Slash or Pass

Chapter 1

A BLOODCURDLING SCREAM SHATTERS THE MORNING stillness.

Loud enough to wake everyone in the sorority.

The first thought to cross my mind isn’t to find out what’s happening outside.

No, my first thought is, I need a screamer like that for the final assignment of my Advanced Cinematography class.

Lungs with that capacity don’t come around often, especially not ones carrying a specific aura.

If there’s something I’ve learned in the years I’ve been studying film at Westbrook College, it’s that anyone can scream, but not everyone can convey the true essence of horror.

And that girl screaming like a banshee outside is exactly what I need.

I’ve already used all my contacts from previous projects, both for school and personal, and held auditions at the auditorium. So far, nothing matches what I’m hearing.

It’s not like a lot of people are willing to work with you now.

I jump from my seat, leaving behind the half-eaten bowl of Cheerios, and I rush out along with the other Kappas to find my perfect scream queen.

My bare feet slap against the floor tiles.

I know I should probably run upstairs to find my slippers, but I can’t miss this.

What if I wait and she’s gone when I go to find her?

This can’t wait.

By the time I make it outside, there’s a group of people gathered around the main fountain in the roundabout.

A mix of frat guys and sorority girls have begun to crowd the area, making it impossible for me to see what’s happening.

Murmurs become loud and the shrieks of my missing scream queen cut through them, creating a dissonance.

Whoever is screaming is clearly in a serious amount of shock.

“Excuse me,” I say, elbowing people as I make my way through the crowd, trying to catch the conversations around me.

“Where’s my emergency whistle? I never leave without my emergency whistle!”

“Lavender, the emergency whistle is for alive people; the guy is clearly dead,” someone responds.

Lavender—she might be a Sigma, but I don’t recognize her—lets out a shocked gasp that transforms into a sob. Why is she crying?

It doesn’t seem like she knows the dead person.

“How will the cops find him then?”

Two girls next to Lavender begin to softly pat her back in an effort to calm her down, explaining they should call 911 instead.

“Does anyone know who it is?” someone asks.

“Glenn, you know everyone. Can you see if he’s one of us?”

Us. He means another frat guy. Someone I’ve probably seen around on campus or at parties. A person we might have been in class with. Realization begins to settle in my limbs, stopping me in my tracks. For a moment, I become paralyzed by the news. A person died today.

The screams were full of horror because someone found a dead body.

My stomach churns with embarrassment and nerves. Have I truly become so desensitized to horror that I no longer consider a scream a call for help? My first thought . . . Jesús. What’s wrong with me?

“No way,” the guy, Glenn, replies instantly. “I’m not going anywhere near that.”

“I’ll check,” another guy offers, and while I can’t see the owner of the voice, I recognize it.

Danny Singh.

Inevitably, like the main character of a cheesy chick-flick, I feel my breath hitch, getting stuck somewhere in my throat.

Pure heat makes its way to my cheeks, even though the sun hasn’t fully warmed up yet.

My body betrays me, and I can’t help but stare down at my bare feet on the gravel to find a distraction to prevent me from looking at him.

I haven’t talked to Danny in days, possibly more than a week now. Not after The Incident.

“Don’t dead bodies have diseases? You could get, like, rabies or something from getting too close,” a girl supplies, her voice thick with concern.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that, Paris, but I’ll take it into consideration, okay?” he says in a calm and even tone.

Danny always knows what to say and how to calm people around him. His aura exudes peace and trustworthiness. That’s why he’s the president of Delta Phi. There’s probably not a single person on campus who doesn’t like Danny.

Including me. Especially me.

Ignoring the way his voice makes my stomach flutter, I attempt to swallow through the dryness in my mouth.

I need to get it together. As much as a big part of me wants to run away and continue my plan to avoid Danny until graduation day arrives, my feet remain locked to the ground.

Aware I won’t move until he confirms if we know the victim, I stay still, hidden among a row of girls.

“Is it one of us?” the guy presses again.

“No, not anymore,” Danny states, but there’s a secondary layer to his tone, something he isn’t quite saying and doesn’t know how to reveal. “It’s Brian . . . Brian Manders.”

Hearing the name knocks the air out of my lungs.

Cold sweat spreads over my body. A trace of tingles makes my fingers shake.

I push everyone out of the way to get a better look.

A wave of nausea rolls through my stomach, but I don’t allow the bile to rise.

Instead, I stay still, staring at the gory scene in front of me.

I’ve seen plenty of horror movies, from slashers to splatter films, to the point where barely anything fazes me anymore.

But this? This was a murder done with pure hatred and anger.

Brian’s mutilated corpse hangs from the statue in the middle of the fountain.

His arms twisted in an unnatural position.

Blood drips into the water, pooling around the center like a red shadow.

Deep cuts slash through his face, making him barely recognizable.

But it’s not the wounds on his face or the position of his body that make me want to bend over and hurl.

No, it’s the way he’s been gutted like a fish.

His intestines hang from his abdomen like ropes, reaching his feet.

On his chest, the killer has used Brian’s own blood to spell out one word: rapist.

“Mabel.” I vaguely hear Danny call out my name, but it’s barely white noise in the back of my brain.

I’m unable to stop staring at Brian’s dead body.

The violence lures me in, keeping me in a locked trance as if it were hypnotizing me.

A warm hand touches my shoulder, and I jump, startled until I realize it’s Danny.

His soft caress pulls me in, but it’s not enough to get me to break free from the spell.

“Please, take a step back,” Danny urges in a gentle tone.

His fingers delicately touch my jaw and turn my gaze from the body to look at him instead. Worry swims in the warm caramel of his irises, grounding me to reality by spreading a flush of comfort through my veins.

I blink, suddenly too aware of what’s happening. It’s not the fact that Danny is touching me, his thumb drawing invisible circles over the fabric of my T-shirt. I had approached the fountain. I’m not sure why. I simply . . . did.

Rising tension cramps my lungs.

What the hell was I thinking?

“That’s it,” Danny praises, offering me one of his radiant smiles.

But I’ve spent too much time observing him in the past to not know it’s forced.

There’s a slight tremble making the corners of his lips waver.

It’s not real. Danny’s real smile is blinding and breathtaking.

“Keep looking at me, Mabs.” Without breaking eye contact, he lures me into him, gently shielding me with his arms. “Don’t look at him. Focus on me.”

But while I try to keep my gaze locked on his, the murmurs are distracting.

Somehow, me approaching the body like a horror freak has caused a stir. Everyone is staring at me, including the only two people I want to protect from this view. Behind Danny, I see the beautiful light brown curls of my sister’s hair as she rushes up with my best friend.

The world seems to shift on its axis. Although every cell in my body doesn’t want me to, I take a step back from Danny’s touch.

Giving in to his initial request to step away from the fountain, I run to stop Carmen and Cerys from getting closer.

The first person I reach is my best friend and I wrap her in my arms, shielding her from seeing this gnarly scene.

The murmurs grow around us, so loud it’s deafening.

“What happened?” Cerys asks, with a small tremble in her voice. “Who is it?”

My heart constricts in my chest.

“It’s Brian,” I announce. I’m surprised my voice doesn’t break with the fear of what’s to come. “Someone murdered him.”

And it’s only then I realize I’m hugging the person who will become the prime suspect: my best friend.

Because, a few months ago, Brian Manders raped her.