Savage Truths and Serial Killers

I stared at my heavily pregnant former roommate. She and her husband were struggling to drag a massive suitcase out the front door.

Ten minutes ago, she was clutching her stomach on the street, begging me to take her home. I caught the tension in her jaw and the way her eyes kept darting around.

I stayed half a block back, tailing her to this isolated, rundown rental house. I dialed 911 on my phone, keeping my thumb pressed hard against the screen.

The second the sirens cut through the dead silence, her husband bolted. A muffled, desperate scream for help echoed from inside that heavy suitcase. Chapter 1 My name is Sloane.

Over the summer break, I picked up a parttime shift at a local grocery store to make some extra cash. On my way to work one morning, I found a little girl wandering by herself.

I wanted to drop her off at the police station, but I was already running late for my shift. I had no choice but to call 911 and let the cops handle it. "911?

I just snatched—I mean, found a kid. I don't have time, so make it quick. Get ahold of her parents ASAP." "If anything happens to her, I can't be held responsible.

I don't have the patience to sit around waiting forever. Just hurry up, you know the drill, I—" I held the little girl's hand with one hand and gripped my phone with the other.

Before I could finish my sentence, the screen went black. Uh… I stared at the dead screen, speechless.

Crap, I forgot to charge it last night! "Whatever, at least I got the call through.

Guess we're waiting here," I muttered to myself. "Hey kiddo, do you remember your mom or dad's phone number?" I crouched down, raising an eyebrow at the little girl whose face was flushed red from the cold.

Her bottom lip quivered, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Ah, hey, don't cry. It's fine, it's fine if you forgot. I already called the cops.

They'll help you find your parents." She sniffled and gave a small nod. To stop the tears, I took her over to a nearby food truck and bought a warm cheese hot dog.

The second the guy handed me the hot dog, ten cruisers with flashing red and blue lights swarmed us, surrounding the food truck.

The food truck guy froze, his eyes wide as he threw his hands up in the air.

I just stood there, holding out the hot dog toward the little girl's mouth. "What the hell?" My jaw dropped.

I stared at the fleet of cruisers and the two dozen heavily armed tactical officers pouring out of them. A young officer—Carter—marched straight toward me.

He glanced at the hot dog in my hand, then at the little girl standing next to me. A complicated look crossed his face. "Sloane, did you just call 911?" I nodded blankly. "Yeah.

I found a kid. Look, she's right here." My eyes lit up, and I gently pushed the girl forward. "Oh, right, that was me!

You guys are here to pick her up?" "Man, the crime rate in this city must be nonexistent. You dispatched ten cruisers for one lost kid?" Carter's mouth twitched.

He pressed the radio on his shoulder and spoke with a heavy sigh of disappointment. "SWAT, stand down. Target is secure." SWAT? For a lost kid?

I widened my eyes, immediately pulling out my phone.

I recorded a quick video and fired it off to my family group chat, then tossed it on my Instagram story. [ Mom, Dad, bro… I'm telling you, this is insane.

The police response in this city is so extra. I found a lost kid, called 911, and ten cruisers showed up! ] I expected my family to hype it up.

Instead, they spammed the chat with facepalm emojis. [ Sloane, what kind of crazy crap did you say on that phone call? ] My dad typed back furiously in the group chat.

If anyone knew my chaotic track record, it was him.

Chapter 2 When I was a kid, my mom asked me to pass a message to my dad. "Sweetie, tell Daddy that Mommy has to work late and won't be home for dinner." My translated version? "Dad, Mom is sneaking out to eat with that guy from her office and she's not coming back." That single sentence almost triggered a divorce.

When my parents finally confronted each other and cleared the air, I earned myself a monthlong grounding and a tagteam lecture of doom.

So today, when my dad saw the video I posted, his immediate reflex was that my mouth had triggered a national emergency. [ Dad, how could you even say that?

I literally did a good deed! When do I ever talk nonsense? ] I fired back a breathless, sixtysecond voice memo into the group chat, demanding justice for his blatant lack of trust.

