Heather stood in a small pool of light outside of the the university's AV building, staring nervously at the empty parking lot lit only by a few elderly, flickering sodium lamps. Although winter had technically ended weeks ago the nights were still cold and wet here but the weather wasn't what was causing her hesitation. She had an animation assignment due in a few days and her cheap laptop would have taken forever to render things. Working on it in the school's computer lab had taken hours and she'd lost track of time. While she was working darkness had fallen and everyone else had already left for the night.
Heather pulled her hood up and fiddled with the zipper on her coat. She knew that she was hesitating but the thin mist spreading across the parking lot caused her heart to race. In her head, she knew that it was nothing out of the ordinary for this time of year and that it was only a ten minute walk to her dorm. But that didn't stop her palms from sweating and her stomach from tying itself into knots.
She took a deep breath and picked a random number and started doubling it. It was a trick taught to her by a therapist…they had eventually given up trying to help her but she at least found this technique useful. Seven. Fourteen. Twenty-Eight. Fifty-Six. One Hundred and Twelve. She kept going until she passed ten thousand, the math keeping her from imagining unseen threats lurking in the fog. Once her breathing and heart-rate slowed she reached into her pocket, feeling a familiar, comforting weight there and pulling it out.
It was a small radio. Her first radio had been a bulky, decades-old device that broke a few weeks after she found it. As soon as she realized it wasn't working she purchased a new one and kept it, and a pack of spare batteries, on her at all times. This one was a slim, black pocket model, complete with a pair of earbuds. She popped one into her left ear and turned the radio on.
When she heard the sound of terrible, mass-produced bubblegum pop, clear and without distortion, she let out a breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding. With the radio playing in her ear she started counting again.
Seventeen.
Heather stepped out of the pool of light around the entrance to the building and started to walk briskly through the parking lot.
Thirty-Four.
Heather froze when she saw a figure standing, eerily still in the distance under the light of a street-lamp. But the panic only lasted a second until the figure moved and she could make out a student talking quietly on their cell phone.
Sixty-Eight.
She rounded a corner and could see her building, the area lit by the light pouring from the windows of the student dorms. Heather couldn't help but seek out her window, imagining the possibility of a figure silhouetted against the light from the room. Fortunately the window was empty.
One-Hundred and Thirty-Six.
Heather swiped her ID card and hurriedly stepped into the dorm. She walked straight past the elevator…stairways could be stressful but that was unthinkable.
Two-Hundred and Seventy-Two.
She cranked up the volume on her radio to drown out the echoing sound of her footsteps in the empty stairwell. She steeled herself…a few months ago a storm had cut the power while she was in the stairwell. When another student found her there in the dark Heather had beaten her almost unconscious with her book-bag.
Five-Hundred and Forty-Four.
She was on her floor now and couldn't help but break into a jog. Almost there. Almost safe.
One-Thousand and Eighty-Eight.
She stopped, key in hand, just in front of her door. She couldn't push aside the image of someone or something waiting for her inside. Her hand trembled on the wood of the door as she held the key just outside the lock. The radio continued to play chipper music in her ear about girl power and cute boys.
Two-Thousand, One-Hundred and Seventy-Six.
Four-Thousand, Three-Hundred and Fifty-Two.
Eight-Thousand, Seven-Hundred and Four.
Her indecision was broken by the sound of a footsteps down the hall. She jammed the key home and yanked the door open. She slammed it closed behind her and leaned against it, slowly sliding to her knees. She kept counting as her breath came in huge, desperate gulps. As far as panic attacks go, this was one of the bad ones.
Desperate, she crawled towards her bed and reached underneath, pulling out a dented aluminum baseball bat. She would have preferred a shotgun, but the school would have gone nuts if it was found. Clutching the bat to her she crawled to a corner where she could see both the doorway and the window at the same time.
