The back stairs

You do not want to get stabbed, and running out into the rain by yourself seems like a pretty good way to get stabbed. You need to find some people, and that means getting up to the kitchen. You go for it.

Your injured toe hurts, and Peachface is fast! She’s right behind you, but you dump a conveniently perched cardboard box in her path. The objects inside spill across the floor, forcing her to awkwardly step over them.

You rush through the dark, searching desperately. That’s a dead end. That’s the boiler room. You see light up ahead and sprint, bounding up the steps to the narrow door that leads into the kitchen, crashing through it and slamming it behind you.

The kitchen is warm and bright. It smells delicious.

You lean against the door, panting, and slam the deadbolt. Three girls are in the kitchen, all staring at you in surprise.

That little missionary girl, Bao, sits at the table with a mug in her hands. Dorothy is at the stove, and Missy is also at the table. The extremely buxom, bleached blonde pledge looks at you curiously.

“What’s up, Delilah?” she says.

“There’s someone down there,” you wheeze, pointing at the door. “She’s wearing a mask. I think she was going to stab me.”

That gets Dorothy to turn away from her cooking and frown. “What? Stab you?”

“I’m not kidding,” you say desperately.

“Probably part of your initiation,” Missy says with a shrug. “Congrats, by the way.”

“No, I’m…” They don’t get it. They don’t believe you. “Look!” You point at your bleeding toe.

“Yikes,” Dorothy says, hurrying to get you a paper towel. “You need a band aid. I have a first aid kit. Hold on.”

No. You have to do something. You can’t communicate it to them because they won’t understand. They didn’t see what Peachface was like. No one will believe that it wasn’t just a prank, but you know the truth. That person down there was going to kill you.

You look back at the door in panic, but nobody’s banging on it or anything.

Your phone? You lost it, and it doesn’t matter anyway because of the weather. The police can’t get here, and they wouldn’t believe you anyway. But the police are here… somewhere. Where did Lopez go? The attic? You don’t even know how to get to the attic, and the last thing you want to do is go wandering around by yourself.

You shove past Dorothy, startling her, as she approaches with a first aid kit, and rush into the hall and up the stairs. You run down the hall, ignoring the pain in your toe, to your bedroom. You jerk the door open, finding it empty. The bed is still a mess, but there’s no sign of Julieta. Where did she go? Doesn’t matter.

You get inside and slam the door, locking it. You get a chair and stick it under the handle, then close and lock the window. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t leave in the rain because your car will never make it to town, not with the road flooded. You have to try to warn them. But how?

~ You're alive! ~

Next Girl is Missy