Chapter 2: Missing Pieces and Vanishing Truths

She stretched, yawning with a tiny squeak, then wagged her tail and tried to climb out of the box. My heart did a little flip.

She gently licked my hand with her soft, pink tongue. It wasn’t sticky—just warm.

Her tongue was like velvet, and she looked up at me with those big, trusting eyes. I scratched behind her ears, and she made a happy little grunt.

So cute. My heart melted just looking at her. Seriously, she was the best.

For a moment, all the weirdness faded away. It was just me, Peanut, and the soft light spilling across my desk. I could’ve stayed like that forever.

Seeing this, Lily hurried over to feed Peanut with me, and the two of us were all smiles.

Lily’s grin was contagious. She scooped up Peanut, cradling her like a baby, and we laughed as Peanut nibbled on the kibble we’d smuggled in from the dining hall.

I focused all my attention on the puppy, ignoring Autumn’s burning gaze.

I could feel her eyes on me, heavy and watchful, but I refused to look up. Not now. Not today. I kept my head down, letting Peanut’s soft yips drown out everything else.

Zoe went out to meet her boyfriend, Marcus Lane, and Lily was getting ready to go to the library.

Zoe spritzed on perfume and checked her lipstick in the mirror before heading out, humming under her breath. Lily stuffed her backpack with textbooks, her glasses sliding down her nose.

No way was I staying there alone. To avoid being alone with Autumn, I grabbed my iPad and left with Lily.

I pretended to need to print something for class, but really, I just didn’t want to be alone in that room. The halls were quiet, the hum of the vending machine oddly comforting.

“Do you think Autumn’s been acting strange lately?”

I asked Lily, hoping I was just overthinking, but also wanting someone to agree with me.

I kept my voice low, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. I needed to know I wasn’t the only one who felt something was off.

“No, what’s up with her lately?”

Lily’s brow furrowed in confusion. She adjusted her glasses, waiting for me to explain.

“Nothing.”

I let out a sigh of relief, but also felt a little disappointed. Go figure.

Maybe I was just being paranoid. Or maybe Lily just wasn’t paying attention. Either way, I forced a smile and tried to shake it off.

At lunch, Lily had been working out lately and ate super light. I didn’t have much appetite either, so I just grabbed a small salad.

We sat at the edge of the dining hall, Lily picking at a bowl of lettuce and grilled chicken. I poked at my salad, appetite gone. Neither of us was really eating.

“Hey, isn’t that Autumn?”

I followed Lily’s gaze, and sure enough, it was Autumn.

She was at the hot food line, loading up her tray with barbecue chicken and mashed potatoes, like she hadn’t eaten in days.

“So jealous she can eat like crazy and not get fat!”

Lily sounded a bit envious.

She watched Autumn pile on extra fries, shaking her head. “I wish I had her metabolism.”

If anything, I was even more freaked out.

The way Autumn ate, it was like she was starving. I couldn’t shake the image of her gaunt face and hollow eyes from last night.

“Wasn’t she really heavy before?”

I blurted it out before I could stop myself, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lily gave me a look like I was nuts, put her hand on my forehead and said:

She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead, frowning. “You feeling okay? You don’t have a fever. Why are you acting weird?”

“No fever. Why are you talking crazy?”

She gave a little laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked genuinely confused.

Lily said Autumn had always been thin. But I remembered—she was 200 pounds just a month ago!

The memory was sharp—Autumn squeezing into her old jeans, joking about needing to lay off the late-night pizza. Had I imagined it?

When did she start losing weight?

I tried to replay the last few weeks in my head, but everything was hazy, like static on a TV screen.

Why didn’t I remember it happening?

It was like someone had edited my memories, snipping out all the in-between moments. I felt dizzy, the room spinning for a second. Like my brain had been hacked.

It was like my memory had just jumped from a month ago to today.

Yesterday: Autumn was thin. A month ago: she was heavy. Nothing in between. My brain couldn’t fill in the blanks.

But I still remembered what I ate yesterday, what I did the day before—only my memories of Autumn were fuzzy.

I could recall what I wore, what classes I went to, even the song stuck in my head. But Autumn? Just a blur.

Or maybe, I just naturally thought, “She’s always been thin, she can eat like crazy and not get fat”?

The thought crept in, insidious and convincing. I shook my head, refusing to believe it.

I was so shocked by my own thoughts I couldn’t speak.

I stared at my tray, hands trembling, feeling the world tilt under me. I gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady myself.

“Why are you sweating? It’s freezing.”

