1 Serena loved to play the disappearing game. It was her favorite way to test her place in our hearts. Lately, the local news had been dominated by a string of serial murders, and tonight, she had suddenly gone off the grid again. Even though we all knew it was the boy who cried wolf, panic still set in. Liam, my childhood friend and a cybersecurity engineer, immediately bypassed a dozen privacy protocols to track her phone’s GPS. Connor, my cousin and an amateur street racer, drifted his modified Subaru through red lights to get us to the abandoned industrial park on the outskirts of the city. And Declan—my boyfriend, the county’s senior medical examiner—was the one who scooped her trembling body into his arms. He pulled a first-aid kit from his trunk to bandage a scratch on her wrist that was barely half an inch long. The raw, unfiltered ache of protectiveness in his eyes spilled over. On the way back, the four-seater sedan was full. Once again, I was the one left behind. “Call an Uber,” Declan had said through the rolled-down window. “I’ll reimburse you.” But this was the industrial wasteland past the city limits. It was desolate. Not a single driver was accepting rides out here. The darkness around me was absolute, thick and suffocating. And the sound of footsteps behind me was getting closer. Shivering so hard my teeth clicked, I typed frantically into our five-person group chat: [Can someone come back and get me? I think someone is following me…] It took them almost an hour to reply. Liam: [Just because we’re willing to coddle Serena doesn’t mean we’re going to coddle you. Stop using this kind of thing to test us.] Connor: [If you’re really in trouble, call 911.] Declan: [We brought Serena to the ER just to be safe. Stop adding to the chaos, Nora. Grow up and find your own way home.] The truth was, they weren’t at the ER. They were in a VIP room at a high-end downtown karaoke lounge, celebrating Serena’s birthday. Afraid I would keep blowing up their phones and ruining the vibe, they all powered down their devices. They didn’t know that by the time those texts went through, I had already been brutally murdered. My lungs had stopped working. My body was sinking into the freezing, murky currents of the city’s drainage river. … In the neon-lit karaoke room, Serena sat in the center of the plush leather sofa. She closed her eyes and blew out the candles on her cake. “I wish you guys would spoil me like this forever.” “Obviously. Who else are we going to spoil?” Liam smiled softly, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Look, Nora sent something in the chat. Do we even engage?” Serena bit her lip, trying to hide a smug smile. “Nora is definitely jealous. She’s copying me, playing the disappearing game. Should we… maybe go look for her?” Declan was looking down, carefully picking the stems off the premium strawberries from the fruit platter to hand to Serena. He didn’t even look up. “No. Let her freeze for a night. Otherwise, she’s going to forget her place,” Declan said, his voice flat. “She’s been like this since we were kids. Always has to compete with you for everything.” “Are you guys really just going to leave her out there? You’re so ruthless,” Serena teased, leaning back. “You wouldn’t do that to me, right?” “Of course not. You and her aren’t the same.” “Okay, hypothetically,” Serena pushed, her eyes sparkling with manufactured innocence. “If Nora and I were both in real danger, who would you save?” Declan frowned, knocking his knuckles against the glass table. “Don’t jinx it. Knock on wood.” But Liam didn’t hesitate. “If something happened, we’d save you, obviously.” “Yeah, Nora’s practically unkillable anyway,” Connor chimed in, tossing back a beer. “Remember that chemistry lab fire in high school? We were trapped in the back, and she was the one who dragged us out one by one.” “She literally got second-degree burns across her entire back, lost three fingernails, and she was totally fine,” Liam laughed, shaking his head. “A week later she was back in class, carrying our lunch trays for us.” I was drifting near the ceiling of the private room, entirely weightless. Listening to them recount my trauma like it was a punchline, a bitter, ghostly smile touched my lips. They thought I was indestructible. A cockroach that couldn’t be crushed. But this time, I had actually been crushed. There were no Ubers, no buses, no subway stations near that rusted-out factory. I hadn’t made it a quarter of a mile before a hand clamped over my mouth, dragging me into the tall, dead grass. The serial killer they had been warning people about on the news had tortured me for two agonizing hours. He thought