In the summer of 2011, something began.
Something no one could explain.
Three girls went missing.
One of them was Onni.
She was calm, soft-spoken, and beautiful in a quiet way — the kind of beauty that didn't ask for attention but still drew every eye.
To me, she wasn't just a girl. She was the reason I believed in feelings that went deeper than words.
I was in Class 6 when it happened.
I didn't talk much. I wasn't good at making friends. I kept to myself, always lost in my imagination — thinking about things that never existed, dreaming of a life where I was someone better, someone stronger.
Someone she might notice.
When Onni moved to a new school — Green High School — I changed schools too.
Not because my old school was bad.
But because she was there.
Maybe that sounds stupid.
But at that age, when you don't have much to believe in, a crush can become your entire reason to change.
I thought maybe I could become more confident. Maybe I could finally talk to her. Maybe something would be different.
It wasn't.
Every time I saw her walking past me, I froze. My heart pounded so loudly I thought others could hear it.
Once, she glanced at me while walking past. That single moment fueled my obsession for weeks.
I heard she had joined a local coaching center run by one of our schoolteachers — an English class held in the teacher's own apartment.
It felt like fate.
So I convinced myself to join too.
I was terrified of talking to people. But I made myself do it.
The teacher welcomed me. The fee was low — unusually low for the area.
He was well-off. He lived in a large apartment complex and used one of the rooms in his flat for classes. The hall was big, the bedrooms locked. Students weren't allowed in any room except the hall and the washroom.
Nobody ever questioned it.
My first day at the coaching center, I arrived five minutes early.
I looked around for Onni. She wasn't there.
"Where's Onni?" I whispered to myself.
After class ended, the teacher said she was sick and wouldn't be attending for a few days.
But she didn't show up the next day either.
Or the next.
Or at school.
Weeks passed.
And then, the news broke.
Onni had been missing.
She had stayed home alone while her parents visited their village for an emergency. They didn't take her because she had exams coming.
But when they called and she didn't pick up for over 24 hours, they rushed home.
The house was locked from the outside. Her phone was gone.
No one had seen her leave.
At first, the police treated it like any other case. A girl gone missing — maybe kidnapped, maybe smuggled.
They searched. They asked questions.
And then… they began to forget.
Until they found the body.
A lake near the outskirts of town.
A white sheet floating gently beside a rescue team boat.
They pulled it out and unwrapped it.
It was her.
Onni.
Eleven years old.
Both her legs — gone.
Her left arm — gone.
The police confirmed the limbs were cut off after her death.
No struggle marks. No signs of sexual assault.
Just clean, surgical separations.
Almost like… she was being prepared.
That case could've ended there. People were scared. But scared people forget fast.
Until it happened again.
Exactly one month later — August 10th.
Two girls from our school vanished.
Maya and Sonnu.
Close friends. Maya had long hair. Sonnu wore glasses.
That day, they were supposed to go out and "hang with a friend."
Maya carried a phone. But her last shared location couldn't be traced. It was as if she disappeared off the grid.
Later, someone recovered a text from her phone. Sent to Sonnu just before they entered a certain apartment.
"He's going to show us something amazing. I told you we got lucky!"
Another:
"He only invited us… because we're beautiful."
One more:
"He said he'd help us get better grades. Just us two."
They rang the bell. Ting tong.
"Ah, welcome," the teacher said. "I thought you wouldn't come."
He smiled. Asked if they had told anyone.
"No, sir," they both replied. "Our parents would've gotten mad."
"Good, good. Let me grab something for you."
He left the room. Maya followed him after a minute.
She didn't return.
Sonnu waited.
"What are they doing?"
"Are they… exchanging the exam paper without me?"
Annoyed, she walked to the hallway.
No one.
She knocked on the washroom door. Silence.
She stepped into the next room.
Blood.
It was everywhere.
Splattered across the walls.
Seeping into the tiles.
"M-Maya?" she whispered.
She turned to run.
A sharp pain pierced her back.
She collapsed, gasping, twisting her neck to see—
Him.
Smiling. Calm.
A gleam in his eyes that didn't look human.
He leaned forward.
"Good meat," he whispered.
To be continued…