Five Dead Girls in Room 306

I spent the entire night sleeping in the exact same dorm room as five dead girls. Every single one of them had been poisoned.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the precinct interrogation room burn my retinas. The detective's words drop like an anvil, punching the air straight out of my lungs.

Bile rises in my throat. I grip the edges of the metal chair until my knuckles turn a stark white. I had quietly slipped out the door at 5:00 AM just like any other day.

I had no idea that the vicious roommates who made my life a living hell were already cold, stiff corpses just feet away from my bed.

Now, the heavy silence in the room is suffocating. Every cop here is staring me down, their eyes burning into my skin. They’ve already made up their minds.

To them, I am the twisted psycho who poisoned the girls who tortured me. I shake my head, the metal chair digging into my spine.

I open my mouth to defend myself, trying to force the words past the tight knot in my throat, but a sudden memory paralyzes my vocal cords.

Just before lights out last night, Sutton—the wealthy, entitled ringleader of my daily torment—had turned to me. Her final words echo in my skull.

Chapter 1 The cops cornered me right as I pushed through the double doors of the cafeteria.

Campus security and two uniformed officers blocked my path in the middle of the crowded hallway. The weight of a hundred stares immediately stabbed into my back. "Rue?

Room 306?" the male officer asked. I gave a stiff nod. "Come with us." "What's going on?" I asked. "You don't know?" What the hell was I supposed to know?

They marched me into an empty classroom. It wasn't until the heavy wooden door clicked shut that they dropped the bomb. All five of my roommates had died last night.

The air hitched in my throat. I had slept in the exact same room as five rotting corpses until dawn.

My skin crawled at the thought. "You seriously had no clue?" the male officer pressed. "Not until you opened your mouth." He leaned his weight onto the desk, invading my space. "You don't seem very scared." My hands trembled in my lap, but the shock acted like a thick layer of novocaine.

It was too surreal to process. "Did you hear anything unusual last night?" he asked. "No." "What about this morning? Nothing off?" "Nothing.

They were still asleep when I got up." I swallowed hard, the dryness scratching my throat. "Or, I guess, I thought they were asleep." "What time did you wake up?" "Five.

I wake up at five every day." "Why so early?" "Force of habit." The cop narrowed his eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He wasn't buying a word of it.

But I really hadn't noticed anything. I was always the first one up. I didn't have the luxury of sleeping in.

If I lost my fullride scholarship, I’d be instantly kicked out of this outrageously expensive private university and tossed right back into the hopeless, crimeridden slums I clawed my way out of.

For three years, I had survived on terrible coffee, latenight shifts, and a ruthless GPA grind. Just one more year.

One more year, and I could graduate, snag a real job offer, and escape that hellhole for good. "You get up at five, and nobody reacts?" The officer crossed his arms. "Doesn't that strike you as odd?" "That's how it is every single day." Freshman year, my alarm went off once and they practically ripped my head off.

After that, I set my phone to vibrate and shoved it deep under my mattress pad. I could feel it, but it wouldn't make a sound. The second it buzzed, I killed it.

To avoid setting them off, I moved like a ghost, washed up in the communal bathroom down the hall, and vanished.

I could be out of that dorm by 5:05 AM flat. "Every day?" The cop challenged. "You moving around has to wake someone." "It doesn't.

I'm quiet." "Even if you are, there has to be some reaction." "There wasn't." "Always been like that?" "Yeah." His jaw tightened.

The suspicion rolling off him was thick enough to choke on. "Can I ask…" I hesitated, wetting my cracked lips. "How did they die?" It finally clicked to ask.

The math wasn't adding up in my head, either. Why were they all dead, but I was sitting here breathing? The cops were definitely wondering the exact same thing.

The two officers exchanged a loaded look. "They skipped all their morning classes," the woman finally chimed in, her voice sharp. "And you didn't think that was a problem?" Oh, they definitely thought I did it. "I didn't notice." It was the absolute truth.

I couldn't care less if they showed up to class or dropped off the face of the earth. My relationship with those five girls wasn't just bad. We were at war.

Chapter 2 Skipping class in college is standard. It wasn't exactly their first time, either.

The only weird part was that all five of them had never ghosted class at the exact same time.

But I didn't care about other people's business, let alone those five. "You live in the exact same dorm. None of them showed up, and you didn't notice?" "I really didn't notice.

I…" How was I supposed to phrase this? Tell the cops I despised them? It was painfully obvious I was their prime suspect now. But I didn't do it.

