Chapter 1My roommate stayed out all night. Begged me to cover for her with our RA. Next day? She told everyone I let her get raped.
She called the cops. Blamed ME for not reporting her missing.
The school forced me to pay $5,000. Killed my grad school application. Ruined my record.
The day I left, I got hit by a car.
When I woke up, she was calling. Again.
"Babe, cover for me with the RA tonight? Same as always?"
I smiled.
"Yeah. Be safe."
Then opened the housing portal.
Clicked ABSENT. REPORT TO RA.
This time, everyone would see the truth.
That night she didn't come back? I was the ONLY one trying to find her.
---
My phone buzzes.
Sutton's name lights up the screen.
"Heyyyy can you tell Wesley I'm here if he checks? You know how it is~ I owe you!"
Her voice is all sugar.
That fake-sweet tone she uses when she wants something.
My hand's shaking.
Not from anger.
From cold.
The kind that makes your teeth chatter.
Last time, I lied for her.
Told our RA, Wesley Brennan, that Sutton was in bed asleep when he did room checks.
Next morning, she called the cops.
Said she got raped.
Her parents stormed campus. Sutton pointed at me, tears streaming:
"You knew I wasn't in the dorm! Why didn't you check on me?!"
Wesley called me into his office. Acting like he cares.
"Lana, you should've flagged it. We could've checked on her. Now her parents wanna sue."
I thought he was trying to help me.
Nope. He goes to church with Sutton's mom. Knew she was lying the whole time.
Just easier to fuck me over.
I got written up. Lost my grad school rec. Had to pay her family five grand for "emotional damages."
The day I got kicked out, everyone looked at me like I was garbage.
Like I was the one who fucked up.
Maybe I did. I signed that sheet, didn't I? Put her name down like an idiot.
I was walking home with a high fever. Could barely stay upright.
Stepped into the street without looking.
Some asshole ran a red light.
I remember hitting the ground. Blood spreading under my head.
Thinking: Fuck. This is really it.
Then nothing.
Now I'm staring at our dorm ceiling.
The air smells like Tide pods and old takeout.
Sutton's fuzzy pink bathrobe is hanging on her bed frame.
I check my phone.
September 12th, 2024. 9:47 PM.
Eleven hours until she calls the cops.
I take a breath.
"Yeah, got it. Be safe."
Hang up.
Walk over to the door.
There's this paper sign-in sheet still hanging there. From back when we didn't have the digital system.
Wesley's supposed to look at it when he checks rooms. But honestly? He just walks by.
I pick up the pen.
Write: Sutton Yates, 10:00 PM, present.
Then I stop. Put the pen down.
Sit back at my desk.
Open the Residence Life Portal on my laptop.
This thing's a piece of shit. Glitchy. Ugly interface. Takes three clicks just to log in.
Nobody uses it.
Every RA on campus just does paper checks because it's faster.
But it's official.
I scroll to tonight's log.
Sutton's name is there. Status: "Not updated."
I click it.
A dropdown appears: Present / Absent / Overnight Guest Registered.
I select Absent.
A text box pops up: Reason for absence?
I type:
"Roommate's been gone overnight multiple times this month. I've asked where she's going. She won't tell me. Recording this."
Hit submit.
The system loads.
"Submitted. RA notified."
I screenshot it.
Save it in a hidden folder.
Sutton, you wanna play games?
Let's fucking play.
Chapter 2
10:14 PM. Iris pokes her head out from the top bunk.
"Sutton's not coming back again?"
"Nope."
"Did you ask when she'd be back?"
"Yeah."
I did.
Open our text thread and type:
"Hey what time you coming back? Dorm doors lock at 11."
She replies instantly. A pouty-face emoji.
No words.
I wait five minutes. Try again:
"Where are you? Want me to come get you?"
Typing...
The bubble appears. Disappears.
Nothing.
11:00 PM. I send one more:
"Doors are locking soon. Text me if you need me to let you in."
The message sits there.
Unread.
I screenshot all three. Timestamp and everything.
Last time? I didn't send a single text.
Figured if I asked too many questions, she'd think I didn't trust her.
Sutton did this all the time—disappeared for a night or two, came back like nothing happened. Never told me where she went. Never told me who she was with.
I was just supposed to cover for her.
And I did.
Because I thought that's what friends did.
Turns out, being a good friend can get you fucked.
This time, I sent the texts.
She didn't answer.
I scroll through her Instagram. She posted a boba pic two hours ago.
Someone commented: "You're out late!"
Another: "Who you with? ?"
She didn't reply to any of them.
I try calling.
Rings three times. She declines it.
Texts back:
"Babe I'm busy rn ttyl"
I screenshot that too.
Then put my phone down. Close my eyes.
That's enough.
7:00 AM. I wake up.
Sutton's bed is empty.
I grab my phone.
Send her one more text:
"You didn't come back last night? You good?"
No reply.
I brush my teeth. Get dressed.
When I check my phone again, there's a message from Iris:
"Did you see the group chat?"
I open it.
999+ messages.
I scroll up.
The first one was sent at 6:30 AM.
From Sutton.
