Brooke was gone.

She was really gone by the time I went back to my dorm, nearly nighttime by then, after all the tiring events.

She wasn't there, which wasn't the thing that surprised me. No, it wasn't just her. None of her things were there anymore. Her side of the room lay bare of her books and her stationery and her clothes even. The bed was made but it was empty and so was her part of the closet. The only thing that remained of hers was the moon-shaped lamp that her dad had brought over once when he'd visited. It sat right there on the sidetable like it always had. But Brooke wasn't here.

I was, to be fairly honest, left a little in shock for the first few minutes.

Because she was just gone and I was finding it hard to believe. Brooke was gone and there was nothing left of her here. My roommate was gone.

I couldn't however, have just stayed there and waited for her to come back, especially since I had this dreadful gnawing feeling in my gut that she wouldn't be returning anytime soon. It was a gut feeling and even though I wasn't usually one who believed in gut feelings (only because they just came from my paranoia), this one was pretty strong and believable. So I gathered my things once again and headed back outside.

By the time I stopped by the offices, the receptionist, I could see, was a little bewildered to see me again when I'd been there just hours ago to drop off my form along with Nico. When I told her about the situation in my dorm and asked if she knew anything about Brooke's sudden disappearance (because surely, Brooke must've informed someone), she told me that she'd received no such notices.

Brooke had left and hadn't told anyone that she was leaving.

Except for Soren, I thought. Soren had somehow known that Brooke was gone. He'd been desperate and panicked and had asked me to apologize to her.

My dorm room was still empty and quiet when I returned and I told myself to not overthink. Maybe Brooke will return tomorrow. She cared about her classes, couldn't miss one for the fear of bad grades, and wouldn't just leave all this for...for the guilt, would she?

And maybe Nico was right. I should just let her be. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault, right?

I didn't get my answer that day because Brooke didn't return. Not that day or the next day or even the day after that. I slept alone at night in a room devoid of Brooke's voice and her presence and her usual chatter, and as each hour passed by more fear gnawed me from the inside.

Nico was as clueless as me when I told him of Brooke's sudden disappearance, though he wasn't as affected as me. Nico and Brooke had been friends but they'd never been as close as I had been with Brooke. She'd been my roommate. We'd spent late weekend nights watching movies and sharing snacks in the middle of the night when I hadn't wanted to go back home. She'd been there for me whenever I was seconds away from pulling my hair out after phone calls with my mom.

I think she understood me. A little, if not all. She'd helped me move past the new-place jitters when I'd first moved towns away from home. She'd been there for me. She hadn't ever told me to grow up and get my life together whenever I'd drop dead on my bed after enveloping myself in a comforting haze of alcohol. She would always just be there, cover me up with a blanket, and admonish me softly in the morning before giving me a glass of water.

She had been there for me.

And now she wasn't.

•••••

A meeting's notice was emailed to me and the other few volunteers who'd signed up for the Christmas piece the theater and the music kids were putting up this year. It was a short email sent to me by Professor McAdams, short and polite, yet I still read it at least a hundred times. It was stressful enough to leave me restless all night, paired with the absence of my roommate, and I lay wide awake staring up at the ceiling and trying not to continuously toss and turn.

At one point I messaged Nico if he'd received the email as well. He didn't reply quickly enough and then I found myself lost in my head again. Thinking of Brooke and how she hadn't come back yet. Thinking of asking Soren what was going on. Thinking of the Christmas music show and how I'd be volunteering for it, just a few feet away from all those kids with burgundy bows gracefully pressing against the sharp (painfully sweet) strings of their violins.

And oh fuck, I didn't think I could do this. It was as if I was stuck, paralyzed, and there was this dark entity over me, claws gripping my shoulders, pressing pressing pressing, and trying to suffocate me.

Brooke wasn't coming back.

I'd given up on sleep by then and threw the covers from over me, welcoming the cold chill around me, and left my dorm. My teeth were chattering by the time I was standing outside in just my pajamas. I picked up my pace and ran all the way around the dormitory building. Once, twice--five laps until I couldn't breathe and until my heart was pounding for a totally different reason.

The sky was still dark and my legs were aching in protest. But the ache was welcoming--easier to handle than the one in my heart.

I was exhausted and tired and wished to sleep but I could also see the first few slivers of morning sunlight peeking just beneath the clouds and I knew if I fell asleep now, I'd miss classes. I couldn't miss any classes, not when finals were nearing. Mom had been right. I needed the scholarship because I couldn't rely on my parents' money. I didn't even know if Mom would be willing--

I waved off that thought and swallowed, still panting as I looked around the empty grounds. I glanced at the entrance and hoped--wished--that I'd see Brooke walking in any minute now, smiling and waving in my direction.

I walked up to my dorm once again and took a shower, the coldest of showers, and came back out to pull on a long-sleeved tee and a yellow and blue flannel shirt over it. I had already started anxiously fidgeting around, somehow managing to knock over my huge pile of books that I knew I needed to organize soon, and practically ran back out of the room with my phone and a baseball cap.

I don't know why the baseball cap but it was just something I'd reached for at that very moment and I really needed something in my hands.

The hallways weren't much crowded, save for some early risers, and it didn't take me long to reach The Bakery and find an empty spot inside the tiny cafe.

