1 To save on rent, I took on two roommates. By the third month of our shared apartment, Amber had ballooned, as if someone had inflated her with an air pump. At first, I just chalked it up to stress eating and kindly urged her to see a doctor. Instead, she tore into me, a blistering torrent of insults. Two weeks later, she vanished without a trace. Valerie, however, dismissed it with a shrug: "Oh, she just moved out!" But then, Valerie started insisting on cooking for me. It was strange. When I refused, she’d follow me to work, shoving a thermos of food into my hands, her eyes holding an unsettling, almost feverish intensity. Later, chatting with a colleague, she remarked, "Olivia, you've put on a lot of weight lately. Are you, like, totally in love?" "Yeah," another chimed in, "you've been bringing lunch from home constantly. I bet your boyfriend's cooking for you." Suddenly, a chill snaked down my spine. The pieces clicked. I watched Valerie in the kitchen, a ghost of a smile on my lips as she hummed, absorbed in her cooking. Who, I wondered, would be next to disappear? I slammed the thermos onto the dining table with a sharp CRACK. My voice trembled, a thin wire of anger. "Explain this, Valerie. Why have I gained fifteen pounds in a month from eating your food?" Valerie was stirring a rich broth in a clay pot, not even lifting her head. "You were dieting too strictly before," she murmured, her tone maddeningly calm. "It's perfectly normal for your weight to rebound once you start eating normally." In a furious gesture, I unbuttoned my jeans, revealing my distended stomach. "Normal? This isn't normal at all! My colleagues at the agency told me I'm huge today! I'm a model, Valerie. How am I supposed to work like this?" Finally, Valerie turned to scrutinize me. She reached out, her fingers pinching my cheek. "You look so much better now. Before, you were like a skeleton." I rolled my eyes, swatting her hand away. "From today on, don't prepare any more food for me." Valerie’s composure shattered. She let out a sudden, ear-splitting shriek, slamming the ladle against the wall. "No! You have to eat! You have to eat my food!" She was completely unhinged, I thought, a wild spark in her eyes. What right did she have to dictate my life? Valerie's chest heaved with agitated breaths. The doorbell chimed just then, breaking the tension. We stared at each other for a few tense seconds before I walked over to open the door. A man’s unfamiliar voice asked, "Does an Amber Peterson live here?" I quickly stepped forward, seeing two police officers standing outside. One of them held up his badge. "Her family reported her missing two weeks ago." I frowned. "How can that be? She just moved out." I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my messages. "See? On May 5th, she texted me saying she found a new place and wouldn't be renewing her lease with us." The officer meticulously examined the message. "Could we take a look at her room?" Valerie suddenly interjected, her voice sharp and grating. "She already moved out and returned the key to the landlord. You can't open the door." But I noticed her left hand clamped tight around her right wrist, where a familiar silver bracelet glinted, catching the light. I remembered seeing Amber wearing it in her selfies on social media. The police asked a few more questions, then left. After seeing them off, I stopped Valerie as she turned back to the kitchen. "That bracelet," I said, my voice low. "It belongs to Amber, doesn't it?" Valerie's pupils constricted, black pools shrinking to pinpricks. "No! It's mine! I just let her borrow it sometimes." "You two were best friends. You wouldn't know where she is?" Valerie fell silent for a moment. "We haven't been for a long time. The police already asked me. Why are you still asking?" She then ignored me and returned to the kitchen. I stood there, and my gaze caught on a small sliver of blue fabric caught in the crack of the refrigerator door. Amber had a shirt, exactly that shade of blue. 2 At five in the morning, before dawn truly broke, I quietly slipped out of the apartment. Valerie's door was tightly shut, her breathing even and deep from within. I tiptoed, not even daring to put on my shoes until I was out the front door, where I finally allowed myself to breathe. I hadn't been at the office long before my phone began to vibrate wildly. "Olivia, where are you? I left breakfast on the table for you." "Why aren't you answering? You forgot your lunch box. Should I bring it to you at noon?" "Pick up the phone!" I powered it off, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. She was completely unhinged, I thought. We'd just talked yesterday about her not making me food anymore. I figured if I just ignored her, she'd eventually give up. But at lunchtime, the front desk called. "Olivia, a Ms. Valerie Huang is here for you. She says she's delivering your lunch." My fingers dug into the edge of my desk. "I don't know her," I said, my voice tight. "Please tell her to leave." But moments later, my phone lit up again. It was a photo from Valerie. She was standing outside my office building, holding a thermos. I sighed, skipping lunch to continue my work. Finally, quitting time arrived. I deliberately lingered, waiting to be the last one out, dreading that she might still be waiting by the entrance. But as soon as I stepped out of the office building, I froze. Valerie stood under a streetlamp, still holding that thermos, her eyes locked onto mine. A smile stretched across her face as she walked towards me. "Olivia, why are you hiding from me?" I took two steps back, my heart fluttering. "I'm really busy today. And I told you, I'm on a diet. You don't need to make me breakfast or lunch." She tilted her head, her voice eerily soft. "But you'll get sick if you don't eat." I instinctively