Screams in the night

You must have fallen asleep, because you wake with a sudden start reaching for an **** rifle that isn't there. It takes only a few seconds for you to recognize your surroundings, but before you have a chance to wonder why you're regressing to the nightmares that have not had for several years a scream filters down from above.

You take the time to pull on your khakis, but don't bother with a shirt as a second (probably third) scream of terror makes its way through the still night air. Taking the marble steps three at a time you power your way into the forbidden territory of the upper floors of the Mellon building. As you reach the second floor you see a common area filled with students clustered around a shrieking brunette.

"Why? Oh God Why?!" More doors are opening up and down the hallway and as many as a dozen more young women stumble from their rooms in various states of undress. Most of the students were wearing short lacy nightgowns or various oversized t-shirts, but several of them shriek in surprise when they see a shirtless man outside their rooms and at least two of the students dart back into their rooms leaving you with glimpses of bare breasts and lacy panties that barely cover their pretty rear ends.

You barely notice the smorgasbord of young female flesh as you try to push your way through the crowd of scantily clad 2nd year students trying to console the panicked brunette. When you finally reach her you don't even try to talk to the girl instead sweeping her into your arms and smothering her face against your chest. Thankfully, unlike most of the other students, this student is wearing a long-sleeved blouse of some light black fabric and a pair of dark jeans.

"It wasn't me!" The student sobs quietly, and then she raises her voice again screaming into the hallway. "I wasn't even there that night. Take back your stupid gift, It's not me!"

A tall willowy blonde in black leggings and a dark blue t-shirt closes rapidly from the open door gripping the girl's shoulder firmly and shouting her name loudly.

"Chanel!" Her sharp tone, so different from the consoling voices of the other students, seems to get through to the student. You feel Chanel stiffen in your arms, and then turn enough to answer the blonde. "It's easy for you Rose, they don't think it's you!" Her panicked tone now takes on that a petulant brat. "You're not the one who got the box!" Before you even get a chance to figure out what is going on a new voice cuts through the clamor.

"Mr. Hawkfeather! What do you think you're doing?" You recognize Diana's unmistakable tone. "Unhand Miss Vallon immediately!" Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to pry Chanel from your chest, both her arms are wrapped tightly around your back. As you turn to explain Chanel's friend intercedes on your behalf.

"It's not what you think Ms. Naylor," she tells the stern headmistress with more confidence than you've seen from any student so far, "Chanel had a nightmare, she woke up screaming about some crazy nonsense. All the girls were trying to help, but then Dean Hawkfeather arrived and helped calm her down."