Heather couldn't gather her thoughts. Her mind was still reeling from the nightmare and her body felt taut and sore from a combination of fear and unreleased sexual tension. She felt droplets of sweat running between her breasts and she could feel that her panties were bunched up and wet underneath her sheets.
The abrupt appearance of a surprise roommate in this condition would have been awkward and embarrassing enough. But that name: Cheryl. That name froze her solid, especially with the memory of that place still fresh in her mind from last night. That pit of festering nightmares that wore the mask of a town, which had swallowed up her father and almost did the same to her.
"Uh…" Cheryl finally broke the silence, slowly retracting the hand she'd been holding out for the last few awkward minutes. "Sorry, I guess this is kind of sudden. I tried to knock…"
Heather finally snapped out of her stupor, "Sorry! I didn't mean…it's just…" She fumbled over her words, unable to express the effect the name had on her. "…I wasn't expecting anyone."
"No one told you?" Cheryl seemed to be having difficulty deciding what to do with her unshaken hand and settled for fiddling with the straps of the backpack she had slung over her shoulder. "I guess it was on short notice...there was an accident at my dorm during the weekend and they had to find a place to stick me."
Heather ran her fingers through her hair and peeked at Cheryl from under her bangs. The girl looked normal enough. A shy, awkward late-teen or early twenty-something who was probably experimenting with the pink hair to try and stand out. Skinny, but without the curves that normally makes that appealing, and sporting freckles and a bit of a gap between her front teeth…features she probably hated. There were lots of girls like her at the university. Heather probably would have been one if she wasn't so haunted by her past.
"Oh shit, that sucks." Heather was still off-balance and only half-listening, letting her mouth run on autopilot. "What…uh…what happened?"
"There was…a fire." Cheryl shifted uneasily.
Heather shook her head, "Fuck. I'm being a complete weirdo, I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, running her hand through her hair before sticking it out to Cheryl, "I was just in the middle of a…weird dream."
Cheryl took her hand with a relieved smile and the two shook hands briefly. The smile was cute and genuine, a flash of beauty hidden by the bad hair dye and freckles. Heather checked surreptitiously to make sure her panties were still in place before shrugging off the blanket and climbing out of bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cheryl blush slightly and start glancing around the room.
"It's okay, I'm sorry to take away your solo dorm life." She looked at the bed. It was a bunk, with the upper level sporting a bare mattress. Even without a roommate, Heather always took the bottom bunk. With the violence of her night terrors, it simply wasn't safe otherwise. "Have you always had the place to yourself?"
"Ah…" Heather's last roommate had left without even saying anything. She simply came back from class two months ago and all of the girl's stuff was gone. "I used to…I mean…"
Heather sighed deeply and turned away from Cheryl, hugging her shoulders and collecting herself before she continued speaking.
"Look, I should really be up-front with you. I've been…going through some shit. And I take a lot of medication for it." Heather turned around, looking Cheryl right in the eyes, "But I still have episodes…and I'm not very good company."
"Oh. Uh…I think I know what you mean…" Cheryl smiled hesitantly and reached out to pat Heather on the arm, before thinking better of it and leaving her arm floating awkwardly a few inches away. "I…well…I'm willing to give it a shot if you are."
Heather hesitated slightly, still bothered by the ominous name. Of course, it was probably just a coincidence. She thought back, remembering a picture she found in a locked strongbox in the back of her father's closet. Photos of her father with a dark-haired woman and a young girl in a blue and white dress. They were smiling and happy. A family.
Pushing the dark thoughts from her mind, Heather caught Cheryl's hand and shook. There was no strange sensation or shock of recognition. Surely she would have been able to tell? It was just a hand.
"Yeah. Let's give it our best shot" Heather tried to smile reassuringly, "Anything I should know about you."
Cheryl flashed that cute, honest grin, "Sorry, I'm just kind of boring."
"Boring is good. I'd kill for boring some days."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
Heather laughed, "No, don't apologize. Seriously it's fine. You're going to have to put up with a lot of shit from me so apologizing is going to be my job."
Cheryl unslung her backpack and settled it on the top bunk, "I'm just glad to have a place to live after the accident. I thought I'd have to sleep in my car"
Heather picked up a pair of pajama pants from the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. "I promise I'll get things cleaned up in here. We should like…celebrate or something. Have a dorm-warming party. Do you uh…drink or anything"
"Oh…yeah. Totally. Just don't let me do shots, I get…uh…I might try to make out with you." Cheryl blushed, letting that statement hang between them for a moment. "But if that happens just toss me a microwave burrito to distract me."