The room was empty. Her last roomate had requested a transfer three months ago and most of the previous ones didn't even last that long. The administration wasn't willing to address Heather's "eccentricities" for fear of being painted as unsympathetic to mental illness, so they just quietly accepted any transfer requests once her roommates became fed up. This didn't usually take long between Heather's night terrors, panic attacks and antisocial behavior.
Heather stayed huddled in the corner for almost ten minutes, counting higher and higher until she finally regained control of her breathing and stopped imagining what could be shambling through the hallways. Still holding the bat she started to climb to her feet, her knees shaking.
That's when new feelings hit her, arousal washing over her in a hot wave. Her jacket was suddenly stifling and she could feel her bra and shirt tight over her breasts. It felt like her jeans and panties were digging into her crotch and she could already tell that her underwear was soaked through. It had been like this for over a year now. Each panic attack followed by this uncontrollable craving. She quickly stripped her jacket off and yanked her shirt over her head, trying to escape the heat of her own body. Her face and neck were flushed and it quickly spread to the top of her breasts, her hard nipples were outlined by the fabric of her bra.
For the first couple of years after her father's death and her…experiences, she had isolated herself and had no social life to speak of. After finally getting into college (a tragic experience looks great on transcripts) she had promised herself that she wouldn't let the past keep her from experiencing the present anymore. She tried making friends, tried socializing and even went to senior party with a cute boy from one of her life-drawing classes.
The two of them had a few drinks and she let him guide her upstairs to an unoccupied bedroom. With the obnoxious bass thumping through the floorboards the two of them fumbled with one another. She giggled as he pawed clumsily at her breasts and kissed him, ignoring the sour taste of beer on his tongue as he stuck it into her mouth. He had no technique or finesse but she was equally inexperienced and just was just drunk and horny enough to go along with it. There was a moment's hesitation when he unzipped his pants and flopped out his semi-hard dick but she managed to talk herself into attempting a blowjob.
She had knelt by the edge of the bed, holding his dick in her hands while he mumbled something about how hot she was. He was uncut and as she peeled the foreskin back she could see the glisten of pre-cum leaking from the tip. She leaned in to give it an experimental lick but then the smell hit her. It wasn't that it was dirty or foul…but it brought with it a wave of memories.
She remembered the Central Square mall, an old haunt of hers transformed into a decayed mockery, smeared in blood and bile and filled with horrors. Her path had led her to become trapped in a pit somewhere in the bowels of the building, clutching a handgun and covered in blood. The ground shook and one of the metal fences was torn free, revealing the most terrifying and massive creature she had ever seen: a gigantic, serpentine worm. The huge beast's head split apart, skin folding back obscenely to reveal a disturbingly human-like set of teeth which drooled streamers of clear slime. As she backed away in horror, fumbling desperately to reload with inexperienced fingers, the smell of the thing hit her like a wave.
It was the same scent she smelled that night in some stranger's bedroom trying to impress some drunk frat boy with her non-existent sexual talents. Her screams were loud enough to alert the entire party and she had smashed the confused boy in the head with a nearby desk lamp. At first everyone had assumed she was the victim of a date-rapist but she eventually managed to convince the police not to arrest him, showing them her purse full of prescription bottles. She never went to a party after that.
Back in the present, she leaned against the small sink set into one wall of her dorm and fumbled for one of those prescription bottles while rubbing desperately at the front of her jeans with the other hand. She finally managed to pop open the childproof cap one-handed, but then her trembling fingers slipped and the bottle dropped right into the sink.
"Fuck! No! Please, No!" She scrabbled desperately for the bottle but still couldn't bring herself to tear the other hand away from her pussy.
"Shit!" She screamed as the pills disappeared down the drain. She had been taking more than normal recently and was still days away from her next refill. The stream of frustrated cussing turned into desperate, animal noises as she curled up on the floor. The stress was also magnifying the desperate heat in her cunt and she fumbled at her zipper, pulling her pants halfway down her thighs and shoving her hand down the front of her panties. She groped through her pubic hair, already damp and matted, and her questing fingers found her hot, wet slit.
