Canvas the campus

I head to the campus of Williams Women's College, determined to dig up more information on the suicides that have plagued the place. I decide to leave my father's Colt Peacemaker locked in the glove compartment of the pickup truck for now. I don't think I'll need it and the last thing I want is to draw any unnecessary attention.

As I park the truck and make my way onto the campus, I can't help but notice the chill in the air. Autumn is in full swing here in Virginia, and the vibrant colors of the leaves provide a stark contrast to the darker undertones of the situation that I'm investigating. I walk along the paved pathway, keeping my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.

Passing by the library, I can't shake the feeling that there might be something here, some vital piece of information that could help crack the case. Right now, though, I wouldn't even know what to look for. I decide to make a note to come back here later when I know more and have a proper look through the archives.

I notice a group of girls chatting by a large fountain. I continue towards them, trying to appear casual. The girls I pass by seem so carefree, so innocent, and the thought that they could be the next to die is both heart wrenching and terrifying. "Excuse me, ladies," I call out, approaching the huddled group of students.

I can tell from their body language and the way they exchange sidelong glances that they are wary of my presence. I should've known better. "Yeah, what do you want?" One of the girls speaks up, her eyes narrowing. She has long, red hair that frames her face, and I can't help but notice the defensiveness in her tone.

"I heard about the recent suicides on campus," I explain, trying to come across as friendly and non-threatening. "I was hoping I could talk to you about them. Were there any strange occurrences you might have noticed." Subtlety isn't my strong suit. The other girls exchange glances, some of them looking uneasy.

"Look, this is a safe space for us, and we don't need some strange lady coming in here and making us feel uncomfortable," the redhead continues. She has a fierceness in her gaze that belies her age. Women, in general, don't seem to cotton to my particular brand of charisma.

"I don't want to upset anyone. I just wanted a few details," I reply, hoping to assuage their fears. "I just want to keep you safe." The power that makes me irresistible to men makes most women see me as a threat, a beacon of danger, a rival. Just my luck this is a women's college.

"But by bringing up such a dark subject, you're creating a hostile environment for us. We don't need that," another girl, this one with a mop of mousy brown hair and big, soulful eyes behind thick glasses, chimes in. "What are you? A reporter trying to cash in on tragedy?" This could be going better.

"I understand your concerns, and I'm sorry if I've offended you," I say. The redhead and her mousy compatriot, sensing the predator within me, signal each other and march off to fetch campus security. I keep walking, my hands in my pockets, trying to look as casual as possible. The other girls just glare at me.

A few minutes later, Mouse and Red return with a burly female security guard, who looks like she could take on the entire college football team. I see the girls smirk as she approaches, her thick soled shoes crunching on the gravel. My gut tells me this isn't going to end well.

"Alright, lady, you're obviously not a student, and the girls here are saying you're making them uncomfortable," she says, her tone a mix of authority and bluster. I start to speak but she holds up a hand. "I don't care what your intentions are. The girls want you gone, and I'm ordering you to leave campus."

Just then, the guard's radio belches a message puntuated by static. "Code 988, Sventes Dormitory, Room 306." 988 is the number for the suicide hotline. It seems likely they are using it as a radio code, which means that there has been another suicide. I feel the white rage flash behind my eyes. The guard's expression hardens.

She turns to me, her tone now more insistent, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Now would be a good time for you to leave, Miss. We have a job to do, and you're not making it any easier for us." I hesitate, weighing my options. My instincts are screaming for me to stay, to punch this smug bitch in the face. However, logically, I know that probably won't help me achieve my goal.