Zara
The first thing I noticed when I returned to my dorm was the silence. Not the comforting kind, like early dawn before the sun rises, but the suffocating kind, dense, stale, vibrating with something wrong.
I closed the door softly behind me, dropping my bag onto my bed. My eyes scanned the room automatically, cataloguing every detail.
The ivory sheets tucked in place.
The navy throw blanket folded at the foot.
My slippers neatly aligned beneath the nightstand.
My textbooks stacked from tallest to shortest on my polished mahogany desk.
Everything looked… untouched.
But something was missing. I felt it like an itch just beneath my ribs.
Slowly, I approached my bedside drawer. My fingers curled around the handle, skin prickling with foreboding. I pulled it ope