Her fingers worked desperately up and down her clit, rough enough to hurt but each swipe also sent a tight surge through her pelvis. She hated herself in moments like this, but stopping would be completely impossible. She tried to spread her legs wider but they were still tangled in her jeans and pulling them down further would mean taking her fingers away from her cunt.
Several minutes of this left her panting, her body jerking with the need to cum but the climax was just out of her reach. Just grinding away at her clit wasn't enough…she needed something deeper, harder. For a moment the baseball bat flashed through her imagination but she had enough self control not to try that. Instead she reached further down, pushing her middle and index finger into her wet pussy up to the second knuckle. She felt her body respond immediately, clenching around her fingers as she tried to push them further inside.
Heather curled her body forward, letting her arms reach further and with her free hand she reached underneath her bra, finding her erect nipple. She pinched it between her fingers and pulled, putting just enough pressure on it that it began to hurt but the sensation increased the intensity of her cunt's contractions. She wriggled her fingers, digging them deeper inside until she found the lump of her G-spot. She desperately worked her fingers within the tight, wet tunnel in circular motion. Her breathing was becoming ragged and her cunt gripped her fingers even tighter.
When the orgasm hit her Heather let out a harsh, involuntary sound half-way between a gasp and a yell, it was bestial and devoid of grace. The sound of a rutting animal. She bit her lip to stifle further sounds as more waves of pleasure hit her, rolling from her pelvis up her body and crashing over her head, leaving her dizzy, exhausted and spent.
For several minutes she just lay there. Her pants bunched around her knees, panties wet and tangled and her breasts pressed against the cold linoleum floor. Eventually she gathered her thoughts enough to kick her pants off and climb to her feet, almost slipping on the wet spot she had been laying in. All of her muscles were stiff and she was completely spent by fear and lust. It was all she could do to stumble over to her bed, collapsing on the rumbled sheets without even turning off the lights.
Her radio lay forgotten in the pocket of her jacket, the tinny stream of pop music still playing through the earbuds. As Heather began to drift off to sleep the music began to distort and stutter, devolving into a stream of hissing static.
Heather's dreams were rarely pleasant. She knew this because it wasn't uncommon for her to wake up soaked in sweat, screaming or even violently thrashing at her bedding. The one blessing was that her medication prevented her from remembering them, so whatever horrors visited her in the night would stay there.
But as soon as she found herself in the dream, Heather knew that tonight would be different. She could feel a cold certainty that she would remember every moment of what happened to her tonight. She was standing on a floor of dirty concrete tile, covered in unidentifiable stains and several deep, long gouges. Above her was a lone hanging light fixture, swaying gently on a wire that extended upwards towards an unseen ceiling. The bulb emits a stuttering electrical buzz and its dim, failing bulb only managed to provide a circle of light a few feet wide. Everything beyond was pitch-black.
Heather looked down at herself and briefly her fear was replaced with confusion. She wasn't wearing any of her usual outfits. Instead she seemed to be dressed in some sort of colorful cosplay outfit. The top was skin-tight spandex so thin that it was practically painted on, revealing every curve and outline underneath. Her chest was decorated with a bright pink heart, just below a plunging neckline that revealed most of her modest cleavage. Around her waist was a pink belt with a heart-shaped buckle which held up a skirt of flimsy fabric, short enough that she could immediately tell that there was no underwear underneath.
The ensemble was completed by a pair of bright blue boots, red gloves, and a massive pair of headphones covering both ears and topped with yellow, plastic spheres. It wasn't until her hands found the heart-shaped choker at her neck that everything clicked and she began to recognize the ridiculous outfit. She still had that choker, tucked away in a chest of mementoes from the time before her father died.
