Chapter 2: The Premonition in the Painting

Ava stumbled out of Haverford Hall into the storm, the wind snatching at her sweater and whipping her dark hair across her face. The rain fell in sheets, soaking her jeans as she hurried across the quad, her boots splashing through puddles that reflected the dim glow of the campus lamps. The gothic spires of Oakwood University loomed overhead, their shadows stretching long and jagged in the flickering light. She clutched her phone in one hand, the torn note from Lily's bed crumpled in her pocket, its words echoing in her mind: Don't look for me. She couldn't shake the image of that sketch either—the shadowed figure, the blood, the sense of something terrible waiting to happen. She needed to do something, anything, to make sense of it all.

The library was her first thought. It was open late, a haven of warmth and quiet where she could think. She pushed through the heavy oak doors, the musty smell of books and polished wood washing over her as the storm's roar dulled to a distant hum. The main hall was nearly empty, just a few students hunched over laptops or dozing in armchairs. Ava found a corner table near the back, tucked behind towering shelves, and dropped her bag onto the chair beside her. Her hands were still trembling as she pulled out her sketchbook, the damp edges of the pages curling from the rain. She flipped to the drawing she'd made in the dorm, her breath catching as she studied it again. The figure seemed more menacing now, its outline sharper, as if it had solidified in the hours since she'd drawn it. The red smear beneath it looked wet, almost alive.

She didn't know what it meant, not really. These flashes of intuition had haunted her since she was nine, when her mother vanished without a trace. Back then, she'd drawn a woman walking into a fog, her silhouette fading into nothing, two days before her mom left. Ava had shown it to her dad, proud of her little masterpiece, but he'd gone pale and locked it in a drawer. When her mother didn't come home, he'd burned the sketch, muttering about superstition. Ava hadn't stopped drawing after that—she couldn't—but she'd learned to keep the strange ones to herself. They didn't always predict the future, not exactly. Sometimes they were just feelings, fears given shape. But this one felt different. It felt like Lily.

She grabbed a pencil from her bag, her fingers steadying as she pressed it to a fresh page. If she could draw more, maybe she'd see something useful, something to tell her where Lily was or what had happened. The library's hum faded as she worked, the scratch of graphite against paper the only sound in her world. She started with the dorm room: the unmade bed, the yellow coat dripping on its hook, the torn note. Her hand moved faster, adding details she hadn't noticed before—a faint scuff mark on the floor near Lily's desk, a shadow in the window that didn't match the storm's chaos. Then the scene shifted, unbidden, to a place she didn't recognize: a stone archway covered in ivy, a rusted gate half-open, and beyond it, a figure running. Not Lily, not quite, but someone small and frantic, disappearing into the dark.

Ava's chest tightened. She dropped the pencil, her breath ragged as she stared at the new sketch. The archway looked familiar, like something she'd passed on campus, but she couldn't place it. The running figure sent a jolt of dread through her, sharp and cold. Was this Lily? Was this happening now, or had it already happened? She rubbed her eyes, the edges of her vision blurring with exhaustion and fear. She needed help—someone to tell her she wasn't crazy, someone who could do more than draw vague warnings.

Her phone buzzed on the table, startling her. The screen lit up with a text from Sarah, her friend from art class: Hey, you okay? You looked freaked out in studio today. Ava hesitated, then typed a quick reply: Not really. Can you meet me at the library? Something's wrong. She hit send and waited, her fingers tapping nervously against the table. Sarah was practical, grounded, the kind of person who'd tell her to stop overthinking. Maybe she'd have an idea, or at least keep Ava from spiraling alone.

While she waited, Ava pulled Lily's note from her pocket and smoothed it out on the table. The ink had smudged from the rain, but the words were still legible. Don't look for me. It didn't sound like Lily—not the bubbly girl who'd dragged Ava to karaoke last month, who'd stayed up late debating whether pineapple belonged on pizza. Lily wouldn't write something so cryptic, so final, unless she had no choice. Ava's mind raced, piecing together the last time she'd seen her. Yesterday morning, Lily had been rushing to class, her blonde hair tied back, her bio textbook under her arm. She'd mentioned meeting Matt later, something about a study date. Had she gone? Had something happened after?