I was a little disappointed, however, to see that Macy, the one barista I actually knew in here, wasn't behind the counter. The other barista told me Macy's shift wasn't until the evening when I asked her. I nodded and tried to quench my disappointment, twisting the poor baseball cap in the process, and ordered myself a cup of coffee as I sat down on one of the few barstools lining the vast counter. There were a few others besides me in the cafe, early risers bundled in layers of clothing as they sat huddled around a cup of coffee or hot cocoa.

I tried not to curl into myself when another spike of anxiety went through me. Brooke and I always came here together in the mornings. The Bakery had been our place as Macy would serve us our daily coffees and new flavored muffins every day. But it was only that neither Brooke nor Macy was here today.

I curled my fingers around the baseball cap and watched it being strangled to death. I shuddered.

Someone behind me on one of the tables was discussing whether she should go for silver and red as her Christmas decor theme or gold and red. I took out my phone and called Brooke.

She didn't pick up the first time. I pulled my phone away from my ear and dialed her number again. This time, she did pick up.

"Hello?" I spoke softly when someone picked up the phone on the other end.

I could hear the sound of traffic in the background yet there was no reply.

"Brooke? Hey, can you hear me?" I furrowed my brows, barely acknowledging the cup of coffee the barista placed in front of me. "Brooke--"

There was a harsh intake of breath from her end, a heavy inhale before the line went dead. A cold shiver ran down my spine and I swallowed, pulling the phone away from my ear. What was that? Had that been Brooke?

I called her again because I couldn't not have done that. I was about to press her number when my phone rang with an incoming call. I didn't look once at the screen, didn't think twice, before answering, "Brooke. What's going on? Look, I've been really worried and thinking myself sick ever since you just left so please, just...tell me what's wrong? Talk to me? Soren told me. Well, that doesn't really matter right now. Are you all right? Where have you disappeared off to?" Without telling me?

There was utter silence on the other end, almost the same silence as it had been the first time when she'd picked up my call. The only difference was that I didn't hear any distinct sound of traffic this time.

"Querida." A voice came from the other end.

I stilled, eyes widening as I recognized the voice. It wasn't Brooke's voice.

"What." I pulled the phone away from my ear and tapped once on the screen, and saw Ryder instead of Brooke. Fuckfuckfuck. I pulled back the phone over my ear and blurted out, "Shit, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize!"

Another beat of silence. "Yes. I figured." He sounded confused.

"I'm sorry," I said again, wincing and trying to ignore the way my cheeks were heating up in embarrassment. "I just thought you were someone else. I didn't see. I didn't see before answering."

"All right." I heard him, his deep voice a little too quiet, and then it was almost like I could feel him hesitate. "Is he bothering you again?"

"Who...is?"

"Soren."

I blinked in surprise. "No. He...isn't."

"You hesitated." Now he sounded curious. It was strange because his voice remained steady all the while yet there was this something. Something that made it feel like he was right here in front of me.

"He isn't." I repeated without hesitating this time, then lowered my voice, "Why did you call, Ryder?"

"To remind you of our agreement. There's a gathering this Sunday and you're going there with me."

I almost nearly missed the barista tapping on my cup of coffee. I looked up at her as she asked, "Want me to get you a blueberry muffin as well? Macy usually offers you that with the coffee, doesn't she?"

"Oh. Okay. Thank you." I told her, then focused back on the phone call, speaking to Ryder now, "Our agreement?"

He waited just a second before grunting affirmatively.

"Okay." I furrowed my brows nervously. The baseball cap in my free hand had surely seen better days with how bad it looked right about now. "What kind of gathering is it?"

"A party." He replied, voice flat. "A well-known son of a billionaire is hosting it. There's going to be security all around, amongst the other rich pompous bastards who're invited."

I felt my throat running dry as he continued.

"There's one particular person that I have to...discuss some things with, and I have reasons to believe I'll find him there."

"That sounds vague." I frowned. "I don't have to be there. Why do you need me there with you?"

His voice hardened. "Because I didn't waste my whole fucking Saturday night with your family just for the fun of it. You owe me. We agreed to that."

My heart picked up its pace and I blinked once. Twice. "I know." I know you weren't there Saturday night at my parent's house for me.

"Querida." He sounded exasperated, gritting out the word heavily.

"I know," I repeated, then let go of the baseball cap and pulled it over my head once I'd managed to smooth it out. "I was just asking why you need me there as your date. You can pick up literally anyone else as your date?" Even though that thought alone made me strangely anxious.

"I'm not going to." He still sounded mad. I wished he wasn't mad at me. Lately, it felt like everyone was mad at me for one thing or another.

"Okay," I murmured quietly.

"I'm not exactly invited. And I need a date if I'm going there anyway." He added gruffly.

"So we're crashing a party?" I perked up a little.

"Yes."

"A rich party?"

"Fuck. Yes. Didn't you hear me the first time?"

"That sounds..." Dangerous, I wanted to say. "What if..." We get caught?

Ryder made a frustrated noise on the other end. "I can't answer your questions if you don't finish your sentences."

I can't be there in that underground cellar again. An icy chill ran down my spine. I didn't understand where that thought had come from but it frightened me.

"I'll be there," I told him, grabbing my cup of coffee which had gone cold by now. There was a blueberry muffin beside it that I hadn't even noticed the barista putting there.

"No, I will pick you up." He said. "Just be ready by eight."

I didn't protest.

And I didn't get much sleep that night either. Because every time I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep, I saw the iron, eroded bars of that cellar, the darkness choking me, and Brooke sobbing and breaking down in my arms.