When I turn around, I wince at her bed.Unmade, of course.She tosses the covers off when she gets up and leaves them however they fall all day.It’s probably her most annoying habit.Who wants to get into an unmade bed at the end of the day?
She keeps a bottle on her nightstand.That’s good.I like that she drinks plenty of water.I hate that she sometimes pops pills before going to sleep.I’ve looked.The pills are relatively harmless.Melatonin.She probably needs them because of me.I still don’t like it.I’ve considered flushing them, but then she’d just buy more, and I don’t get the impression she has much money.
Who is funding your extras, Briana?
I know she has grants that cover her tuition, room, and board.She even has one for books.That tells me she grew up in poverty.In fact, I wonder if she even has any living parents since there is no evidence of relatives anywhere.
I glance at my watch.I’ve permitted myself thirty minutes in her room.I need to get out of here now.Before I do, I head for her closet, thumb through her shirts, and remove two.I hate them.They’re too revealing.I consider taking them with me, but decide to stick them in her suitcase in the back corner.
Hopefully, she won’t notice them missing.Out of sight, out of mind.But if she does, and she searches for them, at least she’ll eventually locate them and feel less crazy.
I chuckle.I kind of like the idea of her being a bit off-kilter.In fact, I decide to take a risk and make her bed, too.Maybe she’ll get the hint and start doing it on her own.Will she think she did it herself this morning?Or will she go into a panic?Either way, I’ll be watching and waiting for her reaction.
Five
Briana
As I stare at the ceiling in the near darkness, my brain is racing.I can’t shut it off.I think I’m losing my mind.It’s been ten days since school started.Ten days since the mysterious man hauled me into that pantry and upended my world.
I can’t get him out of my head.I feel like he’s always watching me.He knows where I live, so it’s possible.I’ve researched the lore of the freshman prank at Darkwell University.It seems to be real, but the details are vague.I get the feeling not many women have reported the incidents.As one of them, I can see why.
There’s no mention anywhere of repeat performances or stalking, so I have to assume it’s all in my head.There’s no way he’s following me.And it’s ludicrous to think he’s been in my room.Touched my things.
But something is off.When I returned home today, my bed was made.I never make my bed.Why bother?I’m just going to climb back into it later.Most of my foster parents insisted we make our beds in the morning, but now that I make my own decisions, I’ve stopped taking the time.And yet…
For the millionth time since I got home, I run through the events of the morning in my head.I remember getting up after hitting my snooze three times—as usual.I set my alarm for fifteen minutes before I really need to get out of bed.It gives me a chance to ease into consciousness.I’ve done it for years.It started in high school when I shared a room with another teenager.We used her alarm.It was her habit, and I picked it up.I had no other choice.
I remember stumbling into my bathroom, brushing my teeth, and peeing.I remember returning to my room in my panties to grab a bra and then jeans and a T-shirt—my usual college outfit of choice.
That’s my routine most days.Why the hell would I have stopped to make my bed?Did I take too much melatonin last night?Maybe I took it twice and it has left me confused and out of sorts this morning.
No matter how hard I try to recall, I don’t come up with a plausible explanation for finding my bed made.Could one of my roommates have done it?That’s more logical than where my head is going.To a mystery man whom I’ve convinced myself is stalking me.
Batshit.
I’m not going to fall asleep.Again.So I sit up, grab the stupid pills, and pop one in my mouth.After downing it with water, I drop back onto the mattress and resume staring at the ceiling.
It seems like minutes later that something brushes against my arm.I jerk awake, opening my eyes, but I can’t see anything.And then suddenly, a hand comes over my mouth, and all the blood drains from my body.
I’m aware of someone sitting on the edge of my bed.It’s dipped and leaning that direction.When I try to lift my arms, I discover they are trapped at my sides under the covers.I’m pinned between this man’s hip and his other hand planted firmly against my other side.
It’shim.
I know it all the way to my bones.I can smell him.His woodsy scent fills my nose with every inhale.
I thought I had experienced the worst kind of panic the night he pulled me into the pantry, but I was wrong.My panic is much more intense this time.He’s in my bedroom.In the middle of the night.
“Do you know what a ball gag is, princess?”
My entire body jerks, but I can’t move an inch.
“I bet you’ve never seen one.You’re far too innocent to have researched bondage or sadism, aren’t you?”
I take sharp breaths in and out through my nose.Why can’t I see?My eyes are open.I’m blindfolded…
He continues, “A ball gag is exactly what you’re probably picturing.It’s a rubber ball attached to a strap.When it’s inserted into someone’s mouth, it holds their jaw wide open to prevent speech.The strap is secured at the back of the head.The wearer ends up slobbering down their face because they can’t swallow their saliva properly.Would you like me to put a ball gag in your mouth, princess?”
I’m not sure how much of that I grasped, but it was enough to shake my head slightly.