One of her favorite shows as a little kid was "Super Pretty Princess Maximum Heart", one of those cheesy shows from Japan shown on Saturday mornings with bad actors overdubbing it with a terrible English translation. During her pre-teen years it was all she could talk about and so, for Halloween one year her dad put together a home-made Princess Heart costume for her from old sheets and scraps bought from Goodwill. She had refused to take it off for days, running around the house and firing her "HEATHER BEAMU!" at imaginary monsters. Of course, the outfit her father had given her had been far more modest. This version of the costume was practically cling-film.
Before she could spend too long pondering the bizarre costume, the light fixture above began to flicker and dim.
"No, no, no!" Heather reached for the light, a pointless gesture of desperation. "Please!"
With a final buzz the light went out, leaving Heather in the dark. She was alone in an expanse of infinite darkness.
"Hello!" She shouted into the darkness. "Is anyone out there!?"
"Hello?"
There was no response.
Heather reached out, stumbling blindly into the darkness. Perhaps she could find a light or a door or just a corner to huddle in. Anything.
She stopped suddenly when the dull sound of her boots on concrete were replaced by a soft clank of metal. She immediately retreated, hoping to find her way back to firmer ground by the sound. But even after taking several steps back the way she came she could only hear the rattle of metal. The sound was hauntingly familiar and she slowly lowered herself into a crouch, gloved fingers probing the ground under her feet. The gloves were just as thin and flimsy as the rest of the costume and she could easily feel the cold metal grate she was standing on. The metal seemed to be corroded and crusted with some kind of flaky gunk.
There was a sudden gust of warm air, humid and thick with a metallic scent. The wind came from some unseen depths below, lifting her skirt and stirring her pubic hair with a disturbing intimacy.
"No…" Her voice was a hoarse whisper, "Not back here. Not again."
As though triggered by her realization there was a sudden sound in the darkness, the rumble of rusted machinery groaning to life. A series of dim red lights flicked on with the sound of old electrical relays slamming into position. The lights revealed an escalator, rising at least several stories into the darkness.
Heather appeared to be standing in the center of a long hallway. The floor was rusty metal grating, dented and torn in places, which seemed to be stretched over a bottomless darkness. To her left and right the hallway was lined with decaying chain-link fence and on the other side of the fence were…people? They stood on the very edges of the dim light, just beyond the fence, and it was difficult to make out any details but their silhouette caused Heather's heart to begin pounding even faster.
Their bodies seemed human in shape and proportion but they each wore what appeared to be a large mask, like a mascot. A mask with large plastic eyes that glinted in the light and huge, rabbit ears. Heather had seen these masks in her dreams before, just before her father's death and the living nightmare that followed. Her horrified fixation on the masks meant that it took her several seconds to realize that the people on the other side of the fence were wearing nothing other than their masks. The dim light made details difficult to make out but she could see that they were all men and appeared to be completely unmoving, standing just beyond the meager protection of the fence.
She turned around, looking behind her but a few yards from where she stood she could see the floor simply ended in a ragged tear, as though the grating had been completely torn away by some incredible force. While she stared hopelessly into the darkness there was a sound to her right, a faint rattle of rusty metal. She spun towards the noise, and took an involuntary step backwards…the same crowd of rabbit-masked men were standing on that side of the hall but now they were on her side of the chain link fence. They made no other movement towards her, but she could see that they were breathing and that they swayed very slightly back and forth.
Now that they were closer Heather could also see that they were each sporting large, intimidating erections.
Heather's first instinct was to run, to make a beeline for the escalator which seemed to be the only possible exit from this horrible place. But the rabbit-men were positioned all along this side of the hallway and if they lunged for her they would easily cut off any escape. Instead she cast her eyes to the floor, looking for some kind of weapon to defend herself: a rusty bit of pipe, a heavy blunt object or even just a jagged bit of metal that could serve as an improvised knife.
While searching fruitlessly for a weapon she heard the sound again…the same note of creaking metal as before. She turned her head slowly, her heart sinking further because she knew what would be behind her already. Sure enough, the rabbit-men from that side of the hall were now standing on her side of the fence. They were also standing still and each also pointed at her with their erect, aggressive cocks.