I had nothing to hide. "We aren't close. I don't keep tabs on them." The officer's eyes flicked to mine. "Not close? Define 'not close'." I kept my mouth shut for a second.

How could I even describe it? There were six girls in our suite. But honestly, it was more like five girls… and me. I was basically a ghost. A total loner.

I only used the dorm to sleep. Part of it was my obsession with studying, but the main reason was simpler: they hated me. Because I was dirt poor, but I wrecked the grading curve.

Sutton hated me the most. We were polar opposites. She was gorgeous, built like a model, and came from stupid, filthy money. Guys lined up for her. Her grades were garbage, though.

Eventually, she hooked up with Hayes, the hottest guy in our year. None of that was my business. We existed in different universes.

While they debated which trustfund baby's yacht party to hit on the weekend, or flaunted their limitededition Chanel bags, I was calculating if I could snag a discounted cold sandwich right before the convenience store closed, just to save a few bucks.

But Sutton despised me from day one. The minute I walked past her into the dorm on movein day, she pinched her perfect nose. "God, what is that stench?" Her icy gaze snapped to me.

I had dragged two beatup suitcases thrifted from a flea market, transferring between three different Greyhound buses just to get to this campus crawling with luxury cars.

Sweat clung to my cheap tshirt. I knew exactly who she was talking about.

I silently shoved my bags onto my bare mattress, grabbed a cheap plastic washbasin, and headed down the hall to scrub myself off in the communal stalls.

When I pushed the dorm door back open, Sutton was holding court.

The other girls were already falling all over themselves, worshipping her designer clothes, her flawless skin, her perfect body.

The second I stepped inside, Sutton sneered. "Just my luck. I get stuck rooming with trash." First impressions are everything, and mine was a disaster.

I figured keeping my distance would be enough. I just wanted to survive these four years and get my degree. But I was incredibly naive.

At first, they just trashed me behind my back. Eventually, they stopped hiding it.

They straightup recorded videos of my wornout clothes right in front of my face, posting them on social media for their followers to laugh at.

I never gave them the satisfaction of a reaction. To dodge their constant bullying, I stayed out until the absolute last second before lights out. They still wouldn't let it go.

They dumped trash under my sheets. Soaked my blankets with ice water. They even stuffed used tampons into my only pair of sneakers. I swallowed it all.

It wasn't that my blood didn't boil, but I simply didn't have the energy to fight a war I couldn't win.

More importantly, I couldn't afford a single black mark on my record that might jeopardize my scholarship.

I clung to the belief that if I just kept my head down, the storm would eventually pass.

Chapter 3 Later, I'd constantly find my cheap clothes in the closet drenched in pungent nail polish and nauseating garbage water.

Once, I even found sewing pins shoved deep into my only bath towel. Good thing I barely owned anything, leaving them with limited material to ruin.

I knew if I fought back, Sutton would just snap her fingers, use her family's connections, and have the board of trustees instantly revoke my degree.

So, I swallowed every ounce of my hatred and grinded my GPA like a maniac. I stayed hypervigilant, keeping my head down. I survived these past three years by the skin of my teeth.

Just one more year of this hell. Once I grabbed my degree and that offer letter from a toptier firm, I was going to leave and grind those fake bitches directly under my heel.

But I never expected them to just… die. How did it happen? Why was I untouched?

What the hell went down in that room last night? "I asked you a question." The male cop's voice snapped like a whip, pulling me back to the interrogation room. "How did they die?" I repeated. "We're the ones asking the questions here!" He slammed his palm flat against the metal table.

The hostility rolling off him confirmed it. I was target number one. The math was damning. Six girls in a dorm. Five dead. One untouched.

I claimed I heard nothing, saw nothing, and went about my morning. Even I had to admit I looked guilty as hell.

Add in three years of relentless bullying, and they had my motive wrapped in a neat little bow. Motive. Opportunity. I ticked all their boxes.

All they lacked was the physical proof. But they didn't have it, or I'd be in cuffs instead of a plastic chair. And they never would find it, either. Because my hands were clean.

I had nothing to hide, but volunteering extra information to cops looking for a scapegoat was a straightup death sentence. "I barely interacted with them," I stated smoothly. "You shared a room." "Yeah.

But I left at dawn and didn't step foot back inside until right before lights out." "Why?" "To study.

So I can keep my scholarship and actually graduate." "Did you have a problem with them?" "No." "For someone whose roommates just dropped dead, you're awfully calm." The words 'you killed them' practically flashed in neon letters across his forehead.

