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Geun Sae

I would crawl belly deep through hell


Student Bodies


To The Dean of Students, The Sommerset Police Department, and the Sommerset Campus Paper,

Far too long the town and the university of Sommerset have forgotten the events that once dripped blood onto the very campus you walk on every day. Not anymore. No longer will the memory of the massacre be left to the backlogs of history. I will draw blood. I will keep drawing blood until the truth is revealed. Who am I you may ask? My identity will only be revealed with the revelation of the truth. How many people will die under your hands Dean Kipliff? How many students will be hacked to death before you can stop me, Cheif Williams? Only time will tell.



May 24th, 1985
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Kimberley held the phone to her ear as she watched the girls of Sigma Sigma Sigma empty out the door single file like models strutting the runway. The redhead girl with the spunky personality seemed to lead the pack with her fellow sisters following behind her. From the front window of Tau Kappa Kappa, she could see them pile into a shiny red Camaro as the sunset off in the distance.
"There they go. And here I stay." She mumbled softly to the girl on the other end of the line.
"I don't know why you torture yourself like that. If you wanna go so badly you should! You've been studying for your finals since the midterms! This last weekend should be the time you finally let loose." Sabrina said, trying her best to encourage her friend to live life.
"You know me. Besides somebody's gotta stay home in case, someone needs a ride."
Kimberley moved away from the window and sat down by the tv to flip through the channels. She knew that she should be studying but thought that a little time to herself wasn't gonna do her any harm. She pressed the buttons on the remote as she flipped through scattered images that would flash on the screen. The nightly news, Growing Pains, Cheers. She never was a fan of Friday night sitcoms.
"I don't know. Did you hear that report on the radio? About the letters sent to the police?"
"Ugh, the news. I don't know how you stomach that shit. It's all just blood and guts and misery."
"No, I'm serious!" Sabrina cautioned. "Some weirdo sent a bunch of letters - like the Zodiac or something."
"It's all the misogynistic shit in today's movies. I mean Jesus, one of the Sigma Alpha boys took me to go see a movie, and it was just two hours of naked women getting sliced to bits. No wonder there's so many weirdos and schizoids out there."
Kimberley switched to Tv off. She got up and began pacing the Sorority house's living room out of boredom.
"I don't know Kim, I'm worried about you in that house all by yourself tonight. Besides... who knows who'll be there. Maybe that cutie you always talk about that hangs out in the quad? What's his name, Jordan?"
Kimberley smiled. "I know you're only going to see that Sigma Alpha guy that sells your roommate coke."
Sabrina scoffed, "I'm just saying... a schizoid can't get you if you're over here partying with Sigma Alpha boys and your sisters! Everyone's going Kim, c'mon!"
Kimberley looked at the clock and sighed. "It's all the way across campus. I don't know maybe I'll head over after I finish a few outlines."
Sabrina squealed with excitement. "I'll catch you there. Wear something cute!"
The two girls said goodbye and hung up the phone. Kimberley was overtaken by the silence of the living room as she consciously walked to the front door to lock it. She thought to herself about the news, then shook her head as if to shake away her intrusive thoughts. She needed to study, and the last thing she needed on her mind was some bored frat boy mailing letters to the police to distract them from their parties on campus. Yeah - that's what it was. Just some elaborate scheme set up by Sigma Alpha boys to cover their tracks.
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As the night crept on her desire to head out to the party faded with each passing minute. She was fine with letting the other girls have their fun if it meant a quiet night in the house to herself. She knew most of her sisters wouldn't be back until the next morning, and those who did manage to stumble their way back to the house wouldn't make it there till way after two in the morning. As she sat in the house's kitchen she'd occasionally peer out the window towards the Sigma house, tracing the edges of its white trim with her eyes as it sat there with its porch light on and its inside lights off. As her eyes focused on the house she thought she could make out the outline of someone standing on the porch of the house.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the figure standing outside the house looked in her direction. 'Is he looking at me?', she thought to herself. 'Can he see me?'
Kimberley immediately knew something was off. She walked to the counter where the house phone was and picked it up off its dock. She held it up to her ear and paused when she did. 'What the?'
Her blood ran cold as she pressed the dial waiting for the ring of the phone's dial tone - nothing. The phone sat quietly in her hands. She checked the cord to make sure it was properly plugged into the wall. Something was wrong - had the phone line been cut?
She turned around to see that the figure had left his position on the porch and was now nowhere to be seen. Kimberley raced into action, grabbing a knife from the kitchen drawer and sprinting from door to door, making sure each one was locked shut. She could have sworn she recognized the figure on the porch of the Sigma house. Was it that creep who was swimming in the Tau Kappa Kappa pool during winter break? What was his name - Pipes? Piper?
She thought for a moment that she heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her. Her heart was racing in her chest. Her palms were drenched with sweat, her hands shaking while clasping at the knife's handle. There was another faint creak in the floorboards of the house. She knew it was time to leave.
Kimberley tightly gripped the knife ready to sprint from the front door. She could make it to the quad - maybe somebody was still hanging there this late at night, or maybe the dorms if she ran fast enough. She threw open the door and began her sprint.
Only, as soon as she lifted her foot off the ground she realized her left foot caught itself on something close to the floor. Her body hit the ground, the knife fumbling out of her hands down the front steps of the Tau Kappa Kappa house. She looked back in terror to realize she'd been tripped by a wire - set up at the base of the door to catch her. She quickly tried to regain her stance only to let out a scream at the feeling of a hand tightly gripping her ankle. A figure, the same one standing on the Sigma porch, was standing in the doorway. He was grabbing her by her ankles trying to pull Kimberley back into the house. She could see now that they were wearing a black ski mask and a hunting coat.
Kimberley's nails scratched into the wood of the porch as she flailed her body to keep the assailant from dragging her in any further - but it was no use. The attacker pulled her in with one last good tug, sliding her across the hardwood floor. He shut the door behind him, and as Kimberley watched he brandished a hunting knife from his back pocket. There was little she could do as the figure raised his arm, and brought it down.
He stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed, drenching the Sorority house's foyer in dark red. The hunter was vicious and made sure to leave a grisly scene. If the mangled body weren't enough, the writing in blood on the house's white front door would do the trick.

