Chapter 5: Aubrey’s Secret

When I got downstairs, I saw Aubrey waiting for me.

Before I could speak, she hurried over: “Where’s Derek? Is he avoiding me?”

“What do you mean? Hasn’t he been with you these days?” I was puzzled.

“Ethan, stop pretending. Did he tell you to say that? Does he want to break up with me?” Aubrey’s voice started to choke up.

At first, I thought she was just being dramatic, but now she seemed serious.

I quickly comforted her: “Don’t cry, I really don’t know where he is. He hasn’t come to class these days. We all thought he went out with you. If you don’t believe me, ask the RA and Marcus. He hasn’t come back to the room at all.”

7

Seeing I was serious, Aubrey stopped crying. She dropped her gaze, like she’d been scolded by a parent: “After leaving the room that day, he argued with me. Later I couldn’t reach him by phone. I haven’t seen him since.”

I comforted her: “Okay, I’ll help you look for him. Tell him to contact you.”

Aubrey nodded: “Okay, I’ll wait for your news.”

As she turned to leave, I suddenly remembered: “By the way, those shoes—the red heels you wore from the room?”

“Did I wear them?” Aubrey, who had just been sad, suddenly turned her head, her eyes narrowed slightly. Only then did I notice her face was frighteningly white, as if coated with a layer of white powder, stiff and unnatural.

My hands and feet turned cold.

“Aren’t they ugly?” She stuck out her foot, and sure enough, she was wearing those red heels, the patent leather still glaringly bright.

“Didn’t you say the shoes were out of style? Toss them,” I advised.

Aubrey didn’t answer, but looked up and asked me a question. Her voice dropped to a whisper, her lips barely moving: “Do you know how Caleb died?”

Her breath smelled faintly of something sweet and rotten, like old perfume.

“Wasn’t it sudden death?” I frowned.

Aubrey shook her head: “No, he was...”

“Was what?” I couldn’t hear clearly, just about to lean in and listen—

“Ethan,” the RA suddenly appeared behind me, slapped me on the back.

I turned around. Before I could speak, I felt something was wrong.

Behind me, there were people everywhere, all looking at me strangely. Even people upstairs opened their windows, stuck their heads out, pointing at me.

A couple of the football guys in sweats leaned out, whispering to each other, their faces pale.

“Ethan, who are you talking to?” The RA looked at me gravely, his expression strange.

“Aubrey,” I said.

The RA replied coldly: “There’s no Aubrey here.”

I thought she was right behind me, but when I turned around, there was no one there.

I stood there, dumbfounded.

My heart pounded against my chest as the campus lights flickered overhead, and the night air felt suddenly colder than before. I looked down at my hand—and saw a faint smudge of red on my palm, as if from patent leather, leaving me with a dread that wouldn’t wash off.