I was dead. When he stepped away to light a cigarette, I used the last ounce of my fading consciousness to grab my shattered phone from the dirt. The screen was spider-webbed and glitching; I couldn’t dial 911. The screen was frozen on our group chat. Operating purely on muscle memory, I pressed where the voice memo button should be. I barely forced out a single word. “Help…” The killer turned back. He saw the glow of the screen and kicked me squarely in the temple. What followed was a blinding barrage of fists and steel-toed boots. Then, the rope went around my neck, pulling tighter, and tighter, cutting off the world. Even in my most excruciating final moments, I clung to a pathetic sliver of hope. I thought they would check their phones. I thought they would hear the terror in my voice, track my location like they did for Serena, and come bursting through the dark to save me. But I was too annoying. So they had turned their phones off. Back in the lounge, Declan glanced at his Rolex. “It’s past midnight. You can turn your phones back on. Let’s see what kind of drama she’s trying to stir up now.” As the screens lit up, my final voice memo loaded. “Help…” It was the last sound I ever left in this world. The three men leaned in to listen. Then, simultaneously, they burst out laughing. Serena blinked her wide eyes. “Oh my god, do you hear how her voice is shaking? She’s such a good actress! What a drama queen.” Declan picked up his phone and typed a voice reply, his tone dripping with exhaustion. “Give it a rest, Nora. Go home. We were all ‘worried’ about you. We even saved you some cake.” He grabbed a to-go box and unceremoniously shoved the mangled, half-eaten remains of the birthday cake inside. Serena giggled. “I bet Nora is already home, just sitting in the dark sulking. Let’s all go over there. When she opens the door, we’ll just shove the cake in her face. That’ll teach her to throw these little tantrums.” They excitedly plotted how to teach me a lesson. But when they arrived at my apartment, they didn’t find me. They found my mother. Mom was huddled on the floor in the hallway by my front door, looking frantically up and down the corridor. When she saw Declan step off the elevator, she rushed toward him. “Declan! Do you know where Nora is?” she pleaded, her hands trembling. “I brought her some dinner, but her phone has been off since eight o’clock. I’ve been knocking for hours… You don’t think she’s in danger, do you?” Declan’s brow furrowed in deep annoyance. He sighed, shaking his head. “No, Mrs. Hayes. We had a little argument earlier. She’s just throwing a tantrum and screening calls.” Connor, my own cousin, chimed in from behind him. “Aunt Sarah, you really need to talk to Nora. Tell her to act her age. Her personality is so toxic, it just pushes people away. We’re all getting pretty sick of it.” My mother had no idea what had happened. She simply lowered her head, apologizing profusely on my behalf, her posture small and submissive. Declan took the insulated grocery bags from her hands. “I’ll take the food inside. You should head home. Nora is fine.” Mom hesitated, shifting her weight awkwardly. She pointed a shaky finger toward my door and asked, quietly, “Could I… just use the restroom before I go?” Declan didn’t step aside. His voice was polite but frigid. “I have a phobia of germs, Mrs. Hayes. You know that. There’s a gas station about three blocks down the street. I won’t walk you down.” He paused, hand on the doorknob. “And next time, please call before you come over.” I stood in the corner of the hallway, watching my mother’s utter humiliation. A phantom ache ripped through my hollow, non-existent chest. The last bus had stopped running an hour ago. My mother ended up crouching alone at the bus stop on the corner, shivering in her thin coat like a dead leaf clinging to a winter branch. I wanted so desperately to hug her. But as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, they passed right through her, leaving nothing but a cold gust of wind. I would never be able to hold my mother again. Upstairs, Declan and the others realized I hadn’t come home, but they didn’t care. They unpacked the tupperware my mom had brought—her famous baked ziti and slow-roasted pot roast—and devoured it with cold beers, leaving the living room an absolute mess. Serena pouted, looking at the clutter. “Do you think Nora will be mad when she gets back and sees this?” “Who cares? She’s the one who decided to stay out all night,” Declan said, loosening his collar. “Leave it. She can clean it up tomorrow.” “Since Nora isn’t coming back tonight… can I sleep in here with you?” Serena asked, tugging gently on Declan’s sleeve. “I was in that creepy factory for almost an hour today. I’m still so scared.” Declan reached out and gently tapped the tip of her nose. “That was my fault. Next time, we’ll find you faster. You can stay. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” “You’re the best!” Moving with the practiced ease of someone who owned the place, Serena went into my bedroom, put on my favorite silk pajamas, and slipped under my duvet. She rested her head on Declan’s arm, listening to him hum a soft, rhythmic lullaby to soothe her nerves. The irony was suffocating. I suffered from severe, chronic insomnia. There were nights I’d be staring at the ceiling at 3:00 AM, my mind tearing itself apart. Whenever the exhaustion made me cry, Declan would just call me dramatic. “If you can’t sleep, go to the guest room,” he’d snap, rolling over. “I’m a light sleeper. You tossing and turning is really affecting my performance at work.” His tenderness, it turned out, was exclusively reserved for Serena. In that moment, whatever was left of my soul finally went dead. By the next afternoon, I still hadn’t returned. Liam opened the custom tracking app he’d built for our phones. He frowned. “Her GPS is still pinging near that industrial park.” He let out a dry, mocking laugh. “She is so stubborn. Is she seriously waiting out there for us to come groveling?” Serena, spreading artisanal jam onto a piece of toast, tilted her head. “You guys don’t think something actually happened to her, do you?” Declan paused, coffee mug halfway to his lips. A flicker of something crossed his face. “I should probably drive out there and check.” “No!” Serena immediately vetoed the idea. “If you do that, she wins! You finally have a weekend off, Declan, and you promised we were all going to Six Flags today. No backing out!” “Alright, alright. Whatever the princess wants,” Liam chuckled. Just like that, they tossed me out of their minds again. They drove to the massive theme park a county over. Declan, who was terrified of heights, swallowed his fear to ride the drop tower and the rollercoasters just to see Serena smile. At the peak of the Ferris wheel, they made a pact to always be the most important people in each other’s lives. It wasn’t until late afternoon that Declan received a call from the local precinct. “Is this Declan Wright? You’re listed as Nora Hayes’ emergency contact.” “Yes. Is there a problem?” “Her mother filed a missing persons report. We’re doing a preliminary welfare check. We need you to come down to the station.” Annoyed, Declan and the others drove straight to the precinct. During the questioning, Declan’s impatience was palpable. “Officer, I’ve told you three times. She does this. Whenever she doesn’t get her way, she goes off the grid. She cuts contact with everyone just to force us to panic and beg her to come back.” Liam scoffed from the back of the room. “She is the most self-preservationist person I know. There is zero chance she’s in danger. She just wants the world to revolve around her. It’s childish and selfish.” Serena walked over to where my mother was sitting, looking at her with pity. “Mrs. Hayes, you really need to talk some sense into Nora. I know she’s had abandonment issues since her dad died, but pulling these stunts is just going to make everyone hate her. And you, calling the cops over every little thing… you’re just wasting police resources.” The desk sergeant took down the notes, then glanced up at the clock. “Look, she’s an adult, and she hasn’t been missing for twenty-four hours. Given that her boyfriend and family members insist she has a history of doing this voluntarily, we don’t have grounds to launch a formal investigation or ping her cell carrier.” My mother sat on the hard plastic bench, her head bowed, her hands shaking violently in her lap. She didn’t scream. She didn’t argue. She just looked up at Declan. “The abandoned factory you mentioned,” she whispered. “What is the exact address?” “If you won’t look for her, I will.” She stood up, her back hunched, and limped out of the precinct. Looking at her from behind, I realized for the first time how gray her hair had gotten. I wanted to run after her. I wanted to stand in front of the door and scream at her not to go. I didn’t want my mother to see what was left of me. But I couldn’t stop her. I was so powerless. Declan glanced over his shoulder at the door closing behind my mother. He stared for a second, then shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Like mother, like daughter. Both completely unhinged.” Liam nodded. “They’re probably in on it together. Just another layer to the performance art to guilt-trip