"You will remember."





 
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Pips


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Pips watched from his spot on the quad as a caravan of cops flew by. They were heading north on campus. A cigarette was hanging from his mouth as his old school aviator goggles shielded his eyes from the late may sun. Recovering from the previous night bender at the Sigma party, he found the wailing of the sirens blistering and obnoxious. No longer could he distract himself from the mumbling around him and the constant assault of speeding police cruisers by doodling in his book. He had a killer headache and even as he took sips from the cold coke bottle he bought from the general store on campus, he couldn't seem to beat the heat. As he tuned in to the sounds of whispers around him he slowly lifted his goggles to better hear what was being said.

"Didn't you hear? Some Tau Kappa girl got hacked to bits last night!"

"I heard they found her eyeballs on the lawn!"

"No, you're getting it wrong! My friends on the force he said that she was scalped! They found her scalp on a mannequin in one of the girls' rooms."

"Who was it? Does anyone know?"

"I heard it was Nancy! The one with the perm!"

"I heard it was Kimberley!"

Pips ears perked at the sound of her name. Kimberley? Whitmore? He scratched at his head beneath his bucket hat as he let the cigarette fall from his teeth. He smashed it into the pavement with the toe of his boots before returning to his sketchbook.






Derek


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Chatter filled the Sigma Alpha house as Derek sat up in his bed. His room reeked of unwashed clothes and beer. Had his alarm clocked not sat next to his bed on his nightstand he would've thought he missed a midday fraternity meeting. Down on the floor below him, he could hear the mess of loud conversations. He groaned and rolled over in his bed. "Jesus it's nine o'clock on a Saturday what are they going on about?" he grumbled to himself.

He couldn't take it much longer. As the sound of conversation began to get drowned out by the sound of passing police cruisers, he hopped out of bed and threw on a pair of boxer shorts and a loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt to keep himself decent. He stumbled down the stairs and when he reached the ground floor of the house he watched in confusion as his brothers rushed out the front door to see the commotion outside.

Derek grabbed the shoulder in front of him - Titus Jefferson's and tugged it back towards him.

"What the hell is going on man?"

Titus had a look of deep concern on his face. "You know that blonde from Tau Kappa? Kimberley?"

Derek nodded "Yeah I know her."

"She got fileted, last night man. Her sister got back this morning found her insides all on the outside."

Derek's face wrinkled in confusion. Titus grabbed his wrist as he ran with the rest of the fraternity. The men rushed out to the campus across the way and ran in a herd to get a better view. All of them, dressed in their post-party outfits and reeking of alcohol and sweat jogged to the grassy quad to catch a better view of the passing cruisers.

"Jesus all those cars? It must be bad." Titus whispered to himself silently.


 
Detective BogdanovichMay 25th, 1985 | Sommerset, New York | Tau Kappa Kappa Sorority House | 12:00PM
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On a Saturday Afternoon, Veteran Detective Irina Bogdanovich was called upon to assist in the investigation of a rather grizzly murder that had taken place the previous night. Although she was on Maternity Leave and attending University to fill the void, it seemed like her Co-Workers really needed her help. More out of reluctance rather then willing, Irina proceeded to drive down to the Police Station, getting into her usual get-up for the day. For the most part, she was a little agitated because she was not expecting to be called back into the field, as the Chief knew that she was currently attending University to get a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice, but she was also pregnant and her baby was due the weekend of Finals Week. So study time was being taken away, and so was resting. Just so that her pregnancy would be less stressful and per her Midwife's wishes, Irina attended only the morning classes, and rested in her dorm during the afternoon, usually studying or reading a book, be it a novel or the pregnancy guides that her Mother keeps sending her through the mail. After exiting the Locker Room, she proceeded to straighten out her Turtleneck and adjusted her Skirt so that it wasn't squeezing her belly. After loading up her Service Pistol, Irina proceeded to take an Unmarked Cruiser from the station's Parking Lot and started to make her way to the Crime Scene.

Upon arrival, she stepped out of her vehicle to see that several other Cops had arrived on the scene. Given the nature of the crime, which the Chief had briefed her on, Irina approached with extreme caution. While she wasn't a Detective Prodigy, Irina was definitely the most thorough investigators in town, or so her colleagues have come to believe. Seemed like there were some concerned neighbors as well. A few of the people there, she recognized some of them as Students that were currently attending Sommerset University along with her. The first one she recognized, was Pips. A few years prior, she had pulled him over for speeding in a residential area...and later arrested him for trespassing. Since it wasn't that big of a deal and he didn't have any malicious intent, he was released after spending a weekend in jail, but was warned that he would serve real jail time if he was to be caught again.

Another that she recognized right off the get-go was Derek, who she had pulled over for Speeding and Reckless Driving, but only let him off with a warning because he was barely more then a kid at the time. But since they attended the same University, Irina saw him around, but he was mainly hanging out with friends, likely cutting class and getting into trouble. Because she was on leave, it didn't really bother her, since Irina spent most of her time at the University Library if not her dorm room, resting or studying. She had made brief eye-contact with both Derek and Pips because she had recognized their faces. Finally, she started waddling towards to the yellow tape and being let through by the Police Officers that were posted there to keep people from entering the crime scene and hindering the investigation.