Heather whipped her head back to the first group. They were closer now, at least five feet nearer with no sign that they had moved at all. They were close enough now that Heather could see their bodies were streaked with dark stains, made impossible to identify under the red light. Their physiques varied wildly…some were huge and muscular, others flabby or skinny. One was even an old man, at least a foot shorter than the others and covered in wrinkles. But all stood stock still with cocks firmly at attention and pointed right towards her.
Heather was paralyzed. Having looked away from the ones behind her she knew without a doubt that if she looked back then she'd see they had also moved closer and then the ones in front of her now would likely move as soon as she looked away. But if she remained staring like this, would the rabbit-men behind her just continue to creep closer and closer until she looked? There was no way to watch both groups at once. Not daring to blink she stood trembling, eyes fixated on the row of men in front of her and her mind fixated on those behind her.
Eventually the stress became too much for Heather and she had to look, expecting to see grasping hands only inches away. They were closer now, just like the first group…perhaps a little closer. The very slender relief she felt that they were not mid-pounce quickly vanished when she felt a hot, damp breath on the back of her neck. It smelled foul and sweet, like a dumpster in the summertime: rotten soda, decaying food and hot metal. Heather spun around, instinct overwhelming any sort of rational decision-making.
They were inches away now, so near that the one right in front of her was close enough for her to see through the mask's mouth. There was no sign of human features, only a mass of indistinct flesh which bulged and rippled in the shadows of the mask. Its rigid cock was so close that she thought she could feel the obscene heat through the flimsy fabric covering her torso. She let out a thin, hoarse cry and stumbled backwards, raising her hands in a desperate attempt at self-defense. However, before she could make any attempt to fend off the rabbit-men in front of her she felt her back slam into hot, sweaty flesh. The figures behind her had instantly closed the distance and now she was caught between both of groups.
"Fuck you!" Heather's throat hurt with the intensity of her scream. She had fought horrors before and would not go quietly, "Fuck all of you! Leave me alone!"
She punctuated her words with blows from her fists. Although she had never been able to work up the courage to take any self-defense classes she was also surprisingly strong for her size. Shortly after her first nightmarish experience she had purchased a punching bag and would spend hours each week pummeling it with fists, feet and her baseball bat. It was a therapeutic experience and she had gone through a lot of bags since that first purchase. Even without finesse or skill her blows would have easily knocked the wind from most men.
They had no effect on these creatures. Her fists smacked uselessly against the chest of the nearest rabbit-man as though she were punching a
slab of dead meat. No reaction at all.
Despite that Heather did not ease off her flurry of blows and continued to pummel the man in front of her until her arms went limp, her energy completely spent. It was only then, with her limbs trembling from terror and exhaustion, that she realized that the rabbit-men were not coming any closer and had made no other movements at all. They stood motionless except for their breathing, the slight sway of their bodies and whatever was writhing underneath their masks.
Heather was now standing in between two long lines of rabbit-headed men standing on both sides of her. There was less than a yard of space between the two rows and it led all the way from where she stood to the base of the escalator. The array of erect cocks were close enough that she could barely avoid brushing against their tips as she stood in between the two groups. Her breathing was shaky as she tried to collect her thoughts, darting eyes looking out for any sign of movement from the rabbit-men.
The escalator was the only obvious means of escape. Even if she had wanted to try leaping from the edge of the grating into the darkness, that route was now blocked by several of the rabbit-men. But there was also no telling what action might break the stasis and cause the creatures surrounding her to attack. Indecision kept her locked in place, trembling.
Three.
She began her counting ritual, grasping at anything that might help calm her racing mind.
Six.
She needed to move.
Twelve.
There was no telling whether staying still or moving would be more dangerous, but nothing would change if she didn't move.
Twenty-Four.