Heather felt her own face heat slightly as well and was suddenly very aware of the fact that she still wasn't wearing pants, but she didn't want to offend by hurrying to cover herself, "Oh. Oh. Right. Well, we're definitely doing shots so I'll make sure to buy a few burritos first."
Cheryl smiled, her face getting a little bit redder, "Sure thing…I should run downstairs. I've got a few things to grab from the car."
"You need any help?"
"No, no. It's just like one duffle bag and a pillow. I'll be right back."
Cheryl left with an awkward little wave and Heather pulled her pants on and started picking up clothes and trash scattered across the floor. While she put out an effort to keep things clean when she was living with someone else she tended to let things run wild when she was on her own. After a few minutes, the hamper was creaking and the garbage can was overflowing with take-out boxes and glass bottles.
Heather was tucking the bat underneath the bed again when there was a knock at the door. A quick series of staccato raps in an odd, halting pattern almost like rapid-fire Morse code. The sound caused Heather to jerk up, almost cracking her head on the bedframe.
For a moment her heart raced and Heather had to count in her head a few seconds to remain calm. Cheryl probably just wanted to let her know that she was coming in. She let her breathing steady and waited for Cheryl to let herself in like she had this morning.
Instead, the rapid, erratic knocking came again. It almost seemed like the same pattern as before, although Heather couldn't recognize any tune she knew. The sound was sharp and loud and caused Heather's heart rate to spike again. She told herself that Cheryl had probably just forgotten her key or maybe just had her hands full but it was still difficult for her to get to her feet and approach the door. She stopped, shaking, a few feet away.
Four.
Eight.
Sixteen.
The knocking came again, wrecking Heather's concentration. Sweat was beading on her forehead and her ears were filled with the sound of her own heartbeat. She gritted her teeth and leaned into the doorway, peering through the peephole.
It wasn't Cheryl on the other side of the door.
The man on the other side was very tall and very close to the door so Heather could only see the very bottom of their chin, their neck and their chest. They were pale, dressed in a black suit and tie and they perfectly still, not even swaying slightly as they waited on the other side of the door.
Heather's knees almost gave out at the sight and she sagged against the door. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what this meant or who was waiting on the other side of the door. The knocking came again, echoing through her body as she leaned against the door. She let out a quiet sob and nearly collapsed to the floor.
But then she remembered that Cheryl would be coming up any minute now. She'd meet this person in the hallway, waiting in front of their door. At best it'd be mortifying for her to find Heather cowering in her room from a perfectly mundane and benign visitor. At worst…Heather shuddered at the thought of Cheryl facing some of the horrors she had seen in the past. For some reason, Cheryl's goofy, sweet smile popped into her mind. She felt ill at the thought of that smile being swallowed by the same darkness that had consumed her own life.
Of course, Heather reassured herself, there was nothing to fear and this was almost certainly someone knocking on the wrong door, or here to deliver something related to the room transfer. Heather got to her feet and, before another series of knocks could freeze her again, reached out and opened the door a crack.
The tall man on the other side of the door smiled at her, exposing a row of very white teeth, slightly longer than seemed normal. His lips were pale and thin but his gums were a bright, vibrant red. His skin was a pale gray his hair was a ragged mess of gray peppered with black. He had an unusually long and thin roman nose, long enough that it almost seemed like a prosthetic. His eyes were…normal.
"Heather Mason."
"Y-yes? I mean, that's me."
"It's so good to see you." The man smiled wider.
Heather waited several seconds for him to continue but eventually had to break the silence, "Can I help you?"
"I'm a friend of your family, Heather. I've been looking for you ever since I heard what happened to your father" The man's voice was very soft and rough, "I'm so sorry for your loss."
"You knew my dad?" Heather's throat tightened and she struggled to keep her voice steady. She met his eyes briefly but then found herself focused on his chin.
The man on the other side of the door smiled wider, "I know your family very well. I would love to take you out to dinner…I have so much I would like to talk to you about."
Heather shifted uneasily. She didn't particularly want to talk to a stranger about her father, or anything else for that matter. What's more, her anxiety had mostly passed, but now she was feeling the stirring between her legs and the sensation of moisture spreading into her already-damp underwear. She still hadn't put on a bra and she could feel her tight, aching nipples standing out against the fabric of her t-shirt. Talking to someone while she felt this way left her feeling unclean and embarrassed, as though she were walking naked through a garbage pit.
