AN: Happy Halloween!

Kinda sad I couldn't finish this in the time I originally planned, but I think five chapters in less than a month is pretty good! Not much left, I think. I hope you enjoy this! =) I think this chapter is more creepy than it is scary—Idk

Chapter 5

Padmé sat in front of her wide mirror, softly brushing her hair and finishing her makeup; her reflection giving her a pleasant feeling.

It had been a long time since she last felt so good; her mind at the moment focused in simple things—like making herself prettier for her boyfriend.

She was making sure the black line over her eyelid was perfect—that always proved to be a challenge for her. She had the radio on, She's not There by The Zombies was playing; that song was already old and a classic by the year 1972, and Padmé knew the lyrics by heart.

Behind the music and her own singing she could hear Artoo and Threepio's soft barking, which only contributed to making her good mood grow.

She was now putting on lipstick, the song was almost over… then it ended. And no new song followed. That was weird, Padmé thought.

Artoo and Threepio also stopped their cute barking.

The new silence took quite a lot from Padmé's good mood. She ignored the sudden shudders that begin attacking her; she saw only her pretty face in the mirror, one eye had more blue shadow, she tried to fix it; she did it, everything seemed just fine… then—

"Buh!" a loud cry came behind her, just as another face showed in the mirror.

Padmé screamed and stained her face with the eye shadow.

"Goddamn!" she cried when she recovered from the surprise.

The silence died as a young joyous laugh covered the room.

"You're the most annoying person in the world," Padmé said, cleaning the blue stain on her cheek. Her friend laughed and helped her.

"But you love me nonetheless," Dormé said, smiling comfortably.

"Where have you been?" Padmé asked.

Dormé's smile grew. "Actual heaven," she said. "I think I might be falling in love," she giggled.

"I assumed that much," Padmé smiled. "You should've called us, though. Cordé's been looking for you all day."

"Really? Well, she did a terrible job then."

"So who's the lucky man?"

"I am not telling."

"You don't remember his name, do you?"

Dormé barely blushed. "I think it rhymes with Tyron—whatever. Are you going out?"

"Yes. I have a date with Anakin."

"Cool. You could look better though."

Padmé barely looked offended. "Well, this is why I usually ask Cordé to do my makeup. She's way better than me."

"Where is she anyway? Is she in the house?"

"I don't know."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. It was another sorority sister.

"Padmé?" Teckla's shy voice was heard. "Can I come in?"

Padmé blushed at the memory of what happened earlier. "Yes, Teckla. The way is clear now," she laughed.

"Oh, hi Dormé," Teckla greeted.

Dormé glanced and smiled at the younger girl in acknowledgement.

"Have you seen Mrs. Mothma?" Teckla sounded almost irritated. "My dad keeps calling and he's getting angry. He's thinking of driving here to speak to her!"

"Why?" Padmé asked.

"Well, he must think our house mother is like our baby sitter. He thinks Mrs. Mothma shouldn't disregard us so much."

"I am surprised she hasn't returned yet," Padmé said.

Dormé listened to the conversation in silence; her face little by little gaining a quality of shock.

"Oh my God!" she then cried. "Padmé, Teckla, call all the girls in the house! Now!"

"Why?" they both asked Dormé.

"I need everyone to be here before I speak. Oh hurry or I might explode!"

Padmé and Teckla did as Dormé asked them. They called every girl and they all got together in the living room, waiting for whatever it was Dormé was about to tell them. The only missing one was Cordé—

"You all must be seated for this," Dormé announced when her sorority sisters demanded her to speak at last. "Girls, this is huge! Oh I've been dying to tell you guys about this!"

"Oh just say it," Padmé pressed. "I have to finish getting ready for my date."

"This might kill some of you," Dormé said, speaking in a serious voice that amused some of her friends, while it annoyed another ones, one of them Padmé. "Teckla, cover your ears. You shouldn't listen to this."

Teckla looked down, embarrassed, hating that once again she was the target for someone's teasing.

"No one has seen old Mon since last night's party. Right?"

The girls nodded.

"I think I might have an idea of where she is. Well, not exactly where, but I do know…"

"Goddamn, Dormé, just say it!" Padmé was now truly out of patience.

"She's with a man!" Dormé cried, unsure of how else she could share her gossip. "I heard her last night! Good God, I heard Mothma having sex!"

There was a series of gasps, laughs, and words of denial.

"I think I might need therapy," Dormé went on, and now she couldn't continue using that serious voice, she was giggling at every word. "The noises she made… My oh my!" the young carefree girl laughed when she looked at Teckla, red as a tomato for the knowledge just "learned".

"Dormé, even if it's true," one of the sisters said. "You shouldn't tell us, let alone laugh about it."

"Ugh, why not?" Dormé complained.

"There's such a thing as privacy," Padmé said.