"Hey everyone... I called the police last night. Something happened. I'm okay now. Just finished giving my statement. Thanks for caring about me."
Someone asks:
"Why didn't you call your roommate??"
Sutton replies five minutes later:
"I did. I told her I was going out. I texted her all night. She never answered. I think... I think she was asleep. I don't blame her. I just wish she'd checked on me."
Then:
"We're supposed to be best friends. I didn't think she'd just... not care if I came home or not."
The chat explodes.
"Wait, LANA?"
"Are you serious? She knew you were gone and didn't do anything?"
"She literally signed you in on the sheet, Sutton wasn't even there."
"What kind of RA does that?"
"She's not the RA, but she's supposed to report it, right?"
"That's so fucked up."
My phone vibrates.
Wesley's calling.
"Lana. My office. Now."
Chapter 3
When I walk in, there are six people crammed into Wesley's tiny office.
The housing director. The Title IX coordinator. Wesley. Sutton and both her parents.
Sutton's wearing a clean hoodie, sleeves pulled down over her hands. Her eyes are red and swollen.
There's a bruise on her neck. Fresh.
When she sees me, she looks away.
Her mom's glaring like I'm a murderer.
Wesley clears his throat.
Wesley clears his throat. "Okay. Sutton, why don't you tell us what happened that night?"
Her voice comes out small. Shaky.
"I called Lana around 10. Told her I was going out for a little bit and I'd be back soon. She said okay."
"Then I... I didn't come back. And she didn't text me. Didn't call. Nothing."
"When the police asked if anyone from school knew I was gone, I said my roommate knew. But she didn't check on me."
She sniffs.
"I just thought... I thought we were closer than that."
Her mom jumps in.
"You heard her. Lana knew Sutton was out. All night. And she didn't do a damn thing."
"My daughter went through hell, and this girl was just—what? Sleeping?"
Wesley turns to me.
"Lana. Is that true?"
I grip my phone.
"She called me, yeah. But she didn't say she'd 'be right back.' She asked me to cover for—"
"Cover for ME?"
Sutton's head snaps up.
"I never said that."
"You've said it like twenty times before."
The room goes silent.
Wesley frowns.
"Twenty times?"
"Yeah. Last semester she was gone overnight all the time. Every time, she'd call and ask me to tell you she was in bed if you asked."
"She said her mom checks the logs and she didn't want her to worry."
"I thought it was like before—I thought she was just out—"
Sutton's voice spikes. Tears still on her cheeks, but her eyes have gone cold.
"I NEVER asked you to cover for me. Not once."
"Every time you called me—"
"Called. Exactly. No texts. No proof."
Her mom cuts in, voice like ice.
"You're saying my daughter was out all night, over and over? Where are the texts? Show them to us."
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
"Then keep your goddamn mouth shut. We're here because you didn't do your job. Don't you dare try to blame this on her."
I don't have them.
Because Sutton never texted.
She always called.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Last life, I signed her name over twenty times. And I had zero proof.
No screenshots. No texts. Nothing.
So when she turned on me, I couldn't fight back.
Sutton looks back at Wesley. Her voice drops, gets all shaky again.
"I only called her that one time. She said 'okay' and hung up. That was it. She never checked on me after."
Wesley glances at me.
I know that look.
The same one he gave me last time.
The you fucked up look.
He sighs. Shakes his head.
"Lana, I get it. You probably thought it wasn't serious. But you're her roommate. If something felt wrong, you should've flagged it."
"I—"
"Simple question. Did you report her absence or not?"
The room is dead silent.
The Title IX coordinator is typing. Every click sounds too loud.
Sutton's dad hasn't said a word. His jaw's tight.
I try to breathe.
"She's done this before. I'm just saying—"
"Stop." Wesley cuts in. "We're not talking about 'before.' We're talking about that night. You knew she was gone. You didn't follow up. That's the issue here."
"So I'm asking: are you admitting you screwed up?"
I can't answer.
If I say yes, I'm admitting I let her get hurt.
If I say no, I have to show them what I did.
The screenshot's on my phone. Right there.
But if I pull it out now? Wesley's just gonna shut it down. Say it doesn't prove anything. Say I'm lying.
I know he will.
So I stay quiet.
"Alright." Wesley stands up.
"Lana. You can go for now. We'll reach out after we look into everything."
"I'd think about how you wanna approach this next time. Just... be smart about it."
I walk out.
There are people in the hallway.
Phones out.
I hear the camera shutter click as I pass.
Someone whispers:
"That's her. Sutton's roommate."
"She knew Sutton was gone and didn't even text her."
I don't stop.
Go back to my room.
Iris isn't there.
My phone is blowing up.
Someone posted a photo of me leaving Wesley's office.
The caption:
"This is Lana Caldwell. She knew her roommate was missing and did NOTHING. Then lied about it."
Top comment:
"How do you sleep at night?"
Another:
"Expel her."
I turn off my phone.
Sit on my bed. Stare at nothing.
Go ahead, Sutton. Keep lying.
Make yourself look like the victim.
You're just making this easier for me.
When I show them the truth, you're fucked.