you.” “Well, she took the joke too far this time,” Connor scowled. “She owes us all a massive apology. Until she gives one, no one speaks to her.” Right there in the lobby, Liam removed me from the group chat. Miles away, the temperature had dropped below freezing. Unwilling to spend money on a taxi, my mother rented one of those electric city scooters and rode it in the biting wind for twelve miles. By the time she reached the industrial park, the sun was setting. Armed with nothing but a cheap flashlight, she began walking along the muddy banks of the drainage river. She called my name into the pitch-black void. “Nora! Nora!” She kept walking until she reached the underpass of the highway bridge. It was completely secluded, reeking of decay. She clawed her way through the thick, dead reeds, slipping and falling in the mud over and over. Her palms were scraped raw and bleeding. And then, her flashlight beam hit a dark mass snagged on the rocks. I had washed up against the shoreline. “Nora… baby, is that you?” The sound of her voice breaking shattered whatever was left of my spirit. My mother scrambled forward on her hands and knees, throwing herself into the freezing mud, and pulled me into her arms. But my face was obliterated. My body was bloated and entirely unrecognizable. She was too terrified to confirm it. She just sat there, shaking my rigid shoulders, rocking back and forth. “No, no, no… it’s not her, it’s not her, it’s not her…” My mother managed to dial 911. Given the location and the state of the body, the patrol officers immediately contacted the County Medical Examiner’s Office. The call went straight to Declan. He was sitting on my living room rug, helping Serena sort colorful beads for a DIY jewelry kit. The voice on the other end was urgent. “Dr. Wright, we have a Jane Doe found beneath the Eastside overpass. Extensive facial trauma. Preliminary assessment points to the M.O. of our serial killer. We need you down here.” Declan’s hand jerked. Half the beads scattered across the hardwood floor. A sudden, inexplicable tightness seized his chest. “Got it. I’m on my way.” After hanging up, he opened his contacts, found my name, and hit dial. The number you have reached is turned off. I could see it in his eyes. For the first time, a hairline fracture of genuine panic cracked through his irritation. He rushed to the morgue. And there, under the blinding fluorescent lights, he finally saw me. He gloved up, parting the matted, river-soaked hair, staring hard at a face that had no discernible features left. His hands recoiled as if he’d touched a live wire, but he forced himself to adopt a clinical detachment. “Estimated time of death is roughly 10:30 PM last night,” his assistant noted from the clipboard. 10:30 PM. The exact time Nora had sent that voice memo. His eyes tracked down the bruised, mutilated body. When he reached the left hand, his heart skipped a violent beat. There was a deep, distinct indentation on the ring finger. When they first started dating, Declan had bought me a ring. It was a twenty-dollar piece of junk from a mall kiosk. But I had loved it so much I wore it for six years. I only took it off recently because the cheap metal had finally rusted, leaving my finger swollen, infected, and aching. He had promised to buy me a real one to replace it. He made the promise, and then he forgot it the second it left his mouth. Leaving me with nothing but a permanent groove etched into my skin. Besides the ring mark, there was the burn scar stretching across the back. The small birthmark on the collarbone. Coincidences, he told himself, his breath growing shallow. Just coincidences. Declan’s legs were shaking. He immediately left the room, drove back to our apartment to grab a hairbrush from my bathroom, and submitted my DNA sample to the lab for a rapid profile match. He handed the rest of the physical autopsy off to a junior pathologist. His phone buzzed in his pocket. The group chat. [So? Obviously not Nora, right?] [She’s probably hiding in a motel watching us freak out.] [If she doesn’t show her face in two hours, I’m done. I’m cutting her out of my life.] Declan didn’t reply. Six hours later, his lab tech walked into his office holding a printed report. The tech looked physically sick. “Dr. Wright. The lab ran a rapid profile and cross-referenced it manually to be sure. The DNA from the hairbrush is a definitive match to the victim.” “Based on the data… Jane Doe is Nora Hayes.” The tech swallowed hard, lowering his voice. “And Doctor… the physical autopsy is complete. The victim was approximately eight weeks pregnant.” “I’m so sorry.”
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