Irina's heart broke when she was handed the file of the deceased victim, as it was a classmate. Poor kid. Had a whole life ahead of her, and now she's a victim of a horrifying murder. A few others greeted Irina before leading her into the closed off home, where she saw the 'You Will Remember.' written in blood on the wall near where the Victim was found. "Through the mercy of God, may she rest in peace..." she sighed as she gently massaged her belly, feeling her baby kick as she proceeded to review some of the photos that had been taken.

As she reviewed the photos, Irina began thinking about what happened a couple of nights ago, with Kimberley's stabbing wounds being similar to the other woman she found in the Girl's Dormitory Bathroom. This was the second murder within a week. She began thinking about what the blood-ridden quote meant. Whatever it meant, Irina made a mental note to talk to the Chief about the matter. So far, all she knew was that Sommerset University wasn't as glamourous as it seemed.
 
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"Anna....Anna.....Anna! ANNA!" The sound of a name was ringing in the ears of a red haired girl too hungover for partying to hard the night before. The young woman slowly pushed herself up off the sticky floor from the multiple spilt drinks of juice and alcohol. Flattened red hair was stuck to the sides of her face from sleeping on it for who knows how long. "Whaaaa?" A hand reached up to rub her eyes a few times before looking at her friend Janie Richards standing front of her. Glancing up and down it was clear that her friend had a one night stand with one of the people at the party. "Do you want me to drive you back so you do not do the walk of shame?"

"No." The dark haired girl turned her head to the side to hide her shame of a blush covered her cheeks. Janie tossed a jean jacket on top of her friend that was lying on the floor barely awake. "Just get up so you can drive us home already. Apparently the others are looking for us in a panic so we can have a meeting in the house. Something seriously fucked up happened and there is cops that are swarming out street right now."

"A-Are they searching our house?" A dreaded feeling was in Anna's chest remembered all the things she has hidden away in her room. Her parents would probably never let her back into school if they knew she smoked or drank like a fish almost every night. She picked the jacket up off of her self and pulled her arms through the sleeves before standing up off the ground. Anna nearly fell over by the lack of balance for missing one high heel sometime during the night. Her foot kicked off the other shoe, she can always going shopping later for new pair anyways.

Janie reached her hand out to help Anna stead herself as she took off her other shoe, "I don't know but let's just get back okay?"

"Fine. Fine. I'm sure that I am not too hungover to drive back yet." Anna linked her arms with her friend as they traverse their way out of the frat house together. It was a blessing that her car keys were still in her jacket unlike last time when they ended up in the jungle juice bucket. The girls got into a red Camaro that was parked nearby down the street from the house and took off back to their sorority house. There was a debate to grab some coffee by Anna but was shut down by Janie who just wanted to get home.

When the girls got closer to the home, there was no where to park since most of their street was blocked by cops and some new reported. Anna ended up parking two streets over for now until he cops will clear out later. The sisters collected everything from the car and started to make the journey back to their house. "What the hell happened last night? Why is there so many cops around? Do you think someone died?"
 
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Derek


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He watched from afar as the police cruiser zoomed past the quad in quick succession. He looked down and realized that not only was he only dressed in his briefs and a Hawaiian shirt, that he was also barefoot. He looked around to see that his brother was just as underdressed, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Derek spun around at the sound of a commotion behind him. He watched as a flock of students descended upon a young skinny fellow carrying a stack of newspaper in his arms. He tried to shoo them away as they excitedly swiped copies from his arms, eager to read the headlines.
"Hey bug off! They're a dollar-fifty! Hey! Stop!"
His pleas fell on deaf ears as the horde of students continued grasping at them. Derek watched as one of his brothers grabbed a copy and held it up to his face. Derek walked up to him, the other Sigma Alpha boys gathering around.
"Come on man! Read it out what's it say?"


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Sommerset University Student Murdered
21-Year-old Kimberley Whitmore, a student at Sommerset University and member of the Tau Kappa Kappa Sorority, was murdered sometime after midnight, say officials. Whitmore was found by her sorority sisters shortly after 2 A.M. this morning. The Somerset Sheriff's Department has chosen to withhold most details - though they are confirming that this is in fact related to the notes mailed to them, the Sommerset Chronicle, as well as a member of Sommerset University' board of education. This comes after the death of another female student in the university's dorms two weeks ago - though this has officially been ruled as a suicide. Despite this many, including those close to the student who passed two weeks ago, believe that the instances may be more closely linked than the university cares to admit.

Details surrounding Whitmore's murder are being kept under Police discretion, however, details leaked by an anonymous source claim that writing in blood threatens more violence on the campus. The same source claimed that Whitmore may have been stabbed anywhere between fifteen and twenty times. When pressed for an official statement - Dean Kipliff's office stated that he'll be addressing the campus later today in a joint press conference with Chief Williams of the Somerset County Sheriff's Office. Kipliff's office did state however that there's no reason to believe that this is anything more than an isolated incident and will not likely alter the school's final schedule. They wanted to remind students that grief counseling will be available at the student health and wellness center and are asking anyone with pertinent information to step forward now.


