Pretty In Scarlet

February 13th, 2009: Two Days Left To Live

The music from the alarm clock had been blaring for ten minutes now, without a snooze button smash to speak of. Not that it mattered. She'd been awake for thirty-seven hours and counting, with no end in sight.

The song shifted to a favourite of hers-Marilyn Manson's "Disposable Teens"-and Nikki Lang took this as her signal to rise from her bed and find a way to proverbially shine. Grateful that her roommate had flown home early for Reading Week, she indulged her desire to headbang herself awake. Tangled red hair flew in all directions as she flailed and stripped off her tank top and shorts.

One thing she and Mr. Manson could agree on: the revolution wasn't coming, and frankly, she couldn't give a damn if it was.

One glance in the mirror told her all she needed to know: no shower could steam away the raccoon shadows around her eyes. With a defeated shrug, she filled the bathroom sink with warm water. Better not to face the horde of perfect prep school girls and their oblivious smiles in the shared showers. For all of the horrors in her dorm room cell, at least it was private.

Better the devil you know.

Plunging her face into the sink, Nikki held her breath and counted. Her lungs began aching by the count of twenty but she pressed on a little longer, allowing vertigo to set in. Maybe sleep would be nice. There was a time when she'd loved sleep. A time before-

But then she was completely beneath the water, eyes open as her hands scraped the porcelain basin. No air, no air, no air. Her foot weakly kicked the ground but she was drowning, drowning in so little water, drowning in the evil of the room. It giggled and Nikki gagged as soapy water seeped between her lips.

This was it. The room wanted her for keeps.

A beacon of hope cut through the sloshing: "Nikki?"

With a heavy sigh, the water relented, freeing her in a frothy wave that cascaded onto the tiles below. Clutching her chest, Nikki fought back tears as she greedily gulped the air. Rivulets rushed down her bare chest, tumbling onto her thighs as a more frantic pounding began.

"Damn it, Nikki! Open this door."

"I'm not dressed!" she managed with a wheeze, scrambling for a nearby towel.

"One minute," the voice warned.

"Coming!"

With a muttered curse, she managed to sluice the water from her still-tangled hair before sopping up the worst of the mess. Tugging on the first pair of panties in her drawer, she reached for yesterday's black bra and fumbled with the hooks.

"Ten seconds, or so help me-"

Flipping the deadbolt, Nikki stormed back to the bathroom. "Goddamn it, Meg! Come in, if you're so desperate to see me naked."

She heard her door open, followed by a groan. "Something tells me you didn't get the good night's rest that the doctor ordered."

Nikki tugged a comb viciously through her hair, peeking around the corner. "Can't imagine why you'd think that."

The petite brunette in the center of her room gestured to the rumpled, yet relatively made bed and the empty Red Bull cans on the windowsill. "I rest my case, Ms. Lang."

"Sleep is for the weak. Find me a uniform that isn't completely ripe?"

"Way ahead of you. Brought you one of mine."

Still shaking from the near-miss in her sink, Nikki finally took stock of her friend. Perfectly coiffed as always-forever ready for her close-up-Meg held a skirt and blouse in her left arm. In her right, she carried a box of Ritz crackers.