reached for my phone, trying to think of an excuse to escape, but she suddenly closed the distance, her eyes turning cold and dark. Her voice, squeezed from between clenched teeth, was barely a whisper. "Are you afraid of me? Why? Haven't I been good to you?" My back hit the cold brick wall. There was nowhere to go. Just then, a colleague's voice broke through the tension. "Olivia? You're still here?" I practically lunged, grabbing her arm. "Didn't we say we'd grab dinner together?" My colleague blinked, startled, but quickly sensed my distress and nodded. "Oh, right! Yeah, let's go! I already made reservations." Valerie stood motionless, the smile slowly draining from her face. Even as we walked far away, I could feel her gaze fixed on my back, like a cold blade. My colleague listened to my story, her chopsticks clattering to the table in terror. "You need to move out, immediately," she urged. "She sounds terrifying." I nodded, my fingers unconsciously tapping the table. "Tomorrow, while she's out, I'll go back and pack my things." The next day, around noon, I received a text from my colleague. "She came to deliver your lunch! Hurry, go pack your bags!" I immediately hailed a cab and rushed back to the apartment. I burst into my room, frantically stuffing clothes into my suitcase, and quickly moved to a new place. I spent the entire day off from work holed up in my new apartment. I even ordered takeout for dinner. The doorbell rang. I assumed it was my delivery and opened the door without a thought. But the person holding my takeout wasn't the delivery driver. Valerie stood there, a chilling smile playing on her lips, taking a step closer. "So, you're hungry? Then why won't you eat my food?" As I tried to slam the door shut, her foot jammed firmly against it. She forced her way inside, pushing me back step by step. "Valerie, calm down…" 3 Valerie's fingers clamped onto my hair, pulling fiercely. Tears stung my eyes from the pain, but I forced myself to speak with a strained calmness. "I moved out because your cooking makes me gain weight. I'm a model; I have to maintain my figure." My voice trembled, but I tried to keep it steady. "And you're… your intensity is a little overwhelming. I can't handle it." Her grip loosened slightly, but her eyes remained shadowed with anger. "You're lying," she hissed. "You're afraid of me." I shoved her away, stumbling back to the wall, my hands shaking as I pulled out my phone. "If you don't leave, I'm calling the police." Her expression froze, her lips twitching, a strange mixture of a smile and a snarl. Just then, my phone rang. An unfamiliar landline number flashed on the screen. I hesitated for a second, then pressed answer. A low, grave voice came through the line. "Hello, is this Olivia Hayes? This is Detective Davis from the city's Criminal Investigations Unit. We met a few days ago, regarding Amber Peterson's disappearance. We've reviewed the surveillance footage and found that Amber never actually left your apartment building. We need your further cooperation in this investigation." My blood ran cold. "How is that possible? She moved out!" I instinctively looked at Valerie, whose face had also gone stark white. Detective Davis stated gravely, "The footage shows her last seen entering your apartment. She was never seen leaving it. Are you available to come down to the station now?" My throat tightened. "Yes, I'll be right there." After hanging up, the room was terrifyingly silent. Valerie's phone rang then too. She glanced down at it, her eyes flickering. "Is that the police?" I asked. She didn't answer, just stared at me, a cold, mocking smirk finally twisting her lips. "Let's go," she said. "Together." In the police station's interrogation room, the air conditioning was cranked high, yet I was drenched in a cold sweat. Detective Davis's gaze was sharp, like it could pierce through any lie. He asked me a few simple questions. "When did you last see Amber? Did she seem unusual? What was your relationship with her?" I answered truthfully. "We weren't close. I was busy with work, so we rarely talked." Detective Davis nodded, making a few notes. Then, he suddenly asked, "What's your relationship like with Valerie?" My hand twitched. "Just regular roommates." "Did she ever display any unusual behavior towards Amber?" I hesitated, then lowered my voice. "Officer, are you suspicious of her? Have you investigated her?" His pen paused, and he looked up at me for two seconds before stating calmly, "The case is still under investigation. We cannot disclose any details at this time." Just then, another officer knocked and entered, whispering something to him. His expression instantly turned grim. He stood up. "Ladies, we need you both to accompany us back to the apartment." When we returned, a police cordon had already been set up around the entrance. Several officers were sifting through Amber's room, while Valerie and I were instructed to wait in the living room. I secretly glanced at Valerie. Her fingernails were digging deep into her palms, yet her face remained impassive. An officer emerged from Amber's room, holding a notebook. "All her IDs, wallet, and phone are still here. Even her suitcase hasn't been touched." Detective Davis frowned. "This doesn't look like she moved out voluntarily." My heart pounded faster and faster. I couldn't help but look at Valerie. She was staring back at me, a chilling, uncanny smile playing on her lips. Suddenly, Detective Davis's phone rang. He answered it, and his face instantly paled. "Are you sure it's Amber Peterson?" My breath hitched. After hanging up, Detective Davis took a deep breath, looking at us. "A female body has been found in a reservoir in the suburbs. Preliminary identification confirms it's Amber Peterson."
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