She stepped gingerly forward, trying to avoid any contact with the rabbit-men. Especially the turgid pricks that lined her path.
Fourty-Five. Fuck, no Fourty-Eight.
She struggled to calm her breathing, inching forward at a glacial pace. The escalator groaned and rattled and hardly seemed to be any closer.
Ninety.
Heather bit her lip, trying to stay focused on her movement and not the cloying scent and heat of the figures on both sides of her.
One-Hundred and Eighty.
Wait, no it was…
Another gust of wind rose up from below the grate. It blew her flimsy skirt up into the air and as the air brushed her skin Heather realized that there was a trickle of liquid flowing down her leg. She hadn't realized it, but she was dripping wet. The thought made her want to vomit but she tried to shove it out of her mind and resume counting.
Two-Hundred…Two-Hundred…
Before she could get her thoughts back on track she set one foot down and suddenly lost her balance. A small tear in the grate caused her to stumble and, trying to stay upright, she instinctively bent forward and found herself leaning fully against the bare chest of one of the rabbit-men. Her body convulsed in shock and her fingers tightened on the figure's thick chest hair. Before she could come to her senses she froze in shock at a sudden, intrusive sensation.
Leaning forward had caused her to thrust her ass out behind her and the wind had already lifted up her skirt, leaving her wet pussy exposed. Now there was the sensation of a hard, hot cock pressed against the swelling opening of her pussy. It was just far enough that she could feel the tip of it starting to part her lips.
She had never felt something like this before. Although aggressive masturbation had long ago torn through her hymen Heather was still technically a virgin. The one, disastrous attempt at the party was the first and last time she had ever seen a man's dick in person. Now she could feel one throbbing against her wet cunt. There was no attempt to push it in any further, but for a second Heather imagined leaning back against it, feeling it push its hard length all the way inside of her, letting it stretch her open and fill her.
That thought caused a sudden realization, a vision of absolute certainty. This is what would release the creatures around her. If she gave in and started to push the cock inside then its owner would spring into motion. His huge, stained hands would grab her by the waist and slam her backwards, shoving his cock deep into her body. She would be unable to escape or resist as the rabbit-man jams his cock inside her again and again. Pain, shock and pleasure would cause her gasp and this would cause the rabbit-man in front of her to leap into action, snatching her by the hair and shoving her face down towards its own cock, forcing it through her gaping lips and into her throat.
In her mind she saw and felt herself being used by these two creatures. Roughly. Violently. They would cum at almost the same time, filling her pussy with hot, sticky wetness and pouring foul-smelling cum down her throat. Then they would step back, leaving her to collapse, coughing up cum, to the ground. Their work was done but there would be dozens of others. The next would reach down and tear off the thin, ridiculous princess heart costume, exposing her breasts. She would crawl to her knees and try and crawl away, but that would simply leave her exposed. The rabbit-man would shove her face to the ground with one hand and use the other to lift her ass into the air. Maybe it would shove its cock deep into her asshole or maybe it would fuck her pussy again, saving her ass for one of its companions. The possibilities sprawled out before her in a stream of visions of wild, horrifying clarity.
As this ran through her head the most horrifying thing was her face. She could see, in her mind's eye, that her face was locked into an expression of utter hunger and bliss. Her eyes rolled back as she was fucked by these creatures and as the barrage of brutal, rough sex continued she began to become an eager participant, lifting her ass and spreading her legs, reaching for the other cocks waiting in the wings to suck and stroke. She could see the lust and pleasure taking over her body and part of her wanted to feel it. Wanted to become that wild, mindless slut being fucked over and over again. All she had to do was to lean back, let the hard shaft slide up her slick cunt and it would all begin. The muscles of her legs and abdomen quivered, already on the edge of orgasm.
