Chapter 31 Monroe #2
I stick to the perimeter of the large dining room.
Every few steps, one of the members will look up from her conversation and offer me a friendly smile or wave.
The mask I don as sorority president feels heavier with each wear, because underneath the mask, I’m cracking.
Unravelling. Crumbling into a pile of ash.
Ten paces in front of me, I spot her.
“Hey Kasey,” I say, bending down to tap her on the shoulder. She startles slightly at my touch, and I feel guilty for interrupting what seemed like a juicy gossip session. “Could I talk to you for a minute? It’ll just take a second.”
“Oh, sure.”
She gives me a wary half-smile and pushes her chair back to stand. I motion with my index finger that we should head to a different room for this conversation and make my way to a quiet nook in the foyer.
“How are you doing?” I ask, turning to face her.
Kasey’s eyes meet mine and then quickly look away. “Fine, you know. Excited for spring break.”
Her clipped answers give me pause, and I can sense she’s deeply uncomfortable in my presence.
It’s… heartbreaking. I’m supposed to be a confidant, a mentor, a mother figure to these young women, especially to Kasey, who is my Grand-Little.
I was supposed to be a friendly face, accessible and caring, before Kieren gave me a different face, one that I didn’t ask for and quite frankly, no longer want.
But apparently, this new face is permanent, and the reason why I’ve hardly been at my sorority this semester.
I’ve cancelled just as many chapter meetings as I’ve held.
I’ve let emails from sorority headquarters about our finances go unanswered.
I’ve not even done the bare minimum, and it’s painfully obvious to everyone.
I have not been the leader I had hoped to be when I took this position.
I knew it was a thankless role, but I’d intended to show up and try.
I push my failures as sorority president aside and compartmentalize them for a later date. “The other night,” I begin, “you said someone had been running their mouth about… you know.”
I don’t want to say the words ‘Sigma Little Sisters’ out loud, and I wonder if my extreme paranoia is out of fear, or if I’ve just been brainwashed by Kieren.
“Was the name of that someone Rory? The same Rory who is missing?”
Kasey’s eyes flare with terror. “Please, Monroe. It wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t me.”
Tears roll down her cheeks before she can cover her face. A sob rips from her lips.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I say, and tenderly press my palm to her shoulder. She begins walking, and I follow, neither of us uttering a word as we ascend the creaky steps.
I pull my keys from my purse to unlock my bedroom. A stale, musty smell wafts into the hallway from days of disuse when I push open the door. Kasey takes a seat on my bed, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“Please, Monroe. You have to believe me. You have to tell him that it wasn’t me.”
“Wait, Kasey, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I admit as I sit down beside her. “Did something happen? Did someone say something?”
“Kieren thinks it was me,” she sniffs.
“Thinks what was you?” I push, still completely in the dark.
“Some of the girls, Rory and these two other girls who are sophomores, Arden and Tessa, said they are writing this article for the Dornell Daily. They said they want to expose Sigma, and that Sigma Little Sisters is just a way to get women to have sex with guys in the fraternity. They think it’s degrading, even if it’s consensual, because of the power dynamic.
Tessa tried to get me to contribute my story to the article because of what happened with Barrett. ”
I furrow my brow, unsure if I want to know, but I can’t help my curiosity.
“What happened with Barret?”
“You didn’t hear?” she asks.
She pulls down the collar of her sweater to expose the top of her shoulder, and I gasp. Brown and purple remnants of what must have been a nasty, circular bruise steal my breath away. It reminds me of… teeth marks.
Instantly, I’m transported to a vision of myself, looking at my own reflection in the mirror at Kieren’s home in Connecticut.
It was early fall, around October, my freshman year.
Kieren and I had been dating for barely a month.
It was the first time he revealed his primal side, and it was also the first time I felt my sexuality come alive.
But seeing the same bite marks on someone else…
“Jesus, Kasey,” I stammer. “Are you okay?” She quickly pulls up her sweater.
“It’s not a big deal. Honestly, in the moment, I was into it, but the next day, when I ran into Tessa in the bathroom at Sigma, she saw my shoulder and flipped out. I was only wearing a bra and Barrett’s boxer shorts and didn’t realize the extent of the bruising.”
