I never imagined my life would end up feeling like the beginning of a crime thriller.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My roommate, Lily, and I had lived together for two years. She was the kind of person who lit up a room \u2014 always laughing, always making friends wherever she went. The kind of girl you couldn\u2019t imagine ever having enemies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then\u2026 she vanished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One Friday night, she said she was heading out to meet a friend. She never came back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I called her phone. No answer. I checked with her friends. Nobody had seen her. By morning, I was filing a missing persons report.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The police searched. They questioned me, our neighbors, her coworkers. They even spoke to her family. But days turned into weeks, and the trail went cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the end of the year, her parents had stopped calling for updates. Even the detectives moved on to other cases. But I couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stayed in the house, partly because I couldn\u2019t afford to move, partly because I couldn\u2019t let go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was a warm afternoon when I finally decided to sell the house. I thought clearing out her room would be the hardest part, but most of her things were already gone \u2014 donated or boxed up in the attic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I moved her old dresser.<\/p>\n\n\n\n