Lily’s voice snapped me back. She reached out, concern in her eyes.

I moved Lily’s hand away and said stiffly:

I forced a smile, my voice barely steady. “It’s nothing, really. Just tired.”

“It’s nothing.”

I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. My head felt stuffed with cotton.

My gaze was unconsciously drawn back to Autumn.

She was at her table, eating like she hadn’t seen food in weeks. I watched, transfixed and horrified.

She was tearing through plate after plate of barbecue chicken.

Her fingers slick with sauce, she tore into the meat, barely pausing to chew. Her eyes flickered up, meeting mine for a split second.

The reddish-brown sauce circled her mouth, some of it about to drip down.

It glistened in the harsh cafeteria lights, a sticky ring that looked almost like blood.

She stopped.

Her hand froze, chicken wing halfway to her mouth. She stared at me, unblinking.

Her Adam’s apple bobbed, and the meat slid from her mouth into her stomach. Suddenly, she looked at me, smiled, and sucked her greasy fingers.

She licked her fingers one by one, her tongue darting out with slow, deliberate movements. Her smile was too wide, too knowing.

The sauce turned bright red, dripping down one drop after another. One drop. Then another.

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

My heart was racing. I wanted to run. I couldn’t look at Autumn for another second.

I grabbed my backpack, barely mumbling an excuse to Lily, and bolted out of the dining hall. My legs felt like jelly. I just had to get out.

I didn’t eat at all, left Lily behind, and ran back to the dorm alone.

The cold air outside hit me like a slap, but it didn’t help. I sprinted the whole way, desperate to put distance between me and Autumn.

As soon as I opened the dorm door, a foul smell hit me, forcing me to search for the source.

It was so strong I gagged, the kind of stench that clings to your clothes and crawls up your nose. I pinched my nostrils shut, eyes watering.

The smell of blood mixed with rot—like a butcher shop dumpster in July.

It was worse than anything I’d ever smelled. My stomach lurched.

It was so bad I had to cover my nose just to enter.

I wrapped my sleeve over my face, breathing through the fabric. The urge to run was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself to stay.

Whose old trash was this?

I mentally cursed my roommates for leaving food out. Maybe someone forgot to take out the trash—again.

I searched everywhere. Strangely, all the trash had been taken out.

I checked every bin—nothing but clean, empty liners. The smell only got stronger as I moved toward the bathroom.

Confused, I headed for the bathroom. Even used tampons wouldn’t smell this bad, right?

I tried to laugh it off, but the joke died in my throat. I pushed open the bathroom door with trembling fingers.

Creak—the bathroom door opened.

The hinges moaned, echoing in the empty dorm. My heart pounded in my chest.

My eyes were instantly filled with dark red.

It was everywhere—on the floor, the sink, the walls. For a split second, I thought I’d walked into a crime scene.

Blood?!

The word screamed in my mind. I staggered back, hand flying to my mouth.

On the walls, the floor, the sink—everywhere.

It dripped in thick streaks, pooling around the drain. The metallic tang hit me like a punch.

I was so scared my legs went weak; I didn’t dare go any closer.

My knees buckled, and I grabbed the doorframe for support. My vision blurred, spots dancing in front of my eyes. Not now. Not here.

The strong smell of blood filled my nose. My stomach turned; I wanted to throw up.

The taste of bile rose in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to lose it.

I rushed in, but before I reached the toilet, I vomited in the sink.

The oatmeal and coffee came up in a sour rush. I coughed, tears streaming down my face. Gross.

My mind went blank. I turned on all the faucets and the shower.

The roar of water filled the room. I scrubbed my hands, my face, anything I could reach, desperate to wash away the horror.

Rinsing, rinsing, rinsing again and again.

The water ran pink, then clear, but the smell lingered. I kept scrubbing, skin raw.

A lump of black stuff floated toward me in the water.

It bobbed in the current, getting caught on the drain. My heart stopped.

That was—fur?! No way. It couldn’t be.

Short, wiry, black and brown. My mind raced. There was only one animal in the dorm with fur like that.

A bad feeling rose in my chest. Peanut’s silly little face flashed through my mind.

I saw her wagging tail, her big eyes. A cold dread settled in my gut.

I didn’t care about anything else and rushed out of the bathroom to grab the box.

I tore through my room, flinging aside textbooks and blankets. The box was empty.

Where was Peanut?!

I screamed her name, voice cracking. I checked under the beds, behind the dresser—nothing. Panic clawed at my chest. She had to be here.