 
Jordan Fulkner
Date: May 25th, 1985
Time: 12:02 PM EST
Location: Campus Library, Front Lawn, Somerset University, New York
Jordan Fulkner lounged with his back against a large oak tree in front of the campus library. Once again, his knees were pulled up to his chest with a book propped up against them. His eyes ran over the page of his latest literary endeavor, enjoying the plot thoroughly. The book delved into a futuristic landscape of science-fiction and action. Alien invasion, governmental secrets, the impending annihilation of the human race, and a young kid swept up into the madness of it all—trained to become the perfect battle tactician. Orson Scott Card certainly had a way with words.
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"Hey, Fulk?"

Fulk glanced up at the sound of his name, making eye contact with Samantha Schue. Long, wavy blond hair cascaded around her plump heart-shaped face as she worried the bottom lip of her bowed mouth. Fulk immediately recognized the puffy, bloodshot eyes of someone who spent a lot of time crying recently.

Sammie's icy-blue eyes wandered down to the book in his lap. For a moment, her face lit up as if she wanted to say something about the reading material but changed her mind at the last minute.

"Yeah," he responded, his tone gentle and quiet. He scanned the ground for any sign of the leaf he previously used as a bookmark, but unable to spot the thing, he quickly plucked a dandelion from the lawn and slammed the paperback closed. Little bits of seed fluff puffed out of the edges, drifting across the breeze.

Sammie, as her sisters liked to call her, giggled brightly at the spectacle. When she laughed, which happened often, Fulk wondered why she wasn't on somebody's arm. She belonged to Sigma Sigma Sigma but didn't fit the typical look of a sorority girl. Sammie carried some extra weight on her and stumbled awkwardly through most social situations. Her rosacea didn't help much either, even though she tried to cover it with makeup whenever she could.

It was common knowledge that every sorority took in at least one 'unfortunate.' Some sweet girl who didn't fit the standard bill of acceptable beauty and social grace but proved to be wicked smart, and Sammie embodied the words wicked smart. She calculated intricate mathematics like a wiz and told jokes that would have people weeping at the punchline. She wanted desperately to fit in, and when they offered a spot in Triple-Sig, she lunged at it. The other sisters didn't even make her go through any of their hazing rituals to get in. She felt thrilled and wore her sorority pendant around her neck like a popularity prize that she never won.
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In exchange for being "allowed" into Triple-Sig, all Sammie needed to do was provide them with copies of her notes, finish the essays of the three ringleaders of the sorority, provide the entire house with free on-demand tutoring, and clean the bathrooms once a week.

They treated Sammie like a dog, and it made Fulk sick. He would have told her to get out while she could and find a circle of friends that actually liked her for her, but she seemed so happy being there—Fulk didn't believe it was his place to tell her any differently.

"Hey, Sammie," Fulk responded with a chuckle of his own. He picked a piece of fluff out of his eyelashes and flicked it into the breeze. "What's going on?"

"I know it's a lot to ask," she began, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously. "But I was wondering if you would help with Kimberly's memorial service?"

Fulk gave the girl a blank stare, "Memorial service?"

Sammie nodded, reaching up to wipe away the tears in her eyes, "Yeah... Sigma Sigma Sigma House is planning a thing here at Somerset. Her parents are having a private funeral, but we wanted to make sure there was a place where her friends and professors could get together and remember her. She's always—She was always really nice to me. Kimberly used to come over and help me write out notes some nights."

"Kimberly Whitmore?"

Sammie looked down at Fulk's bewildered expression, and an expression of horrified realization crossed her features, "Oh God, you don't know! I'm so sorry. I thought everyone knew by now. Kimberly—she-sh-she..."

Fulk tossed the book beside him on the lawn and jumped to his feet. The young man didn't bother brushing the grass stains off his lower back and the seat of his jeans. If one thing existed in the world that Fulk could never get used to, it was the idea of not immediately comforting someone as they cried.

Fulk placed his hands firmly near her shoulder blades and pulled her against him. They didn't know each other perfectly, but they spent a lot of time studying together during their criminal science course. He felt the soft wooly texture of the oversized corduroy sweater she wore.

Sammie stood a foot shorter than Fulk, but most people did at six-foot-three. Her face was buried in the center of his chest, and she cried openly for a moment. Fulk didn't know what to say. He couldn't imagine how this happened. Kimberly exuded youth and strength—never one to turn a blind eye to inequality, she fought for what she felt right. Fulk wanted to know what happened but feared to ask Sammie as she finally started to calm down.

After the Triple-Sig initiate dried her eyes, Fulk agreed to lend a hand. She thanked him, apologized, and stumbled over a tuft of unclipped grass as she turned to go. Sammie glanced back over her shoulder with an embarrassed smile, but Fulk pretended to be distracted with picking up his book—insinuating that he saw nothing. Sammie's face broke into relief, and she fled.

Fulk sat back down in his spot to begin reading the last few chapters of his novel when another voice interrupted him, "Yo!"

Fulk's best friend, Sarah Briggson, was dressed in her standard Canadian tuxedo and tee-shirt. Her short black hair was gelled up, and her usual rounded blue sunglasses were perched on the bridge of her nose. She leaned more toward Billy Idol's side of today's fashion rather than Madonna's. It just so happened to suit her very well.

"What's up," Fulk answered as the girl collapsed next to him on the grass.

His eyes drifted back to the page, and a mischievous grin washed over Sarah's features, "I just witnessed a miracle."

"Mmhm," Fulk replied noncommittedly.
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The young woman fixed Fulk with a faux glare, "If you put down that book, I'll tell you about it."

Jordan Fulkner sighed, closing the book on the dandelion stem, and shoved a disdainful look her way. Sarah smiled an exaggerated grin. She pointed a long, thin, and accusatory finger at Fulk.

"I just saw you getting real close with that blond geek, Samantha Schue," she said. "Close enough to think you were batting for our team again."

