Chapter 2: Accusations, Fear, and the Truth Revealed

The resident advisor looked about as thrilled as a cat in a bathtub when we pounded on her door in the middle of the night, but once she heard our story, her face drained of color too.

"Natalie, I’ll contact your student counselor and have her speak with your parents. Maybe it’s time to see a doctor. For now, you should stay in the empty room upstairs."

Natalie’s eyes were red as she packed her things, moving quick. She shot us a photo in the group chat: her new door barricaded with a folding chair, textbooks, and a laundry basket. Duct tape crisscrossed the knob. Her message popped up, full of frantic emojis—watermelons, locks, even a little police siren. ["I’ve already locked the door and blocked it with a ton of things. All the sharp objects are gone. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt anyone."]

Seeing that, a lump rose in my throat. Aubrey muttered, "Were we too harsh?" Tanya, arms crossed, fired back, "Too harsh? Wait until she splits your head open, then see if you still think we’re too harsh!" Her Georgia twang was clipped short, all business. For the first time, Tanya looked truly rattled. Aubrey twisted her hair, eyes wet.

We were all from different majors, and after Natalie moved out, the days blurred by in silence. Three days later, just before dawn, a scream ripped through the dorm.

"Who’s shrieking like a banshee at this hour?" Tanya grumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Aubrey scrambled for her phone, eyes wide. "Someone just posted in our Econ & Management group chat. Someone in our dorm building died."

"What?" Tanya and I both sat bolt upright. Tanya asked, "Which room? How did they die?"

Aubrey’s face blanched. "It’s the floor above us. The victim’s head was split clean in half. They said... it was just like slicing a watermelon."

For a moment, the only sound was the group chat pinging over and over. Tanya’s fists clenched. I tasted fear, sharp and metallic.

The whole dorm went dead silent. We all thought of Natalie. I finally spoke, voice trembling. "It... it couldn’t be Natalie, right? Didn’t she say she locked her door and blocked it with stuff?"

Tanya said coldly, "But I’ve seen movies where sleepwalkers can open doors and even ride bikes while asleep."

A thick silence settled. Aubrey tried to break it: "Okay, let’s stop scaring ourselves. The police will figure it out. Let’s not dwell on it."

In the bathroom, the mirror was foggy as we brushed our teeth in silence, water running too loud. I caught my own pale reflection and realized we all looked just as scared as we felt. Tanya tried to hum a pop song, but her voice shook.

Campus buzzed all day. The victim—a freshman from English—had her head split in two. Rumors swirled: first about the head, then about her brain disappearing. Police cars lined the sidewalk; yellow tape flapped in the wind. No one wanted to go anywhere alone.

That night, as we sat in the cafeteria, a tray slammed down on our table. Natalie’s face beamed up at us. "Aubrey, Tanya, Morgan! Long time no see!"

The three of us froze. Natalie dug into her food, chatting away. "It’s all because our Foreign Languages building is so far from yours. Ever since I moved out, I haven’t seen you guys at all. How have you been lately?"

I finally blurted, "Natalie, have you dreamed about cutting watermelons these past few nights?"

Natalie blinked. "No, I’ve been dreaming about eating mac and cheese lately. Why do you ask?"

Just then, girls at the next table gossiped: "Did you hear about the murder in the girls’ dorm? They say the killer split the victim’s head in half, just like slicing a watermelon."

Natalie’s face went pale. "You... you think I killed that girl from the English Department?"

We stayed silent. Tears welled in Natalie’s eyes. "Is that how you see me? I told you, I don’t have any sharp objects in my dorm, and I lock my door tight every night. I check every morning. You really don’t believe me?"

Aubrey tried, "Natalie, that’s not what we meant..."

But Natalie grabbed her tray—juice splattering the floor, echoing the watermelon image—and ran out, sobbing. The cafeteria went silent.

We lost our appetites. Back in our room, the girl next door appeared, looking mysterious. "Did you hear? There’s been a development in the murder case upstairs. The police checked all the security cameras in our dorm hallway, and nobody was seen entering or leaving the victim’s room. So now, the three roommates of the deceased are the main suspects. They’ve all been taken to the police station for questioning."