A heavy, crackling sigh echoed through the phone speaker. "Nonsense? Use your brain for one second.

Does a normal 911 call summon a tencar motorcade?" "I've told you a million times—when you step out of this house, zip your lips." I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died in my throat.

He kind of had a point. Wait, why did they send so many cops? My dad and I weren't even beefing in DMs.

We were airing this out in the main family group chat, earning a relentless spam of skull emojis and laughing gifs from our relatives.

My family was well aware of the sheer destructive power of my vocal cords. After all, this wasn't my first rodeo.

My mouth has been a weapon of mass destruction for as long as I can remember. Take last Thanksgiving, for example.

My cousin—who was hopelessly addicted to swiping for true love on dating apps but had just been scammed out of her savings by her third consecutive boyfriend—was loudly bragging at the dinner table about her foolproof strategy to keep men hooked.

I stared at her with absolute sincerity. "Wow, you really know how men tick.

No wonder you're so experienced at paying off their credit card debt." I genuinely thought I was handing her a compliment. Instead, she snapped.

My parents immediately shot me a death glare. "Not another word," my mom hissed under her breath. But the damage was done.

My cousin sprang up from her chair, pointing a trembling finger at us, tears streaming down her face. "What is that supposed to mean?!

Everyone else drags me, and now my own family is doing it too?!" "Is it my fault I have a big heart? Yeah, I'm a joke, I deserve to be laughed at! Boohoo…" I sat there blinking.

My parents scrambled into full damage control. "We're so sorry!

She's just an idiot, she didn't mean to be sarcastic!" my dad pleaded. "Right, right, Sloane has no filter, don't take it to heart," my aunt chimed in, frantically trying to smooth things over.

What started as a festive holiday feast instantly devolved into a chaotic group therapy session. The trauma of that night was permanently burned into our family's collective memory.

Ever since then, before any family gathering, my parents would grab me by the shoulders and demand absolute radio silence.

They just never anticipated that I'd take my talents outside the house and weaponize them against the local police department. Chapter 3 Dad picked me up from the precinct.

On the drive home, he kept letting out these heavy sighs. "Dad, drop it, will you? Keep sighing like that and you'll blow away your good luck." "Just stop talking.

I need a minute of peace." "Fine, take your minute.

I'll just sit here and breathe." Dad caught my unbothered expression in the rearview mirror and ripped out another sigh. "With a mouth like yours, how do you survive around your classmates?" "What's wrong with my mouth?

I'm authentic. College kids appreciate honesty. People love my straightshooter personality." I saw nothing wrong with my social skills. My parents were just paranoid.

He rubbed his temples. "Whatever. Just go back to campus.

Looking at you gives me a migraine." "Go terrorize your professors and roommates instead." He waved me off, done with my existence.

Judging by his and my mom's exasperation, I halfsuspected I was adopted. Still, after two suffocating months at home, the fall semester started on schedule. New semester, new me.

I set a solid goal: act like a demure lady and stay out of drama. I was going to prove to my dad that I was a social butterfly. Naturally, I made my roommate cry on day one.

It started when Skylar pitched a roommate dinner. "I've got a discount code for that new seafood place near campus," Skylar announced. "Let's grab dinner.

We can save cash." Since we hadn't done a group dinner yet, we all agreed. The seafood joint was decent and reasonably priced. The four of us ate until we were stuffed.

I thought it was a flawless bonding experience, right up until the check dropped. "The bill plus tip comes out to a hundred and twenty bucks.

We divide by four, everyone Venmo me thirty dollars." Skylar finished her sentence, and I pulled out my phone to send the money.

Before I could hit send, my other roommate, Zara, slammed her hand over my screen. "Your math is garbage. A hundred and twenty is the original price.

You just used a fiftydollar firsttime user promo code. We only owe seventy total, which means we each owe you seventeenfifty." Wait, what? I stared at Skylar, my eyes wide.

Next to me, Zara let out a sharp laugh. "So let me get this straight.