It felt like forever, but Heather managed to regain control of her body and slowly, carefully withdrew from the hard, intrusive lump. Pulling away was a mixture of relief, disappointment and disgust. The rabbit-men made no move to stop or restrain her as she regained her footing. In a feeble attempt to regain some measure of composure she smoothed her skirt back down, although it was barely long enough to conceal anything.
Although her mind had cleared a bit, Heather still stood trapped between dozens of the masked men. Before she could become paralyzed again by indecision, or by darker impulses, she took a deep breath and began to jog towards the escalator. As she ran she could feel the row of hard cocks slapping the sides of her waist but she ignored the sensation as best she could. Occasionally the uneven footing would cause her to stumble but she didn't allow herself a moment to lose momentum. Although it seemed to take forever, she escaped the crowd and stumbled, panting, onto the steps of the escalator.
Having reached her goal, Heather felt her adrenaline and determination drain away and for a while it was all she could do to lay on the rusty, rattling metal steps. She finally found the strength to rise on shaking legs and look back. She had already ascended what seemed to be several stories and at the base of the escalator stood the crowd of masked men. They had moved again and were all staring directly at her, although occasionally one would suddenly spasm or twitch wildly for a second or two. The lights behind her began to dim as well, swallowing the crowd in darkness.
The escalator continued to carry Heather to an unseen destination, with new lights flickering to life as the ones behind her began to fade. Although she could see no walls or ceiling she could occasionally see objects or shapes hanging in the air on either side of her, just beyond the range of clear vision. Occasionally one seemed to twitch or sway. There were no sounds other than the groaning and squealing of the escalator's tortured, aged machinery.
Then the escalator jolted to a stop, suddenly enough that Heather was almost sent toppling forward. The entire structure shook and rattled for a second with a horrifying noise of metal grinding against metal and then it went still and silent. Looking up, Heather could see the a landing, barely illuminated by the red lights.
It was not empty.
Standing on the landing was a figure. Its outline was masculine and powerful, the dim light catching the shape of thick, corded muscles. It seemed to be wearing a mask as well, although it was clearly not from a mascot costume. Heather could not make out any details but the odd, conical shape shape had an oily, unclean sheen in the red light. Every instinct screamed at her that this creature was dangerous…it would not allow her the luxury of making the first move.
Behind her she could hear the buzz of electricity grow quieter. Without even looking she knew that the lights were shutting off, one by one. The island of harsh, red light was growing smaller and smaller and the encroaching darkness behind her was not any more welcoming than the menacing form ahead of her.
She was trapped.
The thought should have driven her into a blind panic or a defiant rage, but Heather simply felt empty. There was no place to run and no strength left for a pointless fight. As the figure took a slow, deliberate step forward it was all she could do to lean against the railing of the escalator and close her eyes. Even the dark, twisted lust she had felt earlier was gone…it didn't matter what happened next. She could hear the sound of footsteps on metal as the creature descended the escalator towards her.
Heather?
The voice echoed through the darkness. It sounded familiar, but Heather couldn't identify it. Her eyes snapped open in surprise.
Heather, are you okay?
The voice was louder now, the ground shook with it and the lights above began to pop and explode, plunging the scene into darkness.
Heather, wake up!
And she did.
Heather sat up in her bed, nearly hitting her forehead on the bunk above her. There was a moment of complete disorientation as she struggled to separate dream from reality. Her eyes slowly began to focus and she realized that she wasn't alone.
"Hey, are you okay?" The girl was a stranger: probably a year or two younger with a skinny build and short hair that had been badly bleached and then badly dyed a patchy pink. Her expression was a mix of concern and nervousness. "Sorry, you just seemed to be having a really bad dream."
"What the fuck are you doing in my room!?" Heather tried to collect herself. The girl seemed oddly familiar for some reason.
"Oh, uh sorry." The strange girl took a step back at the heat in Heather's voice. "Did they not tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Heather pulled her clothes into something resembling modesty. "Who are you?"
"I'm...your new room-mate." The girl held out a hand. "My name's Cheryl. Nice to meet you."