Lydia sat up in her bed. She made barely any noise, but her roommate—already awake and doing homework—noticed her anyway.
"Good morning to you too, Lydia. Our alarm went off like an hour ago."
Lydia didn't respond. She got out of bed in a robotic manner and walked over to the work desk where her roommate was sitting.
"I tried waking you up," her roommate said, spinning around in her chair. "But you just wouldn't..." The words died in her throat the moment she saw Lydia's face.
It wasn't her. Physically, yes—it looked like Lydia. But something deep down screamed this wasn't Lydia. It was someone else. There was no doubt.
"Lydia?"
Lydia ignored her and reached for the pair of scissors on the desk.
"Are you okay?"
**Slash.**
"WOAH!" Her roommate jumped back in fear and shock as Lydia, without warning, slit her own throat. Her body collapsed onto the revolving chair.
"...What?"
—
At Alex Quinn's police station,
"We got another call! Another suicide case. Jim, I need you and Walker on this one."
"On it."
"Busy day again. More suicides," a female colleague remarked, almost casually.
"You don't say... Only a matter of time before we get called out too," Alex replied, watching his colleagues leave in a hurry. "How many has it been?"
"I mean... everyone except us in this station is gone, so that's six cases—no, seven."
"Total citywide? More or less than yesterday's 102?"
"I don't have the source for that, Alex," she replied, brewing a cup of coffee.
"Look at the situation—we don't have time for that cup."
"No, trust me. I won't get called," she said wryly, giving him a wink.
"Felicia! I need you here."
"Damn."
"Don't wanna be that guy, but I told you so," Alex said, grinning smugly as he stood up.
"Case at Magnus University. I want you and your partner on it—double time."
"That place again? These students must be under some serious stress, huh?" Alex joked—but it wouldn't be funny for long.
"We'll find out." Felicia set her coffee down and marched out with him.
—
He killed her. He used a pair of scissors—yellow scissors, they originally were. There was no one else in that room who could have forced him. It was his decision. Yet, the same shotgun was also strapped on him. He's still him... right?
"ARGHH!" Samantha woke up screaming. "It was him... it was him... it was him..."
"Samantha?!" Heather rushed in, concerned. "You okay?"
Samantha sat in bed, knees to her chest, fingers tangled in her hair, blanket clumped around her. Her mother's voice brought her back to reality. Relief washed over her upon seeing her mother's face. She became aware again—of the softness of her bed, the warmth of her blanket. She finally registered those small sensations seconds after waking.
"I... I'm fine..." Samantha murmured. "I'm fine," she repeated, in case the first time wasn't loud enough.
Heather didn't pry. It didn't feel right to. If Samantha said she was fine, then she was fine. And if she wasn't—she clearly didn't want to talk about it.
"Breakfast is ready... come down whenever you want," Heather said gently before leaving her alone.
"It's him..." Samantha's thoughts resumed, her mind racing to process the complexity of the situation. "...That jacket..."
—
"Alright, step aside!" Alex commanded the nosy crowd. A path cleared to the dorm room, where Lydia lay bleeding on the revolving chair, scissors still in her hand.
"Not jumping this time."
"It's the second floor. She wouldn't die from that anyway," Alex muttered, searching the body. "Nothing on her."
"Wallet's on the desk, right in front of you."
Alex followed Felicia's direction and found the wallet. He pulled out the ID.
"Alright, our name today is... Lydia Lesley Ry—"
"Lydia Lesley Rye?"
He paused, stunned. That name—Liam Dye gave it yesterday. What had he said again? Didn't he say Lydia Ryder would commit suicide today?
"Ryder. I have to go somewhere," Alex said abruptly, tossing the wallet to Felicia and storming out.
"Where are you going?"
"To arrest someone."
In the crowd outside, Caitlyn watched through the door at Lydia's lifeless body.
"It's a Monday. Go to your classes," Felicia muttered, shutting the door. But one look had been enough to paralyze Caitlyn.
—
"I know that jacket..." Samantha murmured to herself, scrolling the internet. "There it is."
She found it. The varsity jacket. And with it, the university Liam attended. She quickly jotted down the address on her phone.
—
Liam woke up feeling drained. Not just tired—he didn't even want to sit up. He wasn't sure what he was feeling.
Was it regret? And if so, regret that he did something terrible—or regret that she saw him doing it?
Was it frustration? That he met her at the wrong time—or that someone witnessed what he did?
Was it relief? Relief that he finally saw her again after all these years—or because...
He turned to his right—an empty bed. An empty chair. Tyler should have been up by now. He was always the early bird, probably working out right here in the dorm room, getting all sweaty and smelly. Annoying, but... comforting.
Right. That's why Liam did it. That's why he did something so unthinkable. It wasn't for nothing.
Remembering this, he finally gathered the energy to get up—though his head throbbed with a splitting ache.
Even if he thought his actions were justified, she was there. At such an unthinkable time. In such an unthinkable place. If she was in that place... she was in grave danger.
He wanted to find her. But how? It was a big city. A massive population.
Still... the more he rationalized it, the more justified his actions felt. Guilt lingered—but regret? Not quite.
He took a long shower, trying to process his thoughts. He brewed coffee with practiced ease—muscle memory from his old part-time job. He sat down at his desk instead of heading to class.
But before he could take a single sip—
**Knockknockknock.**
Damn. Tyler would usually get the door.
He set his cup down and went to answer it.
"Liam Dye. You're under arrest as the prime suspect in the case of Lydia Ryder's..." It was Alex Quinn at the door, as Liam expected. Alex hesitated on the wording before settling with, "...murder. Her murder."
In Alex's glare, Liam didn't see anger or resentment.
He saw fear. Immense fear.