SSS 2: Peachface Returns

It’s October in Central Florida.

The air is warm, soupy, and perfectly still. A heaviness lies over Gurlberg and the surrounding swamp and forest.

The vast, old mansion that serves as home to the CCL Sorority doesn’t do well in this kind of weather. The girls have to be watchful for mold at the best of times, and this kind of pervasive moisture is a nightmare. It’s lucky that the mansion’s on a hill, so at least they have drainage going for them, but it doesn’t stop the old place from smelling damp all the time.

It’s Friday night and the house is alive.

Shrieks of laughter echo from the upper floor as Yellowstone plays in the TV room downstairs. In the kitchen, a slow cooker’s lid rattles as the barbecue sauce and grape jelly inside bubbles with cocktail sausages. Chip bags crinkle and chocolate milk splashes into mugs. Phones beep and ding as texts fly thick and fast. The smell of tequila is strong in the kitchen; someone spilled some and mopped it up with a towel, then left the towel on the counter. It’s not unusual for the booze to flow on a Friday. It’s been a long week.

A beer battle balances precariously on the banister in the front hall.

A pledge named Kalyna dashes forward to snatch it off before it can fall and shatter. Broken glass is dangerous. Kalyna has long legs, but she’s no athlete. Dashing doesn’t come easily to her. She gets the bottle but trips and crashes to the steps, her bony, birdlike form unsuited to… well, anything.

Relieved, she unfolds her limbs and picks herself up, wishing that people wouldn’t leave hazardous objects lying around that way. She has a narrow face with a pointed chin. Her nose is a bit of a beak and her pale, blonde hair is even more argumentative than her complexion. Her leggings and T-shirt only add to her stork-like appearance. She takes the bottle to the recycling containers in the laundry room, which she must now organize. CCL girls struggle to discern between mixed paper and corrugated cardboard. They also have a hard time remembering to take the lids off.

Kalyna starts to sweat under her arms as she works to sort the recycling. She doesn’t have time for this right now.

She leaps with a scream as the lights go off.

“Oh,” the girl who flipped the switch says. “Sorry.” She flicks it back on. A lot of girls run around purely on reflex, hitting lights out of habit when they enter rooms.

“Oh,” Kalyna says, shutting her eyes as her heart races. She quickly finishes with the recycling and hurries upstairs to her room, which is spotlessly neat. No. Not as neat as it should be. With a little groan of frustration, she grabs the backpack from the closet, the gray one, and opens it. Her laptop and charger go in first. Phone charger. Tissues. A multi-tool. A bag of M&Ms, no, two bags. Some sugar-free gum. What else will she need? A bottle of water would be a good idea. Earbuds.

The bedroom across the hall isn’t quite as neat. It’s not gross or disgraceful, but the hardwood floor is hidden by discarded clothing. Only half of the clothing belongs to the pledge that sleeps here.

Taytum stands in the middle of the room, half-dressed. She got her panties and Chvrches tank top on, but that’s as far as she got. She stares vacantly at the wall, looking peaceful or dead, while ADHD and other things are brawling inside her skull. She’s a slim, fair-skinned brunette who rarely bothers with makeup. People used to tell her that she reminded them of a famous actress who turned out to be a trans guy. There’s nothing inherently problematic with the compliment, but those conversations have a way of getting weird.

She shakes her head in disgust, then startles as someone taps on the door.

“I know,” she snaps, twisting to put one hand on the door as though she’ll need to hold it shut. She won’t need to hold it shut; nobody’s trying to barge in. “I’m coming,” she mutters, looking around. She grabs a pair of jeans and wiggles into them, then dons a thin, black shirt with overlong sleeves with holes for her thumbs. She pulls a hoodie on over that and finds her phone. That done, she scowls at the floor, then bends over to pick up an empty kombucha bottle. She twists off the top, shakes it to make sure it’s empty, then sets it on the desk.

Taytum drops to her knees and pulls the 1.75L bottle of Canadian Mist from under her bed. It’s half-empty. She takes a long drink straight from the bottle before carefully pouring more into the kombucha bottle. Then she picks it up, drinks about half, and refills it. A soft kick sends the empty whiskey bottle rolling back under the bed and she stands up, patting her pockets.

She isn’t wearing shoes.

Grumbling, Taytum sits on her bed and pulls on her sneakers. She grabs her Kombucha bottle, takes a deep breath, and leaves the room. Downstairs, she finds Kalyna waiting in the foyer with her backpack.

In the kitchen, girls are laughing.

Taytum and Kalyna are not.

SAPPHIC SORORITY SLASHER 2: PEACHFACE RETURNS

New chapters are planned for Mondays and Fridays.

Steer the story by voting in the comments when you see [ Open ].

Every choice has a point value. The top three scorers will win a prize similar to what was offered in previous SSS stories.

Choose the player character: Kalyna or Taytum