Dormé rolled her eyes. "I wish Cordé was here," she said, spitefully as her smile was erased. "She would think it's funny."

Some of the girls started asking Dormé and Padmé about their missing roommate. It was very odd that neither knew where she was.

"Maybe she's in one of the fraternities," Padmé said. "After all, she was looking for you, Dormé."

"She was also looking for Mrs. Mothma," another girl said.

"Oh don't mention her again. I swear I can almost hear her moans in my head!" Dormé cried.

"Dormé!" the girls exclaimed, in shock.

"I swear! You want me to imitate her—"

There was a series of "No!" "Yeah!" "Eww!" all behind loud female laughter, till a girl screamed, getting their attention.

"What, Teckla?" Dormé said in a mocking voice. "I told you, you should cover your ears. These are adult themes, after all."

"I just wanted to say," Teckla said, hurt and ashamed. "There's a phone ringing."

None of the girls noticed it, but Padmé's face went pale under her beautiful makeup. She slowly walked towards the door; her old fear and shudder coming back stronger than ever. All previous peace and good mood already evaporating.

"I think it's coming from upstairs," a girl said.

"Isn't that from your room?" Teckla said, looking at Dormé.

"Oh yeah," she said. "I'll be right back."

Padmé's heart was beating in her ears; she stood where she was on the door, determinate on not letting anyone out. "Don't," she said, oddly.

"Why not? Maybe it's Cordé."

"Or Mothma."

Padmé breathed in and out. "I'll go answer it," she said with determination. She walked out, careful of closing the door behind her so that no one would follow.

She climbed the stairs with a shaky step, slowly and unwillingly, praying that the loud ringing noise would die by the time she reached her bedroom.

But it didn't. She even stood in front of the phone for a long time before even thinking of picking it up.

At last, the caller grew tired, and the noise died.

Padmé let out a sigh of relief; she threw herself in her bed, but then—

The noise of a ringing phone made her jump. She ran and picked it up, but to her surprise, no one had called on that line.

There were only two phone lines in Kappa Kappa Delta; Padmé had personally asked her father, Mr. Naberrie, to put a phone in her room so that she could talk to her family often.

The other phone was for everyone's use. It was in the living room.

Padmé ran as fast as she could down the stairs, she was almost crying by the time she opened the door and met her sorority sisters again; and she saw them.

They were all circled around Dormé as she held the phone for everyone. They could all very well hear what the caller was saying—or more than saying, doing.

"Shhh," Dormé said, holding a finger in front of her mouth, as she saw Padmé enter. With a hand movement, she motioned her roommate to get closer. Padmé did it.

The sorority girls looked for the most part, fascinated, amused, bewildered.

Except for one.

Teckla's face was of pure horror, as she heard the caller moan in a loud and unnatural manner.

Padmé shared that awful feeling, and to an even greater extent.

"You need to get some," Dormé laughed as she brought the phone closer to her ear again. "None of us are that desperate. Goodbye, man. Stay mad!"

She hung up the phone and a loud continuous laughter covered the room.

"Shit, there are so many freaks out there," Dormé muttered, staring at Padmé. "Did Cordé call?"

Padmé shook her head, weakly. The phone rang again.

"Please don't answer it," Teckla pleaded, mirroring Padmé's haunting thoughts.

Dormé had planned on ignoring the call, but she saw an opportunity to tease and annoy Teckla again. She picked it up; it was obvious it was the same strange caller from before.

The same sinful moaning came from that strange man's voice, then shrill screams… and then—Good God!

"Oh my God," Teckla muttered in a whisper so low no one heard her. The poor teenager was growing terrified.

As was Padmé.

"Eww," Dormé said, getting the phone as far from her face as she could. "He's not alone!"

It was so obvious. As now a female voice could also be heard. And she was… I guess the sound that came from her can be described as a quiet scream—if that makes any sense.

"I killed them," finally the caller spoke, and smiles disappeared from the girls—save for Dormé, though her smile had a certain nervousness to it. "They're all dead! I killed them!" the caller's voice was too strained for anyone to recognize it—well, almost everyone.

"Fuck," Dormé muttered. "This isn't funny anymore, man. Leave us alone!"

"She's not there," the caller groaned. "Please don't bother in trying to find her. She's not there."

"Who?" Dormé asked.

Tears fell down Padmé's cheeks, as her mind begin conjuring horrible—though not so impossible ideas.

There was a really long silence, and irritated, Dormé hung up.

"What the fuck—"Dormé couldn't finish her curse. The damn phone rang again!

"She's dead," the caller said after another series of sinful and disturbing moans. "Dead. Dead. Dead."

"Who are you, you freak?!" Dormé cried, not sounding afraid, but bothered.