Fulk froze up, his eyes scanning the immediate area around them. "Could you be any louder," he hissed.

"Take a pill, spaz, jeez," she complained, waving a dismissive hand at his face. "There's no one around. Like anyone would show up to this place except to ask you favors. So, what did poser-Barbie want?"

"First of all," Fulk chided, "Don't call her that. She just wants to fit in, and not everyone's as... brave as you."

Sarah huffed, catching on to how he emphasized 'brave.'

"What a polite way you have to say, strange," her face went somber after that. "Of course, you're way braver than I am, so what's that say about her."

"In what way," Fulk asked, "Could I possibly be braver than you? I can't even tell people about who I am."

She placed a slender hand on his shoulder, "You told me, and that took more courage than a drunk, naked man operating a woodchipper."

Fulk chuckled, "Lame."

Sarah's eyes flew wide open, and her hand jerked back to clutch at a string of imaginary pearl, "Not even!"

They laughed together for a bit as Sarah reached into her satchel and brought back a tightly rolled joint. She lit the tip, took a deep drag, and held it out to Fulk. The section of the university they lounged in looked almost empty, but Fulk shook his head with a stunned expression.

"I can't believe you're going to smoke that shit, and in broad daylight," he frowned.

Sarah waved the smoldering bud in his face, "Come on, Fulk. Don't be a spaz. Try some." Then in a sing-song voice, she concluded, "It's toootally bitchiiiin'!"

"You're one of those people the after-school specials warned me about," he said, playfully swatting the girl's hand away.

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She frowned at him with a roll of her eyes, "As if!" Sarah took another long drag, sucked a little air in after, and held her breath for a second right before slowly exhaling. "Did you hear about Kimberly Whitmore," she asked, her throat raspy.

"Yeah," Fulk said, slipping to the side and rolling so that his back was flat on the ground. Sarah followed him down, and together they laid side by side with shoulders touching, staring up into the backlit greenery of the oak's leafy canopy. "I can't imagine how someone like her could have died so suddenly."

Sarah abruptly started to sputter and hack. Vast clouds of skunky smoke escaped from her lungs, disappearing in the light breeze. She pushed herself up onto her elbows to stare at him. Her eyes opened comically to the point where Fulk could see the whites encircling the iris completely.

"She was hacked to bits, dude," Sarah said.

Fulk's heart began to race, "Don't be bogus."

"I'm not," she asserted. "The whole campus is wiggin' out on sorority row. Barf!" She laid back down, taking another puff of bud. "I heard they found her with enough holes to sink a cruise ship."

"God," Fulk groaned, "Sarah! Do you have to be so grody?"

She reached with her left hand across her body with her palm out flat and tight toward Fulk, "Hi! I'm Sarah. Nice to meet you."

"When?"

"All my life," Sarah shot back.

Fulk groaned again, slapping his hands across his face and dragging them down, "When did it happen?"

Sarah shrugged, "I dunno. They found her at two this morning, though. I was walking by when the first police cars started showing up."

"What the hell were you doing walking down sorority row at two in the morning," he demanded.

"Jeez, Dad," Sarah said, "Don't have a cow." She rolled over onto her side, and by unspoken agreement, Fulk did the same and faced her. She gave her friend a sly smile, "I just happened to be walking home from a guy's place."

"At two in the morning," Fulk repeated for emphasis, his voice flat and disbelieving.

Now it was Sarah's turn to groan, "You really are like my dad, sometimes, you know?"

"Okay, but he couldn't have walked you home?"

Sarah sighed, snubbing her joint on the grass between them. Then, after the roach was safely tucked away in her top jacket pocket, she reached forward to cup both sides of his face with her hands. "Oh, Fulk," she sighed, "I know you don't understand men because you have yet to find one to secretly date, but this isn't nineteen-fifty-three anymore—guys don't do that."

"They do when they're nice," he retorted.

Sarah chuckled, "You're such an adorable zeek, Fulk." With that, she leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. "But you're the only nice guy I know."

She stood up then and brushed the bits of grass off her denim-clad thighs and back. "Let me know if you want to come over for a movie later or something."

"You know I have class at night," Fulk said.

Sarah reached into her other coat pocket and slid a 'Now Menthol 100' between her teeth. "Not anymore," she said, puffing a cloud of smoke above her head, "Classes are suspended until next Monday. Don't know if you heard, but there was a murder on campus..."
 
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Derek


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His stomach churned at the sight of the words printed on the front page. He traced his finger over the small photo of her in the corner of the page. He couldn't take the sound of the quad and the commotion. His headache was starting to kill him. He folded the newspaper and slowly walked his way back to the fraternity house. Upon entering through the doors with the stained glass windows he was met with a barrage of conversations and shouting. On any other given day, Derek would be happy to join in on the roughhousing and brotherly chit-chat, but not today.

He got dressed and looked at himself in the mirror. He'd set the newspaper down on his nightstand. Occasionally his eyes would glance at the paper and from his peripherals, he could see the image of the smiling dead girl. He knew he needed to go somewhere quiet. Derek gulped down the rest of the water that sat by his bed and quickly began his trek towards the campus library. The quad was now filled with news fans. Reporters shoved their microphones into the faces of concerned students while cameramen recorded b roll footage of the campus.

A transistor radio nearby was playing the sound of a station jingle before the voice of a radio DJ interjected. "This is KKQ Radio 98.5! SOmmserset Student Radio! The campus is in shock today after the brutal murder of a student in the Tau Kappa Kappa Sorority house. The phone lines are open so be sure to call in and express your thought's on the situation. Right now we got caller number three on the line. Hey babe, watcha got to say?"