"I'm sorry, but I really don't have the time to visit. I've got plans tonight-"
He raised his hand, gently interrupting her, and leaned forward so that his face was almost touching the doorjamb. He was now directly at eye level with Heather, causing her to focus her attention on his nose. Somehow his smile got even wider than it was before and she could see the chapped skin of his lips crack, exposing wet, red flesh underneath.
"Heather. I understand." His nostrils flared slightly, as though catching a scent. The tiny gesture sent a horrified shiver through her body. He could smell her. The smell of her sweat, her fear and the smell of her wet, throbbing cunt. It was like he had shoved his head right between her legs and taken a deep breath. Heather wanted to slam the door directly in his face but managed to keep her self-control.
"I-I'm glad. I hope you didn't have to come far, but I need to get back to work."
"You've grown so much Heather." The man on the other side of the door spoke slowly, savoring the word 'grown' in a way that made Heather feel even more fouled. She imagined that she could feel his words, slimy and warm, crawling across her skin. "So much like her…"
"P-p-" Heather gritted her teeth and gathered herself, "Please. I just don't have the time to talk. Goodbye!"
With her last words, Heather shut the door firmly and slammed the deadbolt home. Her hands were trembling and she was on the edge of hyperventilating. She thought of looking through the peephole to make sure that the man on the other side of the door had gone away…but she couldn't build up the courage to look. The only thing worse than not knowing if he was waiting on the other side would be finding out that he definitely was waiting on the other side.
She slumped down at her desk, still cluttered with assignments and unopened envelopes, and put her head in her hands. Her pussy ached and tingled and she could feel her nipples rub painfully against the fabric of her shirt. She was hot, sticky and tense and wanted nothing more than to jam her hands into her panties and rub herself off.
But she couldn't. The memory of the man on the other side of the door was still fresh in her mind. His expression when he caught her scent. His disturbingly wide smile. His eyes. She couldn't get him out of her head and the thought of touching herself while that face filled her thoughts left her ill. And so she sat…hot, sticky, tense and frustrated.
She was snapped out of her unpleasant fugue by the sound of a soft thump at the door, followed by the sound of a key scraping for a keyhole.
"Heather? I'm coming in." Cheryl's voice was muffled by the door. Heather felt instantly ashamed that she had completely forgotten about Cheryl after the encounter with the man on the other side of the door. Heather hurriedly got to her feet as Cheryl opened the door, wishing she had taken the opportunity to put a bra on.
"Hi! Did you get everything?"
Cheryl came in, juggling a large duffle bag, a laptop bag and a box in colorful wrapping paper topped with a bow. "Yeah! This is all I've got. I hope you don't mind me bumming your fridge and microwave and stuff…most of my electronics got ruined."
Heather walked over and took the heavy duffle off of Cheryl's hands, causing the skinny girl to tip back as she regained her balance. "Here, let me get that. You can borrow whatever you need. Feel free to use the dressers too, I pretty much just wear three outfits."
"Thanks!" Cheryl's chipper energy was infectious and Heather could feel some of her tension releasing with the other girl around. "Here. This is for you I guess."
She handed Heather the colorful present, wrapped in red and yellow paper. It felt heavy and was difficult to balance, as though the weight inside kept shifting around. It had a black ribbon and a folded tag.
"What is it? Some kind of moving-in present? You really didn't have to."
"Oh? No, no." Cheryl laughed. "No that wasn't from me. It was just outside the door and so I figured it must have been for you. I haven't told anyone else I was moving her yet."
Heather had already started tearing off the wrapping but what Cheryl said made her freeze in place. Cheryl had turned away, already starting to unpack, and didn't seem to notice the effect her words had on Heather. Taking a deep breath to steady herself Heather turned away, hiding the box with her body. Her heart rate spiked and she could feel a hot pressure behind her eyes. The box wobbled in her hands as its weight shifted again and her fingers began to twitch and tremble.
Six
Heather focused on her counting exercise.
Twelve.
She could hear Cheryl chattering away in the background, something about cell phone trouble.
Twenty-Four.
Forty-Eight.
Ninety-Six.
Heather's hands stopped trembling. The package still wobbled slightly in her hands as though there were something inside rolling around.
One-Hundred Ninety-Two.
Three-Hundred Eighty Four.
Heather licked her lips and resumed peeling away the wrapping paper. The wrapping paper was pristine and glossy, each crease and fold was precise and professional, but the cardboard box underneath was peeling and heavily water-damaged.
Seven-Hundred Sixty-Eight.