I held his gaze without blinking. Hearing they were gone felt exactly like reading a crime headline about complete strangers.

After what they put me through, why would I waste a single shred of empathy on them?

I wasn't popping champagne over five bodies, but I definitely wasn't losing sleep over them, either. I tilted my head, meeting his glare. "What exactly do you want from me?

Should I burst into tears? Fake a panic attack? Or maybe just pass out on the floor?" Right as the words left my mouth, the door clicked open. A man stepped inside.

He didn't look much older, but the air in the room instantly shifted. The male cop immediately straightened up. "Captain Victor." Victor muttered something low.

The cop nodded, shot me one last warning glare, and walked out, leaving Victor and the female officer behind.

Victor pulled out the metal chair and sat down directly across from me. "Rue, right?" I nodded. "Take a breath. You're doing fine," he said, his tone deceptively gentle.

I almost laughed. A pathetic attempt at playing good cop. Then, the mask of sympathy vanished, replaced by cold, hard steel. He leaned in. "Cut the crap.

Tell me exactly how you killed them." A classic bluff. But Victor's presence was heavy, suffocating the room.

He stared me down with absolute certainty, playing it like he already had the murder weapon sitting in an evidence locker.

If I actually had blood on my hands, the sheer pressure of his gaze would have cracked me. Too bad for him, my hands were spotless.

Chapter 4 "You've already made up your mind that I'm the killer, haven't you, Captain?" "Got a better theory?" "Where's your proof?" "You're aware there are security cameras in your hallway, right?" He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "We pulled the footage.

From yesterday afternoon to this morning, not a single outsider stepped foot inside your room.

So, if not you, then who?" "Yeah, who else but me?" A dry, humorless laugh scraped past my lips. "Trust me, I’d love to know how they died, too." His eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the metal table, matching his energy. "Officer, why don't you enlighten me?

Tell me how a girl who works herself to the bone just to survive is supposed to singlehandedly slaughter five wellfed, entitled rich girls barehanded.

And do it without letting a single one of them scream for help?" The question hung in the air. Victor didn't blink.

He just stared at me in dead silence for ten agonizing seconds. "You've got ice in your veins, kid," he finally muttered.

I couldn't tell if it was a compliment or an insult. "What time did you get back to your dorm last night?" "Didn't you just say you watched the footage?" He gave a slow, conceding nod. "Walk me through exactly what happened the second you walked through that door.

Leave nothing out." "When I got back, they were already in bed.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and went to sleep." "In bed?" He raised an eyebrow. "Were they sleeping, or were they already dead?" A chill prickled the back of my neck.

Thinking back, the room had been unnervingly quiet. "I… I don't know," I admitted, rubbing my thumb against my index finger. "Wait. No. Sutton was awake.

She spoke to me." "What did she say?" "She told me to take out the trash on my way out this morning." "Why would she ask you to do that?" "How am I supposed to know?" Honestly, it had tripped me up, too.

Sutton wouldn't spit on me if I were on fire, so why suddenly assign me a chore? But I just wanted to get to sleep, and grabbing a bag on my way out cost me zero effort.

I scoffed. "Garbage, Officer. I don't exactly have a fetish for digging through other people's trash." It was an absurd question.

Did I look like a raccoon to him? "All I know is there were a ton of glass bottles inside." When I lugged the black plastic bag downstairs this morning, it had clinked and rattled with every step.

I figured I could at least throw him that bone. "Bottles?" Victor rubbed his jaw.

I could practically see the gears grinding in his head, trying to connect the glass to the bodies. "Where exactly did you dump it?" "The dumpsters right outside the dorms.

Sanitation picks it up at 7:00 AM sharp every day." "Seven?" A muscle ticked in Victor's jaw. The bag was long gone, buried in some city landfill by now.

He was probably calculating the sheer logistical nightmare of sending a dozen rookies to go dumpster diving for a lead that might be a complete dead end.

He abruptly stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the linoleum. "We're taking you down to the precinct." "What? Why?" Panic spiked in my chest, hot and fast.

If I got dragged downtown, I was going to miss my afternoon labs. I had to maintain my GPA.

If I lost that fullride scholarship, my senior year was completely dead in the water. "For further questioning," he stated flatly.

I dug my heels into the floor. "I can't go with you." "That's not a request." Victor’s voice dropped an octave, dripping with the absolute authority he saved for convicted felons. "I am not going anywhere!" I shoved back from the table. "I didn't kill them!

