Chapter 1

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"Hello... Yep. Who is this? No, you can't. Yeah, right..." You thought you heard a brass and sassy female voice answering the phone.

You were somewhere between a dream and the real world; that place where you still felt warm and cozy under a mound of soft blankets and pillows, like your insides were melting toffee— sticky and pliable but you were awake enough to understand the fleeting nature of the moment.

Your half-asleep reaction was to grumble while rolling ungracefully out of bed, your hair falling away and slipping out of your face.

The two past years have brought you maturity. Your face possessed a survivor's edge, making you appear stronger. Your hair had grown longer and the rest of you more defined.

You were inside of your typical girl college dorm room. Pink and messy with posters all over the walls and furniture scattered literally everywhere the eye could see.

"I got it," you groaned in a hoarse voice and stretched, standing up to sleepily move over to Hallie, your roommate and friend.

She was an attractive dark skinned girl, twenty at most. Brazen, fun and full of life.

Basically, the exact opposite of you on your worst days. Sometimes even on your best.

She handed it over to you. "Hello?"

"(Y/N)."

You didn't flinch, just blinked tiredly while your foot tapped impatiently on the milky white carpet. "Yes?"

"What's your favourite scary movie?"

"Who is this?"

"You tell me."

Still unaffected, you grabbed a small device hooked to the phone and stole a glimpse at the display, cocking your head slightly. "Gory Gillis. 442-8730."

*Click*

The phone went dead. You pulled up your shoulders indifferently. "Enjoy the movie."

Hallie heaved out a resigned sigh. "Time to change numbers again?"

"Nah." You rolled your lips into your mouth. "I think it'll die off. It's opening weekend after all."

You grabbed your fluffy (F/C) robe, listening to various morning news programs as Hallie flicked through the different TV channels.

"... The two victims, Maureen Evans and Phil Stevens..."

She switched the channel and you heard a guy some years older than you being interviewed. You turned to face the TV, instantly recognizing the man displayed on the screen.

Cotton Weary.

"He sure gives a lot of interviews for someone who wants to be left alone," Hallie commented offhandedly, hitting the remote. The guy's image disappeared as the TV went off.

"Get your ass in gear, (Y/N). You're late. Don't forget we've got rush at the Deltas tonight. Don't wear anything you don't want trashed. (Y/N)? (Y/N)?"

You spun on your heels, pressing your lips together with a tight smile. "I can't believe I let you talk me into going Greek..."

Then you moved over to the door and throw it open. "Pumps. Nice handbag. Whaddya think?"

You kept surprisingly cool and exited out the door, leaving Hallie standing by herself.

Once you stepped outside of the dorm, the warm morning sun hit your face as you breathe in the fresh air, taking in the day just as fifty news reporters swarmed you all at once.

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