"I have a friend who's boyfriends on the force. She said the girl was stabbed seventeen times. I mean, can you imagine? Talk about overkill." The voice of a young woman sounded over the airwaves.

"How about we spare our listeners from the gory details." The DJ remarked.

"The killers gotta be someone on campus or at least someone who knew her!"

"You think it was a fellow student?"

"I'm just saying if there is some freaked out psycho he was probably already in her life. And who knows, he's probably gonna strike again."[

The radio's voices seemed to fade into the distance. As the midday sun began to creep overhead the sweltering heat and humidity began to wrap around Derek like a wet blanket. If It weren't for the circumstances, he'd be heading out to the lake with his brothers to go water skiing.

As Derek approached the library he recognized a familiar face sitting on the front lawn sitting beside a girl he'd seen on occasion around campus. The smell of dope and cigarettes permeated the air around them. Derek smiled and greeted the young man loudly.

"Jordan Faulk! The man, the myth, the legend, smoking dope in front of the campus library? How scandalous" He exclaimed facetiously
JesseMarshall JesseMarshall


 
Jordan Fulkner
Date: May 25th, 1985
Time: 12:32 PM EST
Location: Campus Library, Front Lawn, Somerset University, New York

"Meathead—twelve o'clock," Sarah mumbled under her breath to Fulk.
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Derek Wayne Phillips smiled brightly, showing off a row of perfectly straight teeth. His rounded jaw stood out sharply from his squared face, and his shaggy brown locks tumbled to just above his shoulders. Fulk's heart sped up a bit, and he swallowed hard as Derek called his name, well, almost his name, over the stretching lawn.

Sarah raised her eyebrows at Fulk, and dawning realization swept over her face as clearly as someone flicking on a light switch. "Omigod, you can't be serious," she whispered accusingly at the man still on the ground.

Fulk spun back to face her, blush crawling up the side of his neck, "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Sarah's head shook, her slack-jawed amazement just barely covering her humor. It seemed to Fulk that his best friend didn't know whether she should laugh at or admonish the man next to her. When the corners of her mouth lowered, Fulk knew she decided on the latter.

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"Don't you pull that on me," she said, heat in her tone and quietness in her voice. Derek still trundled his way toward them, and Fulk realized that while he wasn't quite in listening distance yet, he would be coming up to it soon. Fulk glanced over his shoulder nervously, tracking how much longer until Derek got there.

Sarah followed his eyes, and with a groan of frustration, held up an index finger at the approaching man. Derek recognized the universal symbol for hold on and stopped in his tracks. The young woman turned back to look Fulk in the eye, "You have a crush on Derek' Wouldn't-know-what-the-inside-of-a-book-was-if-he-was-holding-one-in-front-of-his-face' Phillips. I thought you had better sense than to fall for a muscle-bound, jockish, space cadet."

Fulk pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, "I'm pretty sure that his middle name is Wayne, actually."

"You do have a crush on him," Sarah exclaimed, narrowing her eyes. "Well, at least one of you actually knows the other person's name."

"Please be nice," Fulk beseeched.

Sarah's shoulders slunk with a heavy sigh. Finally, the girl dropped her finger, straightened back up out of Fulk's face, took a quick puff on her 'Now Menthol,' and smiled at Derek. "Hey! It's Derek, right," she called out to him. "Nah, this Joanie wouldn't know what to do with bud if you stuck it in his mouth and lit it for him. Anyways, sorry about that. We were just catching up on the recent news. Hope midterms were good , but I gotta motor. Later days and better lays, boys!"
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She turned and left, but not before patting Fulk on the shoulder three times. On the third smack, she gently squeezed his shoulder in warning. Sarah employed a sharp tone and biting sense of humor, but her worry for her friends shone through most genuinely.

Fulk glanced back at Derek again. The young basketball player just dipped under the low-hanging branches of the oak, "Hey Derek, how are you? It's Fulkner, by the way, no 'A" in there. Just call me Fulk, though." He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

God, Jordan, you're such a dip sometimes, he thought
 


Pips


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Pips wiped at his eyes and removed his goggles, revealing beneath them a pair of cherry red aviators sitting just beneath the brim of his white bucket hat. The transistor radios - the commotion on the quad - the students early fetching newspapers to read the headlines, all of it fascinated him. He looked at the moments and interactions each of the faces before him were experiencing.

The artist in him was struck by inspiration as he fetched his shoulder bag and dug out his handy dandy polaroid camera. He took two photos, one of a group of fraternity boys reading the front page of the paper and the other of a girl listening to the radio. He quickly realized he was out of the film and ejected the cartridge before digging through his bag to grab another one. He tore the plastic open and placed it into the polaroid's slot before focusing on his next portrait.

A trio of sorority girls was huddled together. Pips raised the viewfinder to his eye and silently focused on the scene. One of the girls was covering her mouth from shock while the other two held deeply concerned looks on their faces. He recognized one of them, the redhead, as the girl who was plastered at the party from the night before. He'd seen her shotgunning a can of beer from the corner of the room while his vision faded in and out of color from the tabs of acid he took earlier that night.

Pips pressed the button and grimaced as he immediately recognized the distinct "K-shk!" noise the camera made. The three girls each turned around in confusion as he realized he'd forgotten to turn off the flash. Hunbunbun Hunbunbun






Derek


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Derek was glad to see a familiar face before him. Sure they had only talked a few times, but a kind face like Jordan's was appreciated amongst the callous conversations surrounding Kimberley's death. He flashed Jordan a smile and watched as his friend walked away, assuming she was off to study for some exams.