You have zero proof! You can't just frame me because it's convenient! I have to study!" I shouted until my throat burned, but my words just bounced off the cinderblock walls.

Chapter 5 They dragged me down to the precinct anyway.

Realizing fighting back was a dead end, I met Victor's stare and asked for one last thing: "Officer, I have a final paper due tonight that decides whether I keep my fullride scholarship.

Can you please have campus security bring my laptop?" "A dedicated student, huh?" Victor smirked. "Relax. If you're really clean, you'll be back on campus before it even matters.

You won't miss a thing." They threw me into a tiny holding room. It had a long, hard metal bench bolted to the wall—good for sitting, barely wide enough to lie down.

Victor didn't say another word, but right before the heavy door clicked shut, he shot me one last look. I read that look loud and clear: You're never going back.

I dropped onto the freezing metal bench, wrapping my arms around myself. What the hell was I supposed to do now? The fear gnawing at my stomach wasn't about murder charges.

It was about my scholarship. I desperately needed that money. If this dragged on and I lost my funding, my life was officially over.

But as long as I proved my innocence, they couldn't take it away from me. I couldn't just sit here rotting. I had to take control and clear my name before it was too late.

How was I supposed to prove I didn't kill them? I closed my eyes, forcing myself to meticulously replay every single second of last night. I left the library at exactly 10:40 PM.

I keyed into the dorm at 10:50 PM, beating the 11:00 PM lightsout curfew by ten minutes. When I walked in, the room was dead silent.

Which was incredibly weird, now that I thought about it. They never went to bed that early.

Usually, even after lights out, they’d gossip and blast music for hours, which was why the second my head hit the pillow, I would shove my earbuds in and loop English audiobooks.

But I hadn't cared about the silence. Their business wasn't my business. The second I grabbed my washbasin to head to the communal showers, Sutton's voice cut through the dark.

She told me to take out the trash in the morning. I just grunted an "okay" and bolted. I had exactly five minutes to scrub down and get under my covers before the circuits flipped.

When I came back from the bathroom, the room was still dead quiet. Sutton didn't say another word.

I climbed into bed, jammed my earbuds in, and listened to my English audio for about thirty minutes before I finally crashed. The next morning, I grabbed the trash bag and left.

Besides them going to bed freakishly early, nothing was out of the ordinary. So when did they die? And how? A sudden, freezing thought hijacked my brain.

Could they have already been… dead… when I walked in? But Sutton spoke to me. Her voice sounded completely normal.

She was asking me for a favor, but it still dripped with her usual obnoxious entitlement. Sutton used to be the ringleader of my absolute misery.

She practically considered me a different species. But a few months ago, a switch flipped. Her attitude towards me shifted.

And at the exact same time, her relationship with Brooke and Lexi shattered. Those three used to be joined at the hip.

They did everything together, like some terrifying threeheaded monster. But around that time, even a ghost like me could feel the toxic radiation pouring off them.

Something massive had ruptured their little clique. I obviously had zero connection to Sutton. We existed on different planes of reality.

But once she stopped actively targeting me, life got instantly easier. Occasionally, if we crossed paths on campus, she'd even throw a casual greeting my way.

I never dug into why she suddenly stopped being a nightmare. I just took the win. If she said hi, I'd give a tight nod back, and that was the absolute extent of it.

Chapter 6 But just last month, on a random weekend, Sutton suddenly dragged me out. It was a Saturday.

The rest of the suite had driven back to their suburban mansions, leaving me alone in the dorm to study.

I was the only outofstate student, the only one who didn't belong—which was probably another reason Sutton despised my existence. Around dusk, the dorm door clicked open.

She was back. "Rue, you busy?" she asked. I lifted my head from my textbook, narrowing my eyes.

What game was she playing now? "Rue," she stared at me with bloodshot eyes, her tone dripping with that familiar, undeniable arrogance, "come get a drink with me. I'm paying.

It's not like you can even afford a cup of coffee on your own anyway, right?" I had zero intention of going. The idea of playing therapist to my bully was a complete joke.

I opened my mouth to shoot her down, but she marched forward, snatched the textbook right out of my hands, and tossed it onto my mattress. "Let's go.

I need to talk." I let her drag me out the door. If she was paying, I could skip spending money on dinner. Plus, provoking her into another war wasn't worth the hit to my GPA.

She hauled me to a highend bistro just off campus and ordered plates of food I could never justify buying.