“Barrett felt horrible. Truly, he did,” she rationalizes. “We were both recklessly high that night. After Barrett helped Kieren with the Ritual, he came back to his room, and we did more molly, or… I’m not really sure what we did. I don’t remember,” she admits sheepishly.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I selfishly disregard Kasey’s ordeal. “What do you mean, ‘Help Kieren with the ritual?’”
The only knowledge I have about what happens in the hidden room is from Kieren, and I’m not convinced anymore that he told me the truth.
“I don’t know,” she says quietly. “He said he can’t talk about it because it’s a secret Sigma thing, but he confidentially told me it’s just a bunch of chanting. That’s why some of the brothers wear those different masks.”
Annoyingly, that tracks with Kieren’s retelling, but still, it doesn’t sit right with me.
“I know I should be more careful,” Kasey pivots.
“Barrett said there is security footage of someone staggering on their front lawn at four a.m. that night, and they think it’s Rory.
She was wasted and must have wandered out of Sigma – like sleepwalking – but Tessa thinks foul play was involved.
She said she didn’t see Rory upstairs or at all after the Ceremony. ”
Without warning, Kasey launches into a hysterical sob. “Please tell him I would never betray Sigma. I would never do that to Barrett.”
She swipes at her tears with the heel of her palm. “Saturday night, he kept calling me his girlfriend,” she sniffs. “He wouldn’t let anyone else touch me.”
She shakes her head. “Barret is so fucking pissed at Tessa. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”
“What do Tessa and Arden look like?” I blurt out, realizing my abrupt need to know their appearances stems from that festering kernel of doubt in the back of my mind.
“Tessa has long black hair that’s kind of wavy, about my height, I think.
Arden has dark brown hair with caramel-colored, ombre highlights.
She has it cut in a super cute bob. Every time I see her, I’m jealous of how stylish her hair looks.
I could never pull it off. Sorry, I guess all I recall about either of them is their hairstyle. ”
I nod, trying to picture the two women. I’m sure if I saw their pictures, I would recognize them, because I generally know most of the sophomore women in the Greek system from rush.
You practically have to memorize names and faces so you don’t accidentally put down the wrong name on your bid card, thinking it was someone different.
I’m also surprised there are sophomores in the ranks of Sigma Little Sisters, since I thought all the initiates were freshmen.
“For what it’s worth, Kieren hasn’t said anything about you betraying Sigma. He didn’t say anything of the sort about the other women either. I wouldn’t worry, but if he brings it up, I’ll make sure he knows you weren’t involved.”
It’s not an outright lie, but rather a withholding of the truth, and it sickens me.
I should tell Kasey to run. I should tell her never to set foot in Sigma again.
But what if I’m wrong? What if Rory did unintentionally stumble outside, and her disappearance is a horrible, tragic accident?
What if I’m the paranoid one? What if Kieren lied, and the Ritual is a group sex thing?
The woman walked into that hidden room without protest. Did she know and go willingly?
My mind spins and spins and spins until I’m on the verge of vomiting.
“You can come talk to me anytime, Kasey. I’m here for you, and I won’t let anything happen.”
She manages a pained smile. “Thank you,” Kasey whispers. “I’m going to fix my makeup before going back downstairs, but I’ll see you around? Maybe at Sigma?”
“Of course,” I say as the pangs of regret tear at my chest.
I head downstairs and back to Harrison’s vehicle.
“Can I ask you something?” I begin, pulling the door closed.
“Sure,” he answers gruffly, annoyed I can tell to have to engage in conversation.
“Where did you and Barrett go with the elders after the Ritual was over? You two drove them somewhere, right?”
Color drains from Harrison’s face. His eyelids twitch, but his gaze is locked straight ahead.
“I can’t talk to you about this,” he states.
“Why?” I push.
He refuses to answer or look at me.
“Why?” I ask again, loud and demanding.
His unflinching focus on the road ahead is a bit too forced.
Pale hands grip the steering wheel a bit too hard.
I don’t ask again. He could have said anything, made up any lie.
He could have said they drove the elders back to their hotel, or went to get food, or to do a late-night alcohol run.
But he didn’t. He panicked, and his silence gives away his complicity.
Because, what if I’m not paranoid?
What if that unsettling feeling in my gut is subconscious confirmation?
And the worst question of all: What the fuck do I do if I’m right?