You're using a promo code to scam us for cash?" Zara had a short fuse, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the table. I grabbed her arm before she could flip the table.

And Skylar actually doubled down. "But it was my promo code! If you guys went without me, you would have paid full price anyway.

Why shouldn't you pay your share of the original bill?" "Are you actually defending this? I've seen shameless, but you belong in a freak show…" Zara shouted.

I stepped in to calm her down. "Hey, chill out. It's just a few extra bucks.

Consider it a charity donation." "Skylar probably maxed out her credit cards and doesn't even have enough cash for a Starbucks latte, but she's too embarrassed to beg us for a loan." "She went through all this effort to hustle us for pocket change, so let's just pretend we're feeding a homeless person, okay?" Pulling a stunt like this over dinner was humiliating, but the fact that she said it with her chest?

That proved she was broke. No college girl would pull a desperate grift like this unless she had hit rock bottom. I sneered. Just give her the money. She's pathetic.

Chapter 4 My other roommate, Iris, just stared at me, her mouth slightly parted. As for Skylar? She lost her mind. "What the hell are you talking about?!

Who the fuck is pathetic…" Skylar ended up bawling her eyes out that day because of me. "Hahaha, Sloane, you have a gift.

Never stop talking," Zara cackled later, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "Why was she crying? Did I say something wrong again?

Everything I said made perfect sense," I said, looking between Zara and Iris in genuine confusion. "No, no, you were spot on," they both assured me immediately, waving off my concern. "So… how much are we actually sending her?" Iris asked, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.

The milliondollar question. "Seventeenfifty, obviously.

I pity her, but my wallet refuses to participate in her charity," I said, throwing my hands up in the air. "Fair enough." Zara and Iris took one look at my deadpan sincerity and cracked up all over again.

After that whole fiasco, Zara assumed Skylar would freeze us out. Who knew Skylar was so resilient?

A few days later, she was back to acting all buddybuddy with us, pretending like the entire humiliation never happened. "Seriously, I have never met anyone with skin that thick," Zara muttered, dragging her the second Skylar left the dorm. "Consider us lucky," Iris chimed in with a smirk. "I heard from Bailey down the hall that she has been borrowing cash from half the floor, but never more than fifty bucks a person." "Is she legally insane?

Begging for fifty bucks? Just how broke is she?" Zara rolled her eyes. "You are missing the point. It is a small amount, so most people feel too awkward to ask for it back.

She basically gets to keep it. She is actually playing the system," Iris pointed out.

The two of them were deep into their gossip when they finally realized I had not said a word. "Sloane, what are you doing?" Zara asked, her brow furrowing as she caught me shaking a plastic bottle. "My shampoo and body wash are empty again.

I literally bought new ones this month, and it is only the tenth. How is this possible?" I had just wet my hair, only to realize the bottles were bone dry.

I was going through toiletries at an impossible speed. It was ridiculous. Zara and Iris instantly walked over and gave the empty bottles a shake. "Holy crap, they really are empty.

I was literally with you when you bought them. Even if you were drinking the stuff, it would not go this fast," Zara said. "Right? And I try to be frugal!

That brand is expensive, and now it is gone again," I whined, clutching the empty bottle to my chest like it was a dying pet. "Wait a minute.

Now that you mention it, my shampoo and body wash disappeared super fast last month, too," Zara said, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. Iris nodded in agreement. "Yeah!

When I first moved in, my stuff vanished instantly. I went through two giant bottles of shampoo in a single month. Can you believe that?" The three of us locked eyes.

We all immediately thought of the exact same person. The leech living in our dorm, Skylar. "It has to be her. Who else?" Zara scoffed. "Are you kidding me?

Hustling for food is one thing, but stealing shampoo? We hit the jackpot getting stuck with her," Iris groaned. "Seriously?

It is not even that expensive," I muttered, shaking my head. "Is this her bottle? Smell it.

Does it smell like yours?" Zara grabbed the shampoo bottle with Skylar's name slapped on it and shoved it under my nose. I flipped the cap open and took a sniff.