"Vader." The caller whispered so lowly, Dormé had to repeat her question. "Vader." The stranger's voice was louder. "Vader!" he now screamed in a voice so richly dark and strained the girls thought he must've been at least in his forties or fifties. "Vader! I am Vader! I killed them!"

"Dormé, hang up the phone!" Teckla cried, tears streaming down her sweet frightened face. "Please, he's crazy!"

Dormé's anger died as amusement and laughter reached her.

She would've allowed for the caller's mad confessions and cries, but a shaky hand snatched the phone from her hand, as Padmé harshly hung up the phone.

"What's the matter?" Dormé laughed. "It was just getting interesting."

"I think we should call the police," Teckla cried, cleaning the tears from her face.

"What? Why?"

"Didn't you hear—"

"Oh, little girl! Dormé snapped. "It was just a bored old man looking for some fun with a bunch of sorority girls. He's probably calling from his mom's basement."

"He sounded so crazy!" Teckla couldn't disguise her great fear.

"He most likely is. But harmless—"

"Why isn't Mrs. Mothma here?!" the young girl cried. "Oh she should be here…"

"You need an adult, Teckla?" Dormé laughed cruelly.

Now Teckla held her tongue and said nothing. She bit her nails nervously and inwardly wished she was at home, safe with her mother and father.

She tried to hide herself from the rest of the girls; she walked to the window and stared at the night that was approaching. Though spring and summer days were usually really long in LA, fall and winter had even longer dark nights…

The nineteen year old jumped when she felt a sudden hand touch her back. She turned and saw Padmé, and in her pretty face, there were marks and signs of weeping. "Come on, Teckla," she said slowly. "If you want, of course."

"What, Padmé?" Teckla asked, weakly.

"I am gonna report that Mrs. Mothma has been gone all day. Do you want to come with me?"

The crying girl nodded, weakly and meekly.

Padmé and Teckla stood outside Kappa Kappa Delta, that chilly Sunday night of 1972, a pang of doubt haunting each young girl, though in very different ways.

"Do you really think it was just a prank call?" Teckla asked, looking at Padmé as if she had the answers to everything.

Padmé thought it best to soothe her with a lie. "I am sure," she muttered.

They stared back at the house.

"Do you think they are gonna be alright?" was Teckla's next question.

"Yes," Padmé said, looking at the beautiful house she once saw as a place of sisterhood and freedom. Now of fear and doom. She sighed as she separated her glance from the sorority house, and she and Teckla started walking.

Night was truly black and cold now, as Padmé and Teckla walked around campus; they didn't talk much, they just thought and thought of things they'd much rather forget.

Padmé felt her head was going to explode, or her heart would stop, air just wouldn't continue to reach her lungs—

"Uh, oh," Teckla muttered, somewhat easing Padmé and interrupting her pain.

"What honey?" she asked.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"What? Why, Teckla?"

"You had a date tonight…"

Padmé was sure her head would indeed explode, her heart had stopped, there was no air…!

Padmé gasped. "Oh Anakin…" she muttered, looking down and blinking away tears. "Fuck! Oh, I am so stupid! How could I forgot?!"

"Will he be very mad?" Teckla asked, sheepishly.

Padmé stopped her pacing, taking a moment to breathe more normally…

"Are you tired?" Teckla asked, innocently. "I am, actually, we should rest."

Padmé got on her knees, and then she threw herself on the green, fresh grass.

She could notice how the action didn't help at all, as her breathing only got more rapid… more strange… she felt smothered even in that chilly evening. The cold wind did nothing to the drops of sweat that covered her forehead, sweat that mixed with the tears of fear—no, no. Not fear. Terror. As she lay on the floor, she passed her hands across her face. She closed her eyes. Then she opened them, and she looked up, at the beauty that was a Los Angeles night sky. The big, white moon; the resplendent, countless stars… and then—

She saw nothing of that beauty.

A dark cloud covered her surroundings.

She only saw black.

Then she heard the screaming.

It was Teckla.

A hooded tall man was in front of Padmé, putting his gloved hands on her, forcing her to stand up. Clasping her and dragging her across the street.

"Padmé! Oh my God, Padmé!" Teckla cried, trembling, terrified.

You could see nothing of the assailant. He was like another shadow mixing with the night.

Padmé's fear paralyzed her at first, but in time, she found her common sense.

She tried to free herself from the hooded man, but he only took each of her hands between each of his own; electricity shook Padmé as her face banged against his hard chest. For a second, she stopped fighting, she reached her face closer to him, trying to peak under the hood; trying to see the face that hid in the darkness.

The Shadow's one hand clasped her waistline, while his other one grabbed her face. Before she could get used to that rough and so very odd touch… Padmé was thrown to the ground.

The dark man turned his back on her, and he walked to Teckla, as he moved, Padmé saw with supreme terror how he had pulled a knife from under his black garments.