The box had no tape or glue and once it was unwrapped Heather could simply unfold the layers of cardboard, revealing wadded up yellowing newspaper. The whole thing smelled of mildew and wet autumn leaves.
One-Thousand, Five-Hundred and Thirty-Six.
Heather took a deep breath and pulled away the top layer of newspaper, revealing the contents of the box. It was a strange metal pyramid, made up of six interlocking sections and whose faces were carved with odd-looking designs. Heather's eyes itched and watered but she couldn't pull her eyes away from the pyramid.
Three-Thousand and Seventy-Two.
The symbols whispered to her.
Six-Thousand, One-Hundred and Forty-Four.
She could almost make out their meaning.
Twelve-Thousand, Two-Hundred and Eighty-Eight.
They were names.
Twenty-Four-Thousand, Five-Hundred and–
"What's in the box?"
Cheryl's words snapped Heather out of her reverie. For a moment she didn't remember what she had been doing and stared in confusion at the box and the weird…paperweight? But the thing gave her a bad feeling and the thought that it must have been left by the man on the other side of the door gave her an unpleasant shiver.
Acting quickly she put the box on the ground and slid it far under the bed. She turned to face Cheryl who was setting up her toiletries around the sink.
"Oh…it was just a…" She couldn't think of a convincing lie. "I'm not sure. I'll take a look at it later."
Fortunately, Cheryl didn't seem interested in pushing the topic. Instead, she gestured at the sink. "Is the mirror broken or something?"
She was referring to the small wall mirror above the sink. It was covered in a black plastic garbage bag, which had been secured by several layers of black duct tape. Heather had covered within hours of moving in.
"Something like that," Heather responded. She hoped Cheryl would drop the subject there.
"Oh, that sucks." Cheryl put her toothbrush in the metal holder next to the sink. "It looks like you've got a leak or something too."
"Wait, what?" Heather came up behind Cheryl, peering around the smaller girl. "A leak?"
Cheryl was right. A thin trickle of water was flowing from underneath the rim of the mirror and dribbled down to the sink below. The water was stained with rust and was already leaving a reddish residue on the sink and wall. Heather opened up the cabinet covered by the wrapped mirror and traced the path of the flowing water. The back of the cabinet, near the top, had a small hole that was dribbling a slow, but steady, stream of ruddy water.
"Fuck! When did this happen?" Heather rubbed at the stains with a bit of tissue but it was stubborn and just left red streaks.
"Can we call an RA or maintenance or something?"
"Not until Monday, not unless its an emergency."
"Uggh." Cheryl moved back to her duffle. "The dorms here are such a garbage dump. Living on campus is such a scam."
"It can't have been going on long. Hopefully, it's a simple fix."
For the next half-hour, Heather helped Cheryl unpack and get settled into the dorm. The fire had left her without much in the way of belongings…just a few mismatched outfits and a few basics that the school had bought for her. Fortunately, she had her backpack with her course books and laptop with her when the fire happened and those were spared.
For the next few hours, they talked. Well, mostly Cheryl did the talking. She chatted about her old roommate (Who had ended up at a different dorm), the classes she was taking and bits of cheap gossip about her teachers. Heather just made encouraging noises when there was a pause in the conversation and provided the occasional laugh or outraged exclamation as needed.
Eventually, the conversation faltered and the two decided to pop in a video. Cheryl admitted that she'd never seen anything by Terry Gilliam and so Heather insisted on correcting this character flaw, so before too long she was digging through her DVD collection looking for Time Bandits.
Heather laid lengthwise on her bed while Cheryl settled into a beanbag on the floor. As the credits began, Heather remembered something and opened up the bottom drawer of her desk, retrieving an unlabeled bottle of clear liquid and some shot glass-sized plastic Solo cups. She filled both and handed one to Cheryl before downing the second one herself. There was a split-second before the heat of the alcohol ripped its way down her throat and settled into her stomach. Her eyes watered and she grunted from the pain.
Cheryl tried to follow suit but as soon as the clear liquid hit her mouth her eyes widened and she began to sputter and cough. Heather smacked her on the back as her face twisted from the taste.
"Holy fucking shit!" Cheryl eventually managed, her voice raspy. "What the fuck is this, Draino?"
Heather laughed and poured herself a second shot, "It's Everclear. 190-proof."
Cheryl goggled at Heather as she downed another shot, flinching only slightly from the heat and the taste. "Fuck, I didn't think anyone actually drinks this stuff straight."