The painfully familiar scent hit me, and my jaw instantly clenched.

Chapter 5 To make sure we weren't being paranoid, we squeezed some of the shampoo and body wash out of her bottles. Same color.

Same exact smell. "This is literally my shampoo and body wash," I said. "No wonder I'm running out so fast.

She's been pouring my stuff into her own bottles." I stared at the plastic bottle, my grip tightening.

But before I even had the chance to confront her, she found a brand new way to disgust me. Skylar waltzed back into the dorm from her date, humming a tune as she dropped her bag.

She immediately started flaunting her boyfriend, looking obnoxiously smug. "Honestly, you guys really need to get boyfriends in college. Take mine, for example.

He treats me like an absolute princess." "You have no idea how good he is to me.

He even took me out for Korean BBQ tonight," Skylar bragged, scrubbing a pair of socks in her laundry basin.

As if that wasn't enough, she decided to critique each of us. "Zara, you're way too aggressive. You really need to fix your temper." "Iris, you dress like a nun.

Guys aren't into that. Let me give you a makeover sometime." She turned to me. "Sloane, you dress way too much like an overgrown high schooler.

Men like women who are actually feminine. You need to learn how to take care of a man." "Like me, I wash his gym clothes and athletic socks every single weekend.

He literally can't live without me." "Tell you what, I'll let you wash a few of his dirty clothes to help you practice how to be a proper, sexy girlfriend." With three sentences, Skylar managed to insult all of us.

We stared at her in silence after her unhinged speech.

Before we could even process a comeback, this lunatic actually tossed her boyfriend's crusty socks straight into my laundry basket. "It's settled then.

Sloane, you can wash his clothes today. Consider it a free trial on the joys of being a girlfriend." Skylar smiled brightly, raising an eyebrow at me. Zara and Iris were stunned.

They didn't expect her to actually throw the dirty laundry at me. "Sloane, are you okay?" Zara nudged my shoulder, probably thinking my brain had shortcircuited. "Why are you looking at me like that?

I'm doing you a favor," Skylar said, her chin tilted up. "If it wasn't for me, you'd never touch a man's clothes in your entire life." That Korean BBQ must have clogged the last functioning artery to her brain, because her delusion was reaching terminal levels. "This is the first time in my life I've heard someone describe doing laundry as a blessing," Iris said, her mouth twitching. "Incredible.

You are the ultimate pickme," Zara sneered. Then she noticed me walking silently toward the door. "Sloane, where are you going?" They probably thought I was storming out in a rage.

They didn't expect me to kick the door open thirty minutes later, hauling a massive trash bag full of rank, unwashed laundry. I dumped the entire pile straight onto Skylar's bed.

She let out a piercing shriek, jumping backward. "Whose clothes are these?! They reek! Sloane, what is wrong with you?

Why the hell would you throw these on my bed?!" I smiled sweetly. "Oh, you love washing clothes so much, right?

I took a trip down to your boyfriend's frat house and collected his entire dirty hamper just for you." "No need to thank me.

I even hyped you up to him!" Skylar sprang up like she had been electrocuted. "You hyped up my boyfriend? You shameless bitch! My boyfriend doesn't need anything from you!

Are you trying to steal him?" "I knew you were jealous of me! I'm going to rip your hair out!" Skylar lunged at me, her hands curled into claws.

Zara and Iris snapped out of their daze and rushed forward to intercept her. Chapter 6 Just then, Skylar's phone buzzed. It was her boyfriend, Tucker. "Babe! What?

No, I never said that! How could I say you don't smell manly?" She clutched the phone, her voice dropping into a desperate whine. "I didn't tell her to get your laundry!

Other guys' clothes just stink, but yours smell so good… No, babe, listen to me, you're the most masculine guy I know!

I'll bring the bag right back." "I don't care who washes them… Babe, just let me explain—" The line went dead. Skylar stomped her foot against the floorboards.

She whipped her head around, glaring at me. "You bitch. What exactly did you say to my boyfriend?" I blinked in pure innocence. "Just hyped him up.

Nothing much." "Who asked you to do that?!

You just wait, I'm going to deal with you when I get back." Skylar shoved the pile of reeking clothes back into the trash bag and stormed out of the room.

The second the door clicked shut, I grabbed the bottles of shampoo and body wash, marched into the bathroom, and dumped the entire contents straight down the toilet. "Sloane, it is so nice to finally see you show your claws.

I honestly thought you only used your mouth to piss people off," Zara said, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "Nobody leeches off me and gets away with it," I snapped, rolling my eyes.

I might be a little oblivious sometimes, but I wasn't stupid. Skylar didn't drag herself back to the dorm until almost eleven that night. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

She slammed her drawers and tossed her shoes around, but none of us gave her a single ounce of attention.

Looking pale and furious, she stomped into the bathroom to shower—only to find her body wash empty. "Which one of you lowlifes used up all my body wash?!" she yelled, shaking the empty plastic bottle as she stepped out of the bathroom, her face twisted.

I tilted my head, looking at her dead in the eye. "Are you entirely sure that's your body wash?" Skylar choked on her words. Her face flushed as the realization hit her.

She spun around and slammed the bathroom door so hard the walls shook. The second the door shut, the three of us burst into a fit of muffled, hysterical laughter.

For our 8 AM class the next morning, Skylar shot us a death glare before leaving to walk with the girls from the dorm next door.

Whenever she walked past us on campus, she would deliberately tilt her chin to the sky, wearing an exaggerated look of absolute disdain.

After that, every single time we crossed paths, I got a frontrow view of her nostrils. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

While she was surrounded by her brandnew friend group, I called her out loud and clear. "You really need to stop tilting your chin up like that.

The nose hair sticking out of your nostrils is about to poke a hole in the ceiling.

It's actually disgusting." "You… Sloane, you just wait!" Skylar stammered, her face turning the color of a boiled lobster before she stomped her foot and practically sprinted away in humiliation.

Zara and Iris lost it, clutching their stomachs as they laughed. "Oh my god, you are a savage." "I'm literally just stating facts," I said, throwing my hands up.

I swear on my life, I wasn't even being petty. It was a genuine public service announcement. But clearly, Skylar didn't see it that way.

In an act of unhinged revenge, she actually stole my underwear. "Sloane, what are you looking for?" Zara asked, raising an eyebrow as she watched me frantically search the balcony. "My Victoria's Secret lace thong is gone," I whispered, my knuckles white against the balcony railing. "What?

How does that even happen? Do you think the wind blew it off the drying rack?" Zara asked, stepping out onto the balcony to help me look. "No way. It's hot pink.

If it fell into the courtyard, it would be blindingly obvious," I said, pacing the small space.

Just the thought of my bright pink thong floating down onto the campus quad for some random frat bro to find made my scalp tingle with absolute dread.

Chapter 7 Zara clearly pictured the same disastrous scenario. She let out a snort of laughter. "It's fine. Nobody knows it belongs to you.

Just take it to your grave." "That is literally the worst comfort I've ever received in my life," I said, shooting her a deadpan glare. "Hey, I'm just saying," Zara shrugged. "I actually lost a pair of mine a few days ago, too." "Probably blew off the rack.

But you will never hear me admit it." We exchanged a knowing smirk. Assuming the wind had just claimed our laundry, we brushed it off.

A few days later after class, Bianca from the dorm next door rushed over, practically vibrating with scandalous gossip. "Oh my god, do you guys know?

Skylar's boyfriend was caught jerking off in his frat house with a pair of unwashed pink lace panties." "His roommate busted him redhanded and totally thought he was a freak.

Turns out, Skylar actually gave them to him as some weird kink collection!" My jaw dropped. That information felt like a physical blow to the stomach.

Goosebumps erupted across my arms. I had never in my life heard of someone handing out their used underwear as a collector's item—especially someone who slept five feet away from me