Chapter 1: The Doll and the Midnight Call

I realized my empathy doll—my only comfort on the worst nights—was gone. And the only person who could have it was Derek, my oldest enemy.

The moment I discovered it missing, an icy prickle crawled up my spine. Of course it had to be him. That doll had gotten me through too many sleepless nights for me to just let it go.

I set out to get it back, but instead I stumbled onto chat overlays lighting up his screen:

[Come on, finish me off, I dare you]

[I just love watching enemies get roasted, it’s so satisfying]

The neon glow from my phone bled into my dark room. My fingers went numb, and I nearly dropped the phone. Those words burned into my brain, making it feel like someone else was in the room with me, jeering.

That night, fear kept me wide awake.

I couldn’t stop picturing my hands and feet being smashed, then thrown into a deep fryer to sizzle and pop.

Every little creak in my apartment made me jump. Outside, the city buzzed on, indifferent—headlights drifting over my ceiling as I clung to my blanket like a lifeline.

But just as my nerves were about to snap—

A gentle pressure brushed my skin, soft and warm, as if someone was right there beside me in the dark, carefully kissing my fingertip.

1

I jerked my hand back, startled.

In my tiny twin bed, it was definitely just me.

But the soft feeling on my fingertip wasn’t my imagination.

Could it have been... Derek?

I tossed and turned all night, unable to calm down.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that half-formed shadow leaning in from the dark. My mind ran wild with old memories, flickering and raw.

After hesitating forever, I hid out on the apartment balcony and finally called him.

My hands shook as I opened the sliding door, stepping into the brisk Ohio air. The city below glowed with the orange haze of streetlights and headlights weaving through the early morning. I fiddled with my phone, thumb hovering over his name.

By accident, I hit video call instead of voice.

My heart stuttered. I hadn’t even brushed my hair.

Derek picked up right away.

His room was dim, his face mostly hidden, but I could hear his hoarse voice, a little out of breath.

It sounded like I’d interrupted something—he sounded annoyed, but in that casual, American way.

“This better not be a prank, Melissa.”

His words were clipped, but beneath them, I heard a weird tremor, like he was trying to keep it together. I imagined him sprawled on his unmade bed, face half buried in a pillow, glaring at the phone screen.

I asked, “Where’s my doll?”

Derek paused for a long time, then lazily replied, “I tossed it to my dog as a toy. Why?”

I knew Derek’s little dog, a snow-white Bichon named Daisy. She was gentle and always whimpered when she saw me.

If it was Daisy, it would make sense for her to kiss me.

I pictured Daisy’s little nose nudging my hand, begging for the peanut butter biscuits I always brought her. That memory eased my nerves just a little.

But thinking about those chat comments, I was still uneasy.

“Don’t do anything weird to my doll.”

Especially don’t throw it into a pot of oil and deep fry it.

The image was so absurd, but it stuck. I tried to laugh, but it caught in my throat. Some wounds just never scab over.

Derek was eerily silent for a moment, then scoffed, “You’re overthinking. Even if you were standing right in front of me, I wouldn’t do anything, let alone to a doll.”

Oh, did he misunderstand?

I felt a little embarrassed and was about to hang up.

A weird kind of heat crawled up my neck. My finger hovered over the end call button.

Suddenly, I saw more chat overlays:

[...Bro, put your pants on before you talk.]

[Is this sarcasm or are you getting flustered? I can tell.]

[Connecting to surprise college dude, did you hear? I’m connecting to the campus heartthrob.]