Page 118 of Caged
An email went out late yesterday to sorority presidents and social chairs. Since I’m technically still president of Delta Gamma through the end of the semester, I’ve not yet been removed from the email lists. Actually, I’d wager it has nothingto do with technicalities and everything to do with sheer laziness. Sigma announced they would be throwing a theme party on Saturday night, but only freshmen and sophomores were invited. God, Kieren is so fucking predictable. I bet he’s sitting in his room right now waiting for me.
I flip down the sun visor to take one last look at my deranged, fallen superhero makeup. Both of us wear red lipstick that is smeared and chaotic, with excessive eyeliner that somewhat masks our identities, should we find ourselves in a situation where we need to remove our Purge masks. Neither of us had any costume apparel appropriate for the theme, but black spandex shorts and nondescript black tank tops will work just fine. All one needs to do is make sure your cleavage is on full display, and men forget to look at your face.
We do, however, have on these fun black leather thigh holsters for our weapons. They look more decorative than tactical, and when worn high up on the thigh, it draws attention to that coveted space between our legs. Men love the fantasy of fucking a kinky dominatrix, and we love a man who’s distracted.
The only questionable props are our axes, but we need them to smash in the fire alarm. If I manage to get inside Kieren’s bedroom, I can also use the axe to chop open his desk, or chop off his dick, whatever I need to do really to get the job done.
“Get in, get the ring, get out,” Gabi repeats as we begin the trek across Sigma’s front lawn. The hulking stone structure thumps with music and flashing colorful strobe lights. We step into the orb of one of the large LED spotlights beaming a massive circle of white against the grey stone structure.
“Look at us,” I smile, pointing down to the silhouette in the grass of our axe-wielding selves.
“We look like bad asses,” Gabi notes.
“Wearebad asses,” I correct her. “Listen, whatever happens in there,” I begin.
“Don’t say it,” Gabi interjects, cutting me off. “We’re here for one job, and one job only. Now let’s make these motherfuckers pay.”
“Pull down the masks,” I instruct. “Trust me.”
There’s no time to disagree. We’re at the entrance. I swallow the fear eating away at my confidence and hold my head high as I saunter up the front steps, past the waiting line.
“Stop,” one of the guards at the door bellows, stepping into my path.
“Don’t you know who we are?” I ask snidely, lifting up my mask to give him a disgusted look. Confusion passes over his face, and I can smell his uncertainty.
“We’re Little Sisters,” I say in a low, chiding voice. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve sucked your dick. Now move aside.”
His eyes flare with embarrassment as he stumbles out of the way.
“Good boy,” I say, bopping him on the nose for emphasis as I stride past. Pulling my mask back down, I don’t bother to look around. The scene never changes. Kieren’s not down here. I can feel the tug of his presence like a magnet. He’s upstairs.
I turn back to Gabi and point once to the hallway and again up toward the ceiling. She gives me a nod. Let the fucking games begin.
We take our time meandering up the multiple flights of stairs until we can no longer go any further. No need to rush this part and ruin the fun. The stairwell spits us out at the opposite end of the fraternity from Kieren’s room. I drag my axe on the floor behind me, as if contact with the ground is how the weapon gets its charge.
Here kitty, kitty,I think to myself, although I might be saying it out loud. Adrenaline clouds my senses, making me feel laser-focused yet manic at the same time. I round the corner and see the beginning of my end.
Encased in a small glass box is the fire alarm, that, once triggered means there’s no going back. From the moment we set foot in Sigma and up until now, we’ve been cosplaying. Two women dressed as murderous, axe-carrying, weapon-bearing superheroes who could turn around at any moment, go home, and order a pizza.
Five steps and it’s over.
Four steps and it’s over.
Three.
Two.
One.
The shrill bleat of the alarm screams to life as I swing the blade of my axe at the glass box like an unhinged psychopath. Here we fucking go.
I shift my axe into my non-dominant hand and sling it over my shoulder as I unsheathe my knife from the holster. The entrance to Kieren’s common room is less than ten feet away. Scantily clad women and half-naked men stream into the hall as we approach, bewildered. I pause my swagger and cock my head to the side, aware that my Purge mask reads ‘GOD’, and raise my hand with the knife to point at the first doe-eyed frat boy I see.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Gabi fires off three rounds at the ceiling and the boy in my direct line of sight looks like he’s about to shit himself. Screams shake the walls as we near. Those already in the hallway crouch against the wall, covering themselves with their hands, like that will do any fucking good.
As the chaos within Kieren’s common room comes into view, I can’t help but smile. Women and men alike scramble overpadded leather couches and chairs in an attempt to hide. From the corner of my eye, I see someone try the handle of Kieren’s bedroom only to find it won’t budge. Locked. Good to know. Won’t waste my time there.