"Fulk huh? Alright then." He laughed as he said it. He looked at the young man standing before him, alongside the book in his hand and the grass stains on his shorts. He pointed off to Jordan's friend as she marched away, occasionally looking over her shoulder at the boys standing back on the library's front lawn.

"She's pretty cute. A bit too 'alternative' for me though." Jordan said mindlessly. "You two seeing each other or what?"

Derek placed his hand on his hip and the other above his eyes, shielding them from the midday sun.


JesseMarshall JesseMarshall


 


Deputy Rodriguez


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The scent of blood was overpowering. The sight was even more overwhelming. Crimson splotches and splatters painted the white walls and marble floors of the sorority house's foyer. There was a path of blood smeared down the center of the room into the kitchen, then back into the foyer. Whoever had killed Kimberley Whitmore drug her around the house while he did it. On the front door of the house painted it blood - "you will remember"
There was a noose hanging from the foyer's chandelier. Not only had she been stabbed 17 times, drug around the house, and had her blood used like paint for a threatening message, her body was hung from the chandelier. It was a truly gruesome sight. Even the repeated warning the chief and his coworkers gave him couldn't prepare him for this. He thought he'd seen it all - rollover accidents in convertibles cars, subway platform jumpers, a fire in a bodega. None of it compared to the sight before him.
She'd been cut down by the time he arrived. Her body was in a body bag laying on the floor beside the sorority house's grand staircase. There were a few deputies outback, surveying the cut telephone wires and the footprints left behind in the mud. They were trying to determine if they belonged to the murderer.
"Jesus she was just a kid." He mumbled to himself.
There was the sound of repeated flashes and clicks. The coroner and crime scene photographers inched every minuscule detail of the scene. Keith turned to his pregnant coworker and lowered his eyebrows. A look of concern drapes his face.
"Jesus Irinia, you sure you should be here?"

BloodThunder27 BloodThunder27


 
Detective Irina O. BogdanovichMay 25th, 1985 | Sommerset, New York | Sigma Sorority House | 12:35PM
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Along with the Crime Scene Investigators that had arrived on the scene shortly before her, Irina continued to inspect that rather gruesome crime scene that had greeted her for the early morning. The last couple of minutes or so had been spent examining the crime scene thoroughly while CSI gathered the evidence for Forensics to examine and hopefully bring the Department closer to catching the killer. But she couldn't catch a killer if she didn't know who it was... But she hadn't had a clue on who it may be. So far, she only had the weapon of choice and the assumption that the Killer was targeting women in particular. Because she is a student at the University, Irina couldn't help but wonder if the killer was going to be targeting her, though only time would tell because it was no secret that she is also a Detective at the Sommerset Sheriff's Department.

Before she can finish her train of thought, Irina heard the voice of one of her Co-Workers. She would then turn to face him with a rather stern look on his face, especially since he had asked if she should be there at the crime scene. "Well I am one of the best Detectives as far as the Chief Williams is concerned. If I wasn't studying to get my Master's, I probably wouldn't be here since I should be home resting, but this case is...personal for me. This is the second classmate this week that has gotten murdered. I also think that this is connected to the murder at the Girls' Dormitory building a couple of days ago." She said as she gave him her full, undivided attention. "Similar if not same murder weapon, blood all over the place and the wounds on the late Ms. Whitmore are almost identical to the other victim."
 
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When Anna and Janie tried to get close to their house, it was surround by different sorority girls crying from each house on the block. There was even some fraternity boys in their pajamas looking like they just woke up walking around. "What the fucked happened here last night. I have the idea that something really messed up had to happen to see everyone out here." A comment form Anna as she looked around the sea of people that was blocking her from getting to her house. The sounds of everything is what bother her the most, she had a killer headache and each cry makes the pounding worse.

After squeezing through the crowd of people arrived to the front steps of there house they were bombard by their friend Mary Jane running down the stairs yelling, "Anna! Janie! Thank god you guys are back!" Mary wrapped her arms around her friends trying to hold back a sobbing trying to speak. "I-I was so worried. Oh thank god you are here."

"Woah. Woah. Mary, what is going on here. Why is there everyone on our street?" Anna gently wrapped her arm around around the brunette girl's back. Her hand moved in small circles to try and comfort her crying sister.

"It's awful!" Mary Jane tried to pull away from Anna as she tried to speak. Her brown eyes were completely blood shot from the tears. It seemed like she has been crying for a long time by how tear soaked the sleeves of her sorority sweater were. "Terrible! Poor Kimb-Kimberly." The girl broke out in another sob as her hands covered her face.

Janie each her hand out to gently rub her Mary's hair speaking in a soft voice "Breath, Mary. Just breath. Okay? Take a few deep breaths then tell us what is going on."

After a few deep breaths and comforting Mary was able to calm down enough to tell her sisters the news. "Kimberley Whitmore from Tau Kappa Kappa got murdered last night." A flood of emotions hit the dark haired girl again as she started to cry again. "She is gone! Chopped up into piece right across from us!"

Anna seemed to freeze in her place once she heard those words come out of her mouth. She knew Kimberley as a fellow classmate and someone apart of her orientation group when she frist came to campus. The blonde was always friendly to her and helped give her tips on when the best food was being served on campus. Kimberley even comforted her when she got rejected by her parents to join the Film major. Even though they were never that close, she was a special person in her college experience. Hot tears started forming in eye then start streaming down her face as a sobbed escaped from her throat. She fell forward on to Mary Jane and Janie and just started crying with her sisters.

