Creepypasta: Nightmare Fuel

58: You Won't Hear About This On The News

You Won't Hear About This On The News by NoSleep-Throwaway

This is fucked up. This is so fucked up.

I'm writing this in my dorm room. It's way after lights-out, but I know damned well no one's going to bother to check, not tonight... not while the walls of our room strobe with blue light from the police cars in the parking lot and the building hums with tense anxiety.

My roommate's downstairs, talking to the cops. His name was at the top of the list, and they had questions for him. My name's on the list, too, but not nearly as high; I guess they'll get around to me.

I've got to figure out what I'm going to tell them.

I sure as hell can't tell them what I'm about to tell you guys.

I go to an all-boys private school in the southeast. It's about evenly split between day students (who live in town) and boarders (out-of-town students who live in dorms).

I'm a boarder... and this year, I'm in Stewart Hall, the oldest residence on campus. It's a real dump. They stick Juniors (eleventh graders) in there... I guess they figure that by then, you're too invested to bail.

To add to my bad luck, I got Kevin for a prefect.

Our prefects aren't like in Harry Potter: they're just seniors who volunteer to live in non-senior dorms. There's one per floor, and they're in charge of writing you up for rule violations, checking that you're home by curfew, that kind of stuff.

Kevin's one of those dudes who doesn't sneeze without considering how it would look on his application to Harvard. He applied early-decision in October, and ever since, he's been an even bigger walking panic attack waiting to find out if he was accepted.

Maybe the stress was what did it.

He's been a real pain in the ass, honestly. Dude looked like he'd chased five Adderall with a gallon of Red Bull and was handing out demerits by the bucketload.

He was paranoid as hell, too. We're allowed to go down to the vending machines after curfew, but Kevin would grill us anyway, convinced we were sneaking out even when we were holding the freaking Coke we'd gone down for. A guy down the hall had some leftovers go bad in his room, so he'd sprayed a bunch of air freshener... which convinced Kevin that the guy was smoking pot. Kevin kept trying to "bust" him, even though I'm pretty sure Kevin wouldn't know pot if it tapdanced naked on his dresser.

Point being, when Kevin started spouting all this shit about how someone was bringing a guy into the dorm at night, everyone thought it was just more of his paranoid crap.

I heard about it more than most of the others; my roommate Josh is the only openly gay dude on our floor, so he was Kevin's first suspect. I'm pretty sure that's what that list the cops found really is... just Kevin's theories about who might be sneaking that kid in.

Under the circumstances, though, I can't blame the cops for thinking something else.

Anyway, yeah... for some reason, one random day, Kevin just quit talking about the guy to anyone. We all thought he'd realized he was wrong and didn't want to admit it... especially when he started being way less of a tightass about rules than usual. We figured that was his backhanded way of apologizing for accusing everyone.

You could come in half an hour after curfew and he'd barely even look at you, just waving you down the hallway. Kevin really looked like shit, too... like he hadn't slept in weeks. I actually started to feel sorry for him, wondering what kind of type-A parents he must have to be so wrecked over getting into one particular college.