The library doors swung open, and Sarah hurried in, her red curls bouncing as she shook off her umbrella. She spotted Ava and waved, her freckled face creasing with concern as she approached. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she said, dropping into the chair across from Ava. "What's going on?"

"Lily's gone," Ava blurted, her voice low but urgent. She slid the note across the table. "I found this in our room tonight. Her bed's a mess, her phone's off, and her coat's still there, soaking wet. I don't know what to do."

Sarah's eyes widened as she read the note, her fingers tracing the torn edge. "This is creepy. Did you call her?"

"Three times. Straight to voicemail." Ava leaned forward, her hands clasped tight. "I tried the police too, but they said it's too soon, that she's probably just with her boyfriend or something. But this doesn't feel right, Sarah. She wouldn't leave like this."

Sarah frowned, turning the note over as if expecting more clues. "What about Matt? Have you talked to him?"

"Not yet. I don't even know where he is. Probably at his frat house, but I don't have his number." Ava glanced at her sketchbook, then flipped it open to the new drawing. "And then there's this. I drew it just now. I don't know what it means, but it scares me."

Sarah leaned closer, her brow furrowing as she studied the sketch. The stone archway, the rusted gate, the fleeing figure—they seemed to pull her in, her silence stretching too long. "This looks like the east gate," she said finally, her voice hushed. "You know, by the old chapel? It's locked most of the time, but people sneak through sometimes. Did Lily ever go there?"

Ava shook her head, her pulse quickening. "Not that I know of. But if that's where she went…" She trailed off, the implications sinking in. The old chapel was on the edge of campus, a crumbling relic surrounded by overgrown ivy and rumors of late-night parties. If Lily had been there, alone in the storm, something could have happened. Something bad.

"Okay, slow down," Sarah said, holding up a hand. "You don't know that's where she is. This could just be your imagination, you know how you get with your drawings. Let's try the sensible stuff first. Call campus security, see if they'll check it out."

Ava nodded, pulling out her phone again. She found the security number on the university website and dialed, her heart pounding as it rang. A bored voice answered after three rings. "Oakwood Security, what's your issue?"

"My roommate's missing," Ava said, forcing her voice to stay steady. "Her name's Lily Parker. She left a note saying not to look for her, but her stuff's still in our room, and her phone's off. I'm worried something's happened."

The man sighed, the sound crackling through the speaker. "How long's she been gone?"

"I don't know, since last night maybe? I just got back and found the note."

"Look, unless it's been twenty-four hours or there's clear evidence of foul play, we can't do much. Kids take off all the time—boyfriend trouble, stress, whatever. Check with her friends. If she's still gone tomorrow, call us back."

"But her coat's here," Ava pressed, frustration creeping into her tone. "It's pouring outside, and she wouldn't leave without it. Can't you at least look around?"

Another sigh. "We'll note it, alright? But we're not sending a team out in this weather for a hunch. Call back if you've got something solid." The line clicked dead.

Ava lowered the phone, her jaw tight. "They don't care," she said, meeting Sarah's eyes. "They think she's just run off."

Sarah bit her lip, glancing at the sketch again. "Maybe she did. But that note… it's weird. And your drawing…" She hesitated, then squared her shoulders. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but you shouldn't be alone tonight. Stay at my place, okay? We'll figure this out tomorrow."

Ava wanted to argue, to insist on doing more now, but exhaustion was creeping in, dulling her edges. She nodded reluctantly, gathering her things. As they left the library, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the air felt heavier, charged with something she couldn't name. She glanced back at the campus, the east gate's image lingering in her mind. Whatever had happened to Lily, Ava knew she couldn't stop looking—not yet.