Page 61 of Caged
Early October, Senior Year,
Dornell University
Two weeks have passed since a body was found floating in the gorge.
Three weeks have passed since Kasey went missing, and I haven’t heard a peep about any police investigation. Do they honestly believe she’s simply on a bender with her boyfriend, and therefore aren’t concerned? That seems preposterous!
Ele, Viv, and I continue to tiptoe around the explosive conversation we had the night I almost got caught trying to break into Sigma. I guess it’s easier to sweep it under the rug, but at some point, I’ll have to address the rift I’ve caused.
I don’t dare tell them I’ve planned one last-ditch attempt to discover what is or isn’t hiding in Sigma’s basement. Eying my reflection in the mirror, I slick my hair back into a low bun. The light-brown wig I bought looks more realistic in person, which isa pleasant surprise. Combined with a pair of thick-framed, faux glasses, I like to think I will look almost unrecognizable.
What’s wild is I’ve spent a fair amount of time researching Sigma and have gone down several eye-opening online forum rabbit holes. Apparently, it was common in past years for fraternities to have a tradition calledLittle Sisters, where women would get paired with fraternity members who were supposed to act as big brother mentors. In reality, it seemed like it was really about the sex.
At certain fraternities, but not all, it was understood that Little Sisters had to sleep with a designated number of fraternity brothers to maintain their honorary status. If that doesn’t scream cult to you, I don’t know what does. Sometimes, these‘mentorships’led to relationships and even marriages, so maybe there are a few happy endings, but overall, it was just a group sex fest. Which, you know, no judgement, as long as it’s consensual. I can practically hear Monroe’s voice in my head say the heteronormative ways of the past are tiresome anyway. She was always accepting of people’s differences.Is accepting, I correct myself.
I place the wig on top of my head and straighten it into place.
Sigma’s take on this tradition, however, seems to be much darker. For every hundred or so forum threads, a comment regarding demonic human sacrifice would percolate and immediately be shut down as blasphemy, dirty rumors, or the occasional:Watch your fuckin back. No one is anonymous, even on the Internet.
I comb out the strands of shoulder-length, mousey brown hair.
It might all be hearsay, but where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and after what I witnessed three weeks ago, I think there’s a fair amount of fire burning in that hellhole.
I swipe baby-pink lip gloss along my lips and pop them together. The look is giving ‘shy girl who secretly likes to get railed while handcuffed to the bed,’ and I think my vibe will fit in perfectly at the Sigma mixer tonight.
An email went out earlier this week to the members of my sorority letting us know this mixer was only for freshmen and sophomores. Seems suspicious, doesn’t it?
My outfit tonight is an unassuming black tank top, basic jeans, and sneakers – a look that will blend in with the other freshman and sophomore women. I grab my most modest bag and throw my phone, keys, and lip gloss inside.
“Excuse me, who are you?” Ele asks from across the living room.
I try to ignore her, but she’s off the couch and steps away from intercepting me in a heartbeat.
“Relax, Ele. It’s just me,” I say, turning around to face her with a guilty look.
“Gabi? What the fuck? Why are youwearingthat?”
I shrug. “Thought I’d try something different.”
“Hold on,” Ele says as she crosses her arms. “Where are you going?”
Again, I shrug. “Just… out.”
“Out?” she challenges.
“Sorry, I have to run, my Uber is downstairs,” I say.
“Gabi,” she shouts, grabbing my arm. “Where are you going?”
I sigh in frustration because there's no use in hiding the obvious.
“You know where I’m going, Ele. Don’t try to stop me.”
29
MONROE
Six Months Prior to Present Day,