Stunned silence. Tanya muttered, "Guess we’re not living in a true crime podcast after all."

Aubrey whispered, "Should we apologize to Natalie? If people thought I was a murderer, I’d be upset too."

Tanya shrugged. "We never accused her, we just asked about her dreams. She’s being too sensitive. If we apologize, it’ll just make things more awkward."

We let it go and went to bed. The dorm was quiet as we brushed our teeth, plugged in our phones, and pulled the blackout curtains tight. No one spoke. I lay awake, wishing I could take everything back.

I don’t know how long I’d been asleep, when—

Knock, knock, knock.

I jolted awake. 2:00 a.m. My blood ran cold. Aubrey’s nightlight flicked on, Tanya sat up. Aubrey’s voice trembled, "Wh-who’s there...?"

A shadow shifted under the door crack, the faint hum of the vending machine drifting from down the hall. Then Natalie’s voice: "It’s me, Natalie."

In the faint light, Tanya’s face drained of color. Aubrey tumbled off her bunk and into my arms, shaking. We all thought the same thing: Was Natalie awake—or sleepwalking?

I blurted, "Why are you here?"

A pause, then a soft laugh. "I just finished cutting a very ripe watermelon. Do you want to try some?"

Natalie’s voice was so cheery it sent a chill up my spine. The hallway was silent except for the vending machine’s drone. I pressed my back into the wall, wishing I could disappear.

4

Dead silence. Tanya’s face was white as chalk. Aubrey collapsed against me, trembling. I tried to sound calm: "Don’t... don’t be scared. Didn’t the police already clear Natalie? The murder had nothing to do with her. She must just be sleepwalking... Besides, our door is locked..."

But Aubrey started shaking harder. "I... I just remembered, I was the last one to bed tonight. I forgot to lock the door..."

My hands went numb. Natalie’s cheerful voice from outside: "Oh, so you didn’t lock the door. Then I’m coming in!"

Click. The door creaked open.

The old dorm door squealed, dragging out the moment. My heart pounded. Tanya looked ready to grab her field hockey stick. Aubrey’s grip on my sleeve was vice-tight.

5

"Jesus, Natalie!" Aubrey shrieked, flinging herself into my arms.

Tanya jumped up to restrain Natalie but froze. Natalie walked in under the nightlight, holding a jagged half-watermelon in her hands. Her eyes were bright, her smile wide.

All the tension broke. Tanya snapped out of it, smacking Natalie’s arm. "Natalie! Are you messing with us?!"

"Ow!" Natalie rubbed her arm but grinned, teeth pink with fruit. "Serves you right for thinking I was the killer! I just wanted to give you a scare as payback. And I didn’t lie—I really did bring watermelon for you."

The sweet, sticky scent filled the room. Juice ran down her wrists, and she plopped the jagged half-melon onto our tiny table. Aubrey calmed down, took Natalie’s hand.

"Natalie, we’re really sorry about earlier. We didn’t mean to doubt you, it’s just..."

"I know," Natalie smiled. "When I sleepwalk, I can’t control myself, and you’re afraid I’ll do something scary. But don’t worry, I’ve taken a ton of precautions. My parents are taking me to see a doctor next week. I won’t hurt anyone."

"Alright, enough about that. Let’s eat watermelon!"

She sighed. "Do you know how much trouble it was to get this watermelon? I didn’t dare keep a knife in my room, so I had to split it open with my bare hands. Got juice all over myself."

We crowded around the little table, the sweet scent of watermelon filling the air. Natalie wiped her sticky hands on a roll of paper towels, grinning sheepishly. Tanya rolled her eyes and started divvying up the ragged pieces with a plastic fork. Under the glow of Aubrey’s nightlight, we laughed—real laughter—for the first time in days.

I knew we’d never forget the night the watermelon dream almost turned real—and how, somehow, we were still here, together.