My laptop’s gone.
My chest tightens. The charger’s there, curled on the floor like a snake, but the laptop is missing. It was on the nightstand this morning, next to my makeup. I’m sure of it.
I dart across the room, checking under my pillow and blanket, in the laptop sleeve. Under the mattress even. It’s not on the desk. Not on the floor. There’s nowhere else.
It’s just…gone.
My heart pounds so hard I feel as if I’m going to be sick. Cool sweat gathers at the nape of my neck. My head spins. The room spins. The fan clicks rhythmically above me, grinding my nerves. I check under the blanket again, then under the bed. I lift the mattress again because logic is unraveling, and the impossible is the only solution.
I check the hall, the pillowcase. I check outside the window, like it might’ve opened the glass pane and leaped out.
It’s just…gone.
The room spins, my breathing loud in my ears. Everything was on there.My stories. The document drafts.
My cloud has some things backed up, but not everything because I’m always avoiding buying more storage.
It’s all gone.
The novel I’m working on.
The poetry I’ve written over the years.
And—no.The folder marked AR—TRUTH. The one I’d just started constructing. The screenshots and drafts comparing Ralston’s work to mine. The beginnings of my written statement.
Some stupid part of me really believed I was going to win this, that I was going to get some big reveal eventually.
I sink down on the bed, my hands shaking.
The truth is right there, undeniable. Someone was in my room.
Someone stole everything I had. Months ago, it wouldn’t have mattered so much. It was password protected until Dad started forgetting. I couldn’t stand to watch another time while he struggled to open my laptop, to show me something funny he’d seen—something he’d probably already shown me—during a visit. Removing the password felt like the kindest thing to do, so I took away the reminder that he’s slipping away.
I force myself to think, to breathe. React with power and strategy, not emotion.
There were no signs of forced entry. My purse is still in the drawer, wallet too. My headphones are still here.
Nothing is missing except for the laptop. But, of course, nothing else matters except for the laptop either.
Stay calm.
Calm. It feels like the word belongs to another language. It feels impossible.
Who would do this? Dani? She seems like the most logical answer. She knew I had proof on my laptop. She would’ve had a lot to gain from shutting me up, especially in Ralston’s eyes.
Regardless of who physically stole my laptop, I know Ralston’s behind it.
I put my head in my hands, the silence and the loss weighing on me.
The message is clear, and I misread it at the art show. She’s done arguing with me. She’s going to erase me, just like she did before.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I’m lost as I rush out of my dorm and move around campus, no idea who to confront or what to do. In my whirlwind of panic, I just have to keep moving. If I’d even considered going home last night, I now know I can’t.
For one thing, I can’t give in after this. But more pressing, I can’t leave without my laptop. I can’t afford another one, and I need the evidence that’s on it—if it’s even still there.
Part of me suspects it’s been destroyed by now.
