Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
“Hey roomie, any update on the locks?”
I keep my phone out to watch for her response, but I don’t hear from her until I’m at the athletic center changing into my workout clothes.
“Locks have been changed, but we need to talk.”
“Okay, I’ve got some time now if you’re free?”
“Not via text. I don’t want to talk at the apartment, either. When is your last class?”
“My humanities seminar ends at four. Is everything okay? You sound… weird.”
“I think it’s kind of weird that you don’t,” she answers.
I frown at the screen, now thoroughly confused. “Are you mad at me or something?”
“No. I’ll meet you on the bench outside the building at four.”
___
Since I didn’t get to do my hair and makeup at Killian’s place this morning, I take advantage of the athletic center showers after my workout. I usually bring a change of clothes, but I don’t like showering in communal spaces, so I would wait until I get back to my apartment for that.
As I’m brushing on a second coat of mascara, the girl at the sink next to me realizes hers is out of soap and asks if I mind her using mine.
“No, of course not.” I move my junk to the side. “Sorry, don’t mind me.”
She flashes me a smile as she brings her hands over to get a little squirt of soap from my dispenser. “I remember you. Brynn, right?”
My eyebrows rise in surprise, then I realize I have seen her before—at Zeta house during rush. “Wow, it’s really the ghosts of rushes past this week, isn’t it?” I murmur.
She frowns, uncomprehending, so I flash her an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, just talking to myself. It’s been a weird day.”
“No kidding,” she says solemnly, shaking her head. “It’s a shame about the Rho Kappas. I couldn’t believe it when I heard. I’ve been to a party at that house before. It’s just crazy.”
The Rho Kappas?
My confusion must be written all over my face because her eyes widen. “You haven’t heard about what happened?”
“No?” I say uncertainly.
She appears scandalized, but there’s also a weird aura of secret excitement that she gets to break the news to someone new. “Oh my god. Let me show you.”
She pulls out her phone, swipes and taps until she has a video pulled up on social media. I lean over to look, and my heart just about drops out of my body at what I see.
Someone can be heard when the video starts saying, “Holy shit,” but the visual speaks for itself.
The Rho Kappa fraternity house, the same one I fled just a few nights ago, is engulfed in flames. Smoke billows up in the dark night sky, and bystanders on the other side of the sidewalk watch as a firehose shoots at the flames without making a discernible difference. On the sidewalk directly in front of the house, a Rho Kappa I recognize from the party sits with his hands on his head, staring up at the horrifying sight before him.
I… have no words.
“We’re hosting a fundraiser for them this weekend,” the girl tells me. “Since the fire was started in the middle of the night, all their belongings were inside the house. The guys who survived lost everything.”
I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to drop any lower, but it does. “The… guys who survived?”
Her eyes widen again as she realizes I’m unaware of the juiciest morsel. “Two of the guys died. At least two. There’s a third presently unaccounted for.”
Oh my god.
“Which two?”
“I don’t know. The names haven’t been released yet.”
Oh my god.
She touches her phone screen, searching for some other video she wants to show me, but I’m no longer paying attention.
Vaguely, I see another video start playing, and I see the girl’s mouth moving, indicating she’s talking, but I can’t hear past the buzzing in my ears, the furious pounding of my heart in my chest.
The Rho Kappa house burned down last night?
The same night Killian had to go out on “Blue Blood business” and not come home until god knows when?
I feel like I’m going to be sick. The girl—Vanessa I think was her name—sees me looking pale and grabs all my things off the sink, tossing them back in my bag.
“Come on, sit down. Are you okay? I know it’s a lot.”
Too many thoughts and feelings circle me at once. I can’t process all of it.
The girl sits next to me on the little bench in the locker room area. She texts while my head spins and I fight the impulse to dissociate again.
Because I don’t want to deal with this.
I don’t want to process the implications of this.
Yeah, the guys who trapped me in that basement were unequivocally assholes, but what about all the other guys who lived in that house? The innocent ones who had no idea it was even happening.