Heather smiled and pulled a can of ginger-ale from the minifridge by the TV and mixed Cheryl a crude mixed drink in a larger plastic thermos. "The way I see it, all alcohol basically tastes like shit and only exists to get you drunk. This way I can just get over it and get from sober to wasted ASAP."
Cheryl sipped her cocktail, still wincing at the taste but managing to keep it down, "So I guess you're not a wine person, huh?"
Heather made a dismissive noise with her lips, already feeling pleasantly light-headed. "Fuck wine. It's just bad grape juice."
Cheryl laughed and took another drink. The two watched the movie and by the David Warner turned into a giant, arrow-studded tomato the bottle was half empty. Heather was now laying on her back, feet in the air, with her head next to Cheryl's. She looked over at Cheryl, watching the light from the TV play over her face. She was trying to focus on the movie but her eyes were half-lidded and her head was wobbling slightly from time to time.
Heather inhaled, about to say something but then hesitated. However, the relaxing warmth filling her brain wouldn't let her stay silent.
"Uhm…sorry." She murmured.
"For what?" Cheryl looked over at her, voice slightly slurred.
Heather decided to bail and change the subject, but then she realized that she was already talking. "I just…I forgot to get you any frozen burritos."
"Oh." Cheryl had an expression of polite confusion but it slowly changed as Heather's words seeped through the haze left by the everclear. "Oh…that's…that's too bad."
Heather became very aware that the two of them were only inches away from one another.
Cheryl opened her mouth slightly to say something but didn't seem to know what to say.
"I guess…you did warn me." Heather could smell the mixture of alcohol and ginger-ale on Cheryl's breath.
"Well, I don't want to-"
Cheryl was interrupted when Heather leaned in, clearing the few inches that separated them and pressing her lips against hers. Cheryl responded eagerly, opening her lips and allowing Heather to take the lead.
Their kisses were awkward, with Heather hanging over the edge of the bed and Cheryl twisted around in a beanbag chair, but both of them threw themselves into it with a desperate desire that more than made up for any lack of technique. Heather lost herself in the experience, in the feeling of Cheryl's soft lips on her own and the taste of sugar, alcohol and a hint of apple lip-balm.
Then Cheryl let the tip of her tongue flick out, running it lightly along Heather's bottom lip. The sensation ricocheted through Heather's body like a bolt of lightning, arcing from her lips, down to her stomach and then settling over her nipples and between her legs. Her body became even warmer than before and her mind went blank, overwhelmed by the glow of alcohol and the tight heat in her pussy.
Her hand moved across the bed, slowly and hesitantly as though she were reaching out to pet a strange animal and didn't want to frighten it away. Her fingers met Cheryl's arm, sending a tingling sensation shooting up her arm and spreading a wave of heat across her face and chest. She kept moving, up Cheryl's arm, to her shoulder and the slowly, slowly sliding down the front of Cheryl's t-shirt. She hesitated when she felt the gentle swell of Cheryl's small breast and then the outline of her bra under the shirt. But Cheryl made a low, appreciative sound in her throat and opened her mouth wider beneath Heather's. Tentatively, their tongues met, flicking and sliding gently against one another.
Heather reversed direction and moved her hand back up toward's Cheryl's shoulder and traced the outline of her collarbone before sliding it under Cheryl's v-neck collar. Cheryl's skin was cool and dotted with sweat. As Heather moved her hand lower she could feel her breathing intensity and her heartbeat quickened, matching Heather's own.
Cheryl made another happy, sensual noise and slipped an arm behind Heather's neck, running her fingers through Heather's messy hair. The sensation caused a wave of prickling tension through her neck and back, instantly raising the hair on her neck and arms.
Heather's hand finally found the edge of Cheryl's bra underneath her shirt and slipped beneath it. Cheryl's breasts were small and even Heather's petite hands could completely cover one. She seemed to be exceptionally sensitive, moaning against Heather's mouth when her probing fingers found one of her hard, erect nipples. Heather was cautious, running her fingers lightly along the rim of her areola and raising a trail of goosebumps on the girl's skin.
Cheryl gave another moan, which turned into a gasp of excitement and briefly broke contact with Heather's lips. Heather took the opportunity to lower her head, kissing the nape of Cheryl's neck and moving to her earlobes when Cheryl turned her head to give her easier access.