Then, she flagged down the waiter for two bottles of imported beer. "You drinking?" she asked. I gave a flat shake of my head.

She poured a glass, downed it in three aggressive gulps, and immediately refilled it. I just sat there, my hands folded in my lap, watching her. We had nothing to say to each other.

Sutton slammed the second glass back just as fast. "You know, Rue," she slurred slightly, wiping her mouth. "I really fucking hate you." "I know." The whole damn campus knew. "You want to know why I hate you?" I kept my expression deadpan.

Hate was hate; I didn't need a psychological breakdown of it. When I didn't take the bait, she answered her own question. "Because you remind me of myself." My brow furrowed.

That made zero sense. Sutton tipped the bottle, filling her glass a third time. This round, she only took a sip, a bitter smirk twisting her lips.

She didn't touch a single bite of the food, which meant I wasn't going to reach for a fork, either. "You probably think I'm insane, right? Hell, I don't even get it myself.

Never in a million years did I think I'd be sitting across a table from you." She threw the rest of the drink down her throat. The silence stretched so thin it was about to snap.

I figured I had to say something. "Pace yourself." "I'm fine. My tolerance is elite," she snapped, already pouring her fourth glass. I clamped my mouth shut.

She lifted the glass halfway to her mouth, stopped, and just shattered. Tears spilled over her perfect eyelashes, ruining her expensive makeup.

I had no idea why she was breaking down, and I had zero interest in comforting her. Her drama wasn't my problem.

But the staring from the other tables was getting intense, so I grabbed a couple of cheap napkins and slid them across the table.

She snatched the napkins, crushing them in her manicured fist. "Rue… Hayes and I broke up." Sutton and Hayes breaking up wasn't exactly headline news.

Campus romances were built on cheap liquor and validation; they never lasted. But a cold knot formed in my stomach. Was she dragging me out here to pin this on me again?

She had already pulled that stunt once. Sophomore year, I got elected as the academic rep, and Hayes was the class president.

Crossing paths for student council stuff was unavoidable. But Sutton convinced herself I was trying to hook up with him.

She had cornered me, jabbing a finger into my chest, spitting pure venom: "Look at you. You look like trash and you smell like a thrift store.

You seriously think you have a shot with Hayes? Listen to me, you pathetic charity case—if you ever speak to him again, I'll destroy you.

I don't want him catching whatever poverty disease you're carrying." I didn't waste my breath defending myself.

Only idiots exhaust themselves trying to prove their innocence over madeup garbage. But after that day, I never said a single word to Hayes again.

Any student council business went strictly through a third party. I didn't have a single second to spare for their pathetic, toxic reality show.

Chapter 7 Sutton easily read my mind. "Relax. It's not because of you." The tension drained from my shoulders.

At least she wasn't going to stage a screaming match right here in the restaurant. "Don't you want to know why?" she asked. I shook my head.

I couldn't care less about either of them, and I definitely didn't care about their relationship drama. My brain was already scanning for an exit strategy.

It was obvious I wasn't going to get a single bite of this expensive food anyway. "That's exactly what I hate about you," she sneered. "You act like you don't care about anything.

The sky could literally fall and you'd just sit there. You're so incredibly fake." Sutton grabbed her glass and downed it. Only a quarter of the second bottle remained.

Her eyes were definitely glassy now. It was time to pull the plug. "You're drunk.

Let's head back." I wanted to tell her I was leaving, but ditching her here hammered felt like a liability I couldn't afford.

Sutton waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not done talking." I clamped my jaw and stayed glued to the seat. "Rue, I really want to ask you something." "Shoot." "We put you through absolute hell, and you just… took it.

Like it was nothing. Why?" The sheer audacity of the question made my eye twitch. She didn't sound guilty at all—she sounded pissed.

Like my lack of a mental breakdown was a personal insult to her efforts. "There's no 'why.' You're drunk." I owed her exactly zero explanations. "No, I'm not. Tell me.

Why?" "If I tell you, we leave.

Deal?" "Deal." I stared at the table, running the words over my tongue. "Spill," she demanded. "Because I don't have the time or the energy to care." "Bullshit.

You're just putting on an act." "It's the truth." "Drop the act, you selfrighteous, broke bitch!

You're probably losing your goddamn mind with jealousy!" Her voice cracked like a whip across the table. But I didn't even flinch.

It wasn't the first time she had screamed in my face. "Can we go now?" I asked, keeping my voice dead flat.

