"Not everything that feels wrong is danger… sometimes, it's memory refusing to stay buried."
Morning came too quickly.
For a few seconds after I opened my eyes, I didn't know where I was. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar, the room too quiet. Then it settled.
New York.
Columbia.
Reality.
I sat up slowly, running a hand through my hair. My phone buzzed beside me.
Ava: Alive?
Ava: If you're dead, text back so I know.
Harper: Good morning, Phoebe. How was your first night?
I smiled faintly.
Me: I'm alive. Unfortunately for you, Ava.
Me: First night was fine.
I paused, then added nothing else.
Because "fine" was easier than the truth.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Campus felt less overwhelming today. Still loud. Still busy. But not as foreign.
"Hey."
I turned to see Daniel jogging toward me again, slightly out of breath, coffee in hand.
"You always walk this fast?" he asked.
"Or you're just slow."
He grinned. "Fair point."
We fell into step easily.
"So," he said, "survived your first night in the big city?"
"Barely."
"Yeah, it gets easier. Or you just get used to being overwhelmed."
"That's comforting."
"I try."
I glanced at him. "You've been here long?"
"Two years. Transferred from Texas," he said. "Big culture shock. Thought I was prepared. I wasn't."
"What made you switch?"
He shrugged. "Better program. And… I needed a change."
Something about the way he said it told me there was more, but he didn't go into it.
"Plus," he added lightly, "New York makes you feel like you matter. Even when you don't."
I nodded slightly. I understood that more than I wanted to admit.
As we got closer to the building, a group of guys called out to him.
"Yo, Danny!"
He groaned. "Ignore them."
Too late.
Three guys approached us, all varying levels of unserious.
"This her?" one of them asked, looking me over with a grin.
Daniel shot him a look. "Relax, Chris."
"I'm just asking questions."
"Don't."
Another one stepped forward, more composed. "Ignore them. They don't have home training. I'm Marcus."
"Phoebe," I said.
"Nice to meet you."
The third guy just nodded. "Ethan."
"See?" Daniel said. "These are the people I'm forced to associate with."
"By choice," Chris corrected.
"Debatable."
I couldn't help it—I smiled.
This… felt normal.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Class was easier to settle into today. I wasn't as tense, and Daniel's quiet commentary made it less suffocating.
But it happened again.
"…Zara—"
I froze.
My pen stopped moving.
I turned, slower this time.
Nothing.
No one looking at me. No one reacting. Just the lecturer speaking like nothing happened.
I frowned.
It didn't make sense.
"Phoebe?" Daniel nudged slightly.
"Yeah," I said quickly. "I'm fine."
But I wasn't. I prayed he wouldn't question me further.
Thankfully, he nodded like it was normal. The rest of the class went by fast. Normal... Or not
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Investigative Reporting felt heavier the moment I stepped in.
Like the air itself carried something.
I took my seat, my fingers resting lightly on my notebook as the lecturer walked in.
"No introductions," he said. "If you're here, you already know what this course demands."
His voice was calm. Controlled.
"You're not here to write pretty stories. You're here to dig. To question. To uncover what people would rather keep buried."
A few students shifted in their seats.
He continued, pacing slowly.
"Most crimes—especially violent ones—follow patterns. Not always obvious, but they're there. Habits. Signatures. Psychological imprints."
My chest tightened.
"Take, for example…" he paused briefly, flipping through a file, "…a case from five years ago. Young female. College student. Found under highly disturbing circumstances."
My breath caught.
No.
He continued.
"Body mutilated. Precision cuts. Organs displaced. No clear suspect. No arrest."
My fingers curled slightly against the desk.
"Cases like that don't just disappear," he said. "They sit. Waiting. Because whoever did it?" He looked up. "They don't usually stop."
A chill ran down my spine.
I couldn't move.
"Your assignment this semester is simple," he went on. "Pick a case. Unresolved. Study it. Understand it. Find what others missed."
My heart was pounding now.
I didn't need to think.
I had already chosen.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
After class, I stepped into the hallway, but the feeling followed me.
Not fear.
Just… something unsettled.
"Okay, now you definitely look like something's wrong," Daniel said, catching up to me.
"I'm fine," I replied.
"You keep saying that like it'll become true."
I exhaled softly. "It's just… that class."
"Yeah, it does that," he nodded. "First time I took something like that, I didn't sleep properly for a week."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You start seeing patterns everywhere. Makes you paranoid."
I gave a small nod.
Paranoid.
That made sense.
"Hey," he added, lighter now, "we usually hang out after classes sometimes. Me, Marcus, Chris, Ethan. You should join us."
"I'll think about it."
"That means no."
"That means I'll think about it."
He smiled. "Fair enough."
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Later that night, I sat on my bed, my phone propped up in front of me.
Mum's face appeared on the screen.
"Phoebe," she said softly, her eyes scanning my face. "How are you?"
"I'm okay," I replied.
She didn't look convinced.
"How is the school?"
"It's… good. Busy. A bit overwhelming, but good."
"And your classes?"
"They're fine."
She tilted her head slightly. "You don't sound fine."
I swallowed.
"I am, Mum."
A pause.
Then, gently, "Have you thought about seeing someone? A psychologist?"
I looked away from the screen.
"There are good ones on campus," she continued. "It might help. Especially being there… where everything happened."
My throat tightened.
"I don't need that," I said quickly.
"Phoebe—"
"I said I'm fine."
Silence stretched between us.
And then it cracked.
"I just…" my voice faltered. "I just need time, okay?"
My vision blurred.
I blinked quickly, trying to hold it together.
"I'm trying, Mum," I whispered. "I really am."
Her expression softened immediately. "I know, baby. I know."
That did it.
I looked away, pressing my lips together as the tears threatened to fall.
"I'll think about it," I said quietly. "The psychologist."
She nodded. "That's all I'm asking."
We spoke a little longer after that, about small things. Safe things.
But the moment the call ended, the silence came back.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
The lecturer's words echoed in my head.
They don't usually stop.
My chest tightened.
Zara's face flashed in my mind. Then darkness.
Sleep didn't come easy that night. And when it finally did…
It wasn't gentle.