The Decameron 2.0

Day 3.10 Fear - SORORITY SLAYER fallzswimmer

It's dark.

I shouldn't be walking across campus alone, especially given the current circumstances, but none of my sorority sisters are enrolled in night classes. Even if some of them were, I doubt they'd be attending.

I don't blame them.

Three Greek girls have already died, all stabbed to death by someone the media has christened the Sorority Slayer.

Personally, I think it's a stupid name for a serial killer. It reminds me of a cheesy horror movie where you laugh at the bad acting more than you scream. But that hasn't stopped fear from spreading through our sleepy college town like a bad case of mono. It's a wonder classes haven't been canceled.

University Promenade, the heart of Edgewood State, is normally filled with students. Tonight it's empty. A late autumn breeze carries a chill that is entirely unrelated to the approaching winter months. It's sharp in a foreboding sort of way, and I cast a glance over my shoulder as I pick up the pace. As far as I can tell, I'm alone. But the fog rolling off the nearby lake makes it impossible to separate the shadows from anything sinister.

Click, click, click.

Other than the sound of my heeled boots echoing across the flagstones, the world around me is silent. It's as if nature herself knows that danger hangs in the air. She's holding her breath, waiting.

Then, suddenly, a branch snaps.

I whip around and scan the tree line, but find nothing. My ears strain against the silent night, listening for any signs of company, but there's not even a rustling of leaves. Still... I can't help but feel like I'm being watched.

You're just imagining things, I tell myself. Keep walking.

So I readjust my backpack and continue down the street. Two blocks ahead, I can see my destination: Goalpost, a sports bar that I waitress at on the weekends. The floodlight above the door casts a pool of golden warmth on the sidewalk, and I hurry toward it, eager to escape the unknown of the dark.

When I arrive, the tension between my shoulder blades finally dissolves. Goalpost is usually packed with students on Friday nights, but today most of the tables are vacant. A small group of employees is gathered in front of the TV mounted on the wall, and I cross the room to join them.

"...most likely a caucasian male between the ages of twenty and thirty who either attends Edgewood State or teaches there," announces a woman wearing a blue and yellow FBI jacket.

A jolt of surprise shoots through my body. "They have a suspect?" I ask.

"No," says Mark. He's the manager of Goalpost... also, my ex boyfriend. "The police are giving a profile." He glances back at me and then does a double take. "Ellie, what in the world are you doing here?"

I shrug off my backpack and flash him a small smile. "It's pay day. I came to pick up my check."

"Did you walk here alone?" From the way he's scowling at me, he already knows the answer.

"Couldn't be helped," I tell him. "I had class in the engineering building until nine and the campus bus doesn't run this way."

His eyes go wide. "Jesus, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Don't worry. I carry pepper spray," I respond, patting my coat pocket.

Mark shakes his head at me in disbelief, like I've grown a pair of horns. "Next time you give me a call, okay? Doesn't matter where you are, I'll come pick you up."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll definitely take you up on that offer." I'm lying, but it's the only way to get Mark off my back. I understand why he's concerned—I fit the victim profile perfectly: blond hair, athletic, sorority girl. However, now that we're broken up, there's no way I'm accepting a ride from him. It would be too awkward.