She grabbed the nearly empty bottle, sloshed it around, then whipped her head toward the bar. "Hey!

Bring me two more… No, make it five!" "Cut it out." I reached across the table to snatch the bottle, but she yanked it behind her back. "Get your hands off me!

Who the hell do you think you are? You don't get to tell me what to do!" I pushed my chair back and stood up. "Fine. Drink yourself to death.

I'm leaving." "Don't." Her hostility vanished instantly, replaced by a pathetic, desperate stare. "Don't go. Please." She was completely wasted.

Right on cue, the waiter showed up carrying five fresh bottles. "Sorry, we're canceling the order," I told him quickly.

If she drank any more, I'd have to carry her dead weight back to campus. "No, leave them!" she snapped. "I said take them back." "Don't you dare!" The waiter stared at us like we were insane. "Do you want them or not?" "Rue, just let me drink." Sutton's voice cracked. "You don't get it.

It hurts so much." Tears started streaming down her face again. I let out a sharp exhale.

Against my better judgment, I compromised and told the waiter to just leave one. "Stop crying. Everyone's staring at you.

It's embarrassing." Honestly, the whole display was pathetic. It was just a stupid college breakup.

Acting like her life was over was a luxury only bored, overprivileged brats could afford. And here I was, stomach growling, trapped as a hostage to her drunken meltdown.

Chapter 8 Sutton topped off her glass and downed half of it in loud, heavy swallows. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and suddenly shot me a sloppy, glazed grin.

My jaw tightened. Why the hell was I wasting my Saturday babysitting a drunk? "Are you done yet? Can we leave?" "Rue, stop being such an ice queen." Unbelievable.

She got a free pass to scream in my face, and I was supposed to serve her a warm smile? "You broke up. So what? Find a rebound.

The line of guys waiting to date you practically wraps around the campus." I highly doubted her feelings for Hayes went any deeper than a puddle. "No. It's over.

I have absolutely nothing left." She shook her head heavily. "You don't get it." "Fine.

I don't get it, and I don't have the bandwidth to try." I snatched the bottle and dumped the rest into her glass.

Judging by her death grip on the table, she wasn't leaving until the alcohol was gone.

I just wanted to speedrun this nightmare. "Always 'no time'!" she mocked, her voice rising. "I don't understand you!

Why do you make yourself so damn miserable all the time?" "Because I'm broke!" I snapped back. Sutton stared at me. I knew the words wouldn't register.

A trustfund baby like her could never comprehend that a kid from the slums had to bleed just to survive.

And I wasn't just surviving; I was fighting to drag myself out of the gutter permanently. The silence stretched. Finally, she blinked. "Rue, doesn't it make you feel… inferior?

Being so poor?" A sharp, humorless laugh almost ripped from my throat. Who the hell had the luxury of wallowing in selfpity?

I’d rather spend that energy memorizing flashcards. "No." My patience flatlined. "Then do you ever resent your fate?" she asked, her glassy eyes dead serious.

The sheer, agonizing boredom of the rich was suffocating. This was what happened when you never had to worry about your next meal—you hallucinated existential crises.

I wasn't entertaining this garbage anymore. I shoved my chair back and stood up. "Are you coming? Because I'm leaving.

I'm done wasting my night on this." Sutton instantly latched onto my wrist, her fingernails digging into my skin. "Just answer me!

Tell me the truth, and I'll leave with you." I tried to yank my arm away, but her grip was like a vice. I dropped back into the chair. "I answer, and we walk out that door.

Deal?" She nodded frantically. A flash of vulnerability crossed her eyes. It was the alcohol talking.

By tomorrow morning, this entire conversation would be blacked out of her memory. "Listen, princess. You don't whine about the hand you're dealt.

You play the cards and flip the damn table." I threw out the cheesiest motivational quote I could scrape from the back of my mind.

Instantly, she buried her face in her hands and started sobbing hysterically. I sat there, paralyzed by the sheer, agonizing cringe of it all.

Thankfully, the breakdown drained the fight out of her.

She stumbled back to the dorm without complaining, alternating between hiccuping sobs and weird, breathy giggles the entire walk.

The second we hit the room, I shoved her onto her mattress. My charity work for the year was officially over. I was going straight to the library.

As I turned toward the door, Sutton’s slurred voice drifted from the pillows. "Rue… I have a massive secret. You wanna hear it?" "Nope." I shut her down instantly.

Before she could launch into another drunken tangent, I shoved my textbooks into my backpack with brutal efficiency and bolted out the door