Heather's own body was going wild. The sexual frustration from earlier had returned with a vengeance and her body, already warm from the alcohol, was practically on fire. She wanted to rip her pants and…and…
For a moment, Heather cleared some cobwebs from her head, briefly stumped over what to do next. Her fingers continued to twirl over Cheryl's nipples while she nuzzled the girl's neck…but she found herself caught by indecision. She had barely any experience to speak of and even in her fantasies she had never thought that her first time would be with another girl. Should she take off Cheryl's clothes? Take off her own? Would they do…mouth stuff? Was that what lesbians did? Was she a lesbian now?
Her thoughts were interrupted by another groan of pleasure from Cheryl and she smiled to herself. She was barely touching the girl and she was already losing it, so she must have been doing something right.
"Oh…oh…fuck…" Cheryl panted, eyes closed and head lolling against the bed, "Heather…oh God, that feels so good. I think I'm getting close…"
Heather's self-congratulation was replaced by confusion. She didn't know much about lesbian sex but she was pretty sure that most people didn't come after making out and a few minutes of light nipple-play. Cheryl moaned and Heather could feel her tremble under her hands. She really did seem to be on the cusp of climax.
"God-damn girl," Heather pulled away gently, trying to gather her thoughts. "I thought we were just getting started."
"Oh! Ooooh…Heather." Cheryl moaned, apparently oblivious to what Heather was saying.
"Uh…Cheryl?" Heather pulled her hand free of Cheryl's shirt but this didn't seem to stop her from writhing in pleasure. "Cheryl, are you-"
She trailed off as the final credits of the movie suddenly clicked off. The screen had gone black with a "No Signal" indicator floating in the middle. The picture jittered, pixels tearing and flickering. Without the sound of the movie in the background, Heather could hear something else…a pulsing, wet noise. The noise of moist flesh moving against moist flesh.
One of Cheryl's hands were draped behind Heather's neck and the other was splayed over the mattress. With growing dread, Heather turned her head and peered down at Cheryl's waist. It was difficult to see in the flickering light of the TV, but she could make out the thing wrapped around Cheryl's leg. It was a long, ropelike tendril with black, shining skin like an eel. It curled around Cheryl's leg and slipped under her waistband. Heather could not see what it was doing underneath her pants but she could see it pulse and throb under the cloth, working between Cheryl's thighs. Her eyes followed the tendril back to its source but it vanished into the darkness underneath the bed.
Cheryl gasped for air and arched her back, gasping and twitching as an orgasm washed through her. Heather let out a strangled scream and shoved herself backward, huddling in the corner as her arousal gave way to fear. Cheryl continued to spasm with ecstasy and, seemingly unaware of Heather's distress, slipped down her beanbag chair and feel out of sight below the edge of the mattress.
This is a dream.
She tried to comfort herself with this, but she could tell it was a lie as soon as the thought popped into her head. This was real. She had seen horrors in dreams and the waking world and knew the difference.
Fighting off her fear, Heather lunged across the bed, grabbing the bottle of everclear and hefting it like a club. She crawled to the edge of the bed and looked down, ready to smash the horrifying tentacle that was violating Cheryl.
Cheryl was still on the ground, breathing heavily as the aftershocks of orgasm began to fade. She was lying flat on her back and she had twisted around so her lower half was now underneath the bed. However, judging by her moans and trembling, the tentacle was still doing its work out of sight.
"Cheryl!" Heather called, trying to reach down without leaving the mattress herself, "Cheryl, I need you to take my hand!"
"Mmmm?" Cheryl finally seemed to hear her and her brow wrinkled slightly in confusion. "Heather?"
"Cheryl, please!" Heather cried, trying to grab at the other girl's arms which were splayed out of her reach. "You've got to get it together."
Cheryl opened her eyes, an expression of confusion and mild distress replacing ecstasy. "Heather? What's going o-"
Before she could finish her sentence Cheryl's eyes popped open in shock and fear, her mouth opening wide in complete horror. Before she could even scream she was suddenly yanked violently beneath the bed, vanishing out of sight.
"Cheryl!" Heather shrieked and she was finally spurred to leap off the bed, crouching to peek underneath, hoping to catch a glimpse of her roommate.
Cheryl was gone.
The tentacle was gone.
Heather let out a wordless cry of frustration and fear and grabbed her phone, lighting up the screen and shining it beneath the bed. The light flickered and stuttered, but it was sufficient to illuminate the only thing under the bed: the strange metal pyramid.
It was unfolded, all four sides laying flat on the ground. The "floor" of the pyramid did not exist. Instead, it opened into a fleshy, pulsating tunnel about half a foot wide. As Heather watched the pyramid snapped back to its original configuration, folding up violently like a triggered mousetrap.
Heather was alone again.