thoughts only.
Willa was so excited about the job she snagged at a club in the city. I remember when she showed me a picture of the apartment she spent two years saving for. We talked about how she was going to decorate it and how much she was looking forward to having her own place to call home.
In and out. In and out.
I gasp for breath, my cheeks and chest feeling like they’re on fire as I allow the air to slowly fill my lungs, easing my panic. I push up to a seated position, resting my back against the door for a second time. The tightness in my chest subsides, allowing me to breathe easier.
I should run as far and as fast as I can away from this room, hell, this state, but where would I go? I already reported my concerns to the campus police, and they blew me off. I doubt the police will be any different. There isn’t a person in the world that would believe that I’m being followed, especially with no proof.
I thump my head against the door a few times, trying to think of something—anything—else. Fear once again tightens its grip around my heart, but this time, I fight it. I need to get a grip. Obviously, there’s someone that wants my attention, and now they have it. I just need to figure out what they want and why, but I can’t do that from my dorm room floor.
Maybe I can go visit Willa?
I don’t know much about my sister’s life in Chicago, but I only have one final at the end of the week. I don’t want to bring my problems to my sister’s doorstep, but I don’t have anyone else to turn to. If there’s anyone that can help me figure out this mess, it’s Willa. Plus, getting out of town for a little while doesn’t seem like a bad idea. I doubt whoever is doing this is going to just magically disappear, but they may lose interest and move on to someone else. In my mind, this whole thing has gone way beyond practical joke territory. I just wish there was someone else out there who’d believe me.
Willa will know what to do.
With my mind made up, I push to my feet and pull out my phone for the second time, swiping my thumb across the screen to unlock it. As if I conjured her out of thin air, my phone chimes, and an unread text message from my sister appears on the screen.
“Speak of the devil,” I say into the empty room before opening the message.
Willa:
