Page 97 of Caged
“Don’t tell anyone. I was told I need to make sure Sigma is on its best behavior,” I lie, although it’s not entirely untrue. When you have a closed mixer between one fraternity and one sorority, typically, all members of said houses are invited. Never has a fraternity closed off a mixer to the sorority’s upperclassmen, but Sigma has gotten brazen with its predatory behavior. Clearly, they’ve lined the pockets of the university’s administration. I’ll go so far as to add local law enforcement to that list of beneficiaries. Hell, probably all law enforcement in general.
I fall somewhere in the middle of the queue of women entering Sigma. My heart pounds as I near the front door wheretwo bouncers stand, surveying the procession. I don’t recognize either of them, which gives me confidence. There is one person who would, without question, be able to pick me out of a crowd, disguised or not, and getting thrown on my ass in front of my entire sorority is not exactly my idea of a good time.
As I shuffle forward in the line, doing my best to act casual, I contemplate when exactly I lost my mind. I’m sneaking into my ex-boyfriend’s fraternity with a switchblade in my bra and a wig on my head. Honestly, who do I think I am? Fucking MacGyver? My mom has always told me I’m too bold for my own good, and tonight, she might just prove herself right as I willingly walk inside the belly of the beast.
I step into the foyer, and the line stops.
“Drink or go home,” the fraternity brother says to the woman in front of me. He hands her what looks like a shot of alcohol,but is it?Shit, I didn’t anticipate getting drugged tonight. The woman throws back the shot without question, and as I step forward, I am given the same treatment. Not wanting to draw attention to my face, I toss the liquor back without hesitation. The burn of room-temperature vodka slides down my throat, and I choke on a gag. At best, I have thirty minutes until whatever illicit substance I just ingested kicks in, because I’m no fool and that shot was not just vodka.
Music thumps loudly overhead as I prowl the perimeter of the living-room-turned-dance-floor. Men and women mingle, clustered together. Some glance in my direction, curious as to the identity of the loner girl clinging to the corners of the room. I pretend to look at the photos of each Sigma pledge class hanging on the walls, biding my time until I can slip away unnoticed.
I’ve made it to the current decade of pledge class photos and start to feel fuzzy. I need to make a break for the basement now before the full effect of whatever substance is coursing throughmy veins kicks in, and I end up being Sigma’s next sex cult recruit.
I do a quick scan of the room and still don’t see any Sigma brothers I recognize.
It’s now or never, Gabi.
Keeping up the charade, I meander around the room until I get to the hallway that leads to the first-floor bathrooms. Hopefully no one is the wiser as I slip around the corner, making a show of actually going inside the bathroom in case any eyes are watching.
I laugh aloud at my reflection, feeling more confident and cheerful than I should. I look fucking ridiculous, but in a funny way, and I wish my friends were here to laugh along with me at my absurdity.
Regrouping, I crack open the bathroom door and poke my head into the hall. No one on either side. I slither through the narrow opening and slink down the corridor toward the set of fire doors I know open into a stairwell. While there are other flights of stairs within Sigma, these stairs are the only set that dead-end at the basement. The metal bar clacks as I push into it with my body, even though I’m deliberatively moving at a snail’s pace to minimize the sound. Slipping through the other side, I hold the handle as the spring hinges pull the heavy door shut. The click of the latch is relatively soft, and I don’t hear any echo of voices or clamor of footsteps, so I assume I’m in the clear.
Quietly, I descend the stairs to the entrance of the basement. No lights guide my way other than the ambient light from the stairwell above, and it becomes darker and colder with each step. Shivering, I finally make it to the bottom and repeat the same set of precautions when opening the door, careful not to make a sound.
The door hisses to a close behind me as I step into total darkness. My skin crawls with an uncomfortable feeling asI stand frozen in the pitch-black basement beneath Sigma’s fraternity house. You would think I would still be able to hear the thump of music from upstairs, but my ears ring with eerie silence. When my mom and I helped Monroe clean out her recently deceased grandmother’s house during the summer between our freshman and sophomore years, I sensed an unnatural heaviness then, like our every move was being watched. I have that same paranormal feeling again, although this time, the sensation is overpowering, almost like someone, or something, is in the room with me.
The hairs on my arms stand straight up as I grasp for my sanity. I know the basement door is right behind me, but I feel untethered and out of control. My heart palpitates at a quickening pace as I start to convince myself that whatever spirit is lurking in this dungeon is inches from my face.
Remembering my phone, I fumble to find the zipper of my purse. My shaking hand makes searching in my bag near impossible. I can’t feel anything. My fingertips have gone numb with fear. Right when I decide to abort my mission, I make contact with my phone case, and the blue hue of the illuminated screen glows from inside my bag. I pull it out, my lifeline. The glow gives me enough courage to navigate to the flashlight feature, and I tap it on.
Light spears through the blackness. I point the flashlight at each wall and exhale a sigh of relief when I don’t see a demon in waiting.
But I do see three very large animal cages.
That’s fucking odd. I wasn’t aware Sigma had pets, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn they’re also harboring exotic animals. Shit. I didn’t contemplate the possibility that there might be a hungry snow leopard down here. Maybe that’s why it’s so fucking cold.
Cautiously, I pace the room. At what I presume is the front of the space sits a set of risers. This could be a stage? The elevated platform comes up to my knees, and my mind races through a host of scenarios.
I should take a video, I think, which is probably the only intelligent thought I’ve had so far. The entire point of my heist was to secure documentation, yet here I stand gawking at a makeshift stage, because I wonder if this is where fraternity members sit to get sucked and fucked by random women while everyone watches. My thoughts turn to the anonymous video I have on my phone of Jace in this exact same scenario; the video I should delete, but can’t bring myself to do so. Was this the very spot where it happened? Disgusted, I back away.
I point the camera and flashlight toward the front of the room behind the platform. What appears to be a large amount of furniture is piled high and covered with black cloth. I suppose since I’m down here, I should look underneath, but I’ll save that task for last.
I continue my circle of the room, disheartened by my underwhelming discoveries. As I approach the animal cages, something catches my eye. A patch of long, light-colored hair glows beneath my phone’s flashlight. Mesmerized, I reach out to touch the strands. Silky and fine, likehumanhair. Like… Monroe’s hair. Like… Kasey’s…
A large hand clamps down hard across my mouth, and I scream.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” a male’s voice snarls. My eyes flare in panic as I continue to scream against his palm, but his arm is wrapped around my torso, hauling me backward.
Wind knocks from my lungs when my back hits the wall, and in the same swift motion, my wig is pulled from my head.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Gabi? Why are you down here? How did you even get in?”
The skin of Jace’s hand smells salty and sour under my nose. My body shakes with adrenaline, but my mind is slow to catch up. I should feel terrified of Jace, but my brain is still stuck on the memory of him cheating, and I just feel so much fucking rage.
My phone flashlight creates a silhouette of his body, pressed firmly against mine, and I have no idea where I find the gall, but I roll my eyes and start laughing.
“Is this funny to you?” he spits, and I nod. I fucking nod, because yes, this is more than funny. This is ludicrous.
