A Deadly Sorority (Book #1 Sorority Horrors)

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Slumped on the couch, I cocooned myself in a warm, cozy blanket. Its warmth gave me a comfort I didn't know I needed.

The horrific events that transpired last night were still fresh in my mind. Each heart-pounding memory played back like an old-school VHS tape that was stuck on rewind.

Then, the thought of Brianna possibly being attacked that night at the Ball hit me like a ton of bricks. I was so shaken and overwhelmed for my own safety that I completely forgot to check on her. When I debriefed with the police, they didn't provide me with any reassuring information about Brianna's encounter with the Crimson Lake Killer, if there was one.

I could only hope she was alright. Most of our sorority sisters were there. I knew Patricia must be, too. She had ended up at the Winter Ball as well. Despite her strangely odd behavior, I decided to shoot her a text; maybe she had some insight into how Brianna was doing.

Kayla: Hey Patricia! I hope you're recovering from the horrific nightmare of last night's events.

Patricia: I'm doing the best I can.

Kayla: I  was curious about Brianna... Is she alright? When I spoke with them, I asked one of the officers about her, but they were hesitant to provide any information.

Patricia: Honestly, I'm not sure, Kayla. I've been tending to the bruises I sustained trying to escape. I'm also dealing with a sprained ankle.

I gasped.

Kayla: I'm so sorry. Do you need anything?

Patricia: No, I'm fine... just resting for now.

Kayla: Well, if you do need anything, I'm just a text away. 😊

Patricia: Thank you so much, Kayla! By the way, has Detective Johnson stopped by your place?

Kayla: No. Why?

Patricia: Just curious. I heard he was going to visit everyone who was at last night's ball and interview them.

Should I expect a visit from Detective Johnson?

I shrugged, my thoughts somersaulting to the blood smeared across my door, spelling out my name, which was more unsettling than the strange man trapped with me in the costume room, whom I presumed was the Crimson Lake Killer. Needless to say, I was shaken up and terrified for my life.

With the remote in my hand, I flipped mindlessly through the different streaming networks. Every time I landed on a true crime show, I immediately skipped it. Watching them now would be too detrimental to my mental health since I was currently living a true crime reality of my own.

Pondering on my future in Irvine left me feeling uneasy. The threat of the Crimson Lake Killer caused a sense of powerlessness to rise within as his pursuit remained steady and unrelenting. In other words, I was doomed.

I swam out of my thoughts when a sudden knock at the door startled me. Peering through the blinds, I saw Detective Johnson standing there, and a sense of relief spilled over me. But a deep, inherent fear still lingered.

I hurriedly opened the door, noticing an accordion-type folder in his hand. He wore a stereotypical detective's uniform: a long beige trench coat, gray slacks, and brown loafers. If I were a kid, I'd thought he was the real-life Inspector Gadget.

"Hi, Detective Johnson," I greeted, trying to mask my unease by forcing a smile.

"How are you holding up, Kayla?" he asked, his expression grave.