CLICK

A blinding light flashed on to the crying girls that seemed to stop the sobs and replace them with confusion. The red headed girl turned her head away from her sisters to a man in a bucket hat and glasses holding a camera. Normally she would have been happy to see the man and would offer to go hang out to smoke but not this time. Anna also wasn't surprised that her picture taken and didn't really care since he did have a good eye for capturing emotion in art. That didn't excuse the face had no right to take one of her friends in mourning. "Pips! Are you fucking serious right now!? You better get rid of this picture. I don't want to see my sister's crying face plastered every where."
 
Jordan Fulkner
Date: May 25th, 1985
Time: 12:45 PM EST
Location: Campus Library, Front Lawn, Somerset University, New York
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Bright sunlight dappled across the dew-laden grass, causing a plethora of colors to shimmer across its surface. Fulk hoped the weather held. A regular person could mistake this for a good day, were it not for the horrific news washing over campus. Kimberly Whitmore’s death expanded like a shroud around the university and cloaked its students in a somber disposition.

Despite the grave overtones, Fulk’s heart padded away in his chest. Derek Phillips rarely associated with him, except in collaboration on an anatomy or an anthropology group project. Then again, today already moved into the category of surreal, and Fulk wondered if he fell asleep against the tree at some point. The possibility seemed plausible.

The young man reached down and grabbed a piece of skin on his arm between thumb and forefinger, giving it a pinching squeeze. He drew a sharp intake of air through his teeth as stinging pain shot through the epidermis.

Nope, Fulk thought. I am not dreaming.

“You two seeing each other, or what?” Derek asked.

Fulk fixed Derek with a winning smile, “Or something. She’s like a sister to me.”

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Derek stood with one hand blocking out the sun and the other resting on his hip. Fulk wondered if the kinesiology major knew the picture he painted. Fulk assumed Derek was watching Sarah, but the young woman made it back to her dorm a while ago.

Maybe Derek hoped to spark up, scoping out the area to make sure no one lingering cared. The students certainly wouldn’t. He supplied most of the campus with bud, and not a single one would narc on him. If the rat became outed, they’d be in a world of hurt—destroying the best source of grass in Somerset.

Not that it really mattered who lurked nearby, anyway. The low-hanging branches of the tree hid the two men well, and the only way someone would see them is if they dipped their heads to look. It didn’t seem likely that would happen. Most students, even steel-nerved frat boys, got the wiggins from the black and yellow garden spiders that clung to the upper branches—Fulk thought they looked stunning.

He couldn’t tell where Derek’s eyes wandered, but the distracted young man didn’t seem upset or worried. Perhaps he lost his train of thought, or even found a new one. When they used to work on group projects together, Fulk would often catch the young man staring out the window to the quad below. Many pupils, and even a few professors, referred to Derek as an airhead, but Fulk often wondered if thoughtfulness and introspection were the real culprits behind those frozen moments.

“Ground Control to Major Tom,” Fulk chided with another toothsome grin. “Can you hear me, Major Tom?”

Ask him to sit down, you blundering half-wit, Fulk’s brain raged.

“You’re hovering,” he went on, “Do you want to sit down?”

Carson leaned back against the tree, but didn't bother to pick up his book again. "I suppose you've heard about Kimberly, huh? I can't believe she's gone."


Mentions || Geun Sae Geun Sae
 
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Pips


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The redhead turned around, revealing a bright white face with fair skin and pale pink lips. Pips stuttered as he tried to explain. His clunky bowling shoes, his thigh-high short shorts, and Hawaiian shirt - he stood out among the well-dressed student of campus like a sore thumb.

"Pips! Are you fucking serious right now!? You better get rid of this picture. I don't want to see my sister's crying face plastered everywhere." She growled at him.
He dejectedly lowered the camera from his face. The polaroid fell from the camera's slot and landed on the concrete pavement between his purple bowling shoes. He nodded his head and pushed his aviators back up to the bridge of his nose.

"I-I'm sorry. I bet you look good in it if that was the problem?"

He looked at the crying girls before him and gritted his teeth. Quickly, he snatched the polaroid off the pavement and fetched a lighter from his back pocket. Pips held it up and lit the photo, letting the orange and yellow flames devour it before it got a chance to fully develop.

"There, it's gone. I'm sorry Anna."

The scene was chaotic - crying girls, police sirens, students crowded around radios and newspapers. His hands were fidgety with the urge to shoot more photos, to draw the images before him, or to go up and ask the officers themselves at a chance of hearing the gory details. Nonetheless, he stood with his hands out awkwardly trying to console his dear friend.

"Have you tried popping a Percocet or something? I might have some in my bag..."

Pips looked at his bowling shoes and sharply inhaled. He realized how insensitive his remark may have sounded. "I'm sorry - you know how I am with people. Is there anything I can do?"

Hunbunbun Hunbunbun






Derek


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Derek's eyes mindlessly traced the outline of the building on campus. The quiet fell over him slowly as he realized it was just him the gentle giant that stood before him.

“Ground Control to Major Tom,”

“Can you hear me, Major Tom?”

Derek shifted his attention to a voice outside his own head. He flashed a toothy grin. "Sorry, you know how I get.", Derek chuckled.

“You’re hovering, Do you want to sit down?”

He nodded, before settling down on the grass he stood on. He stretched as he let out a yawn, not realizing just how tired he was from the lack of sleep he got last night. He picked at something stuck in his back teeth.

Jordan leaned his back up against the trunk of the willow that provided shade for the both of them. As quiet as it was the distant commotion of students on the quad and police radios could still be heard.

"I suppose you've heard about Kimberly, huh? I can't believe she's gone."

Derek shook his head. "You heard what they been saying about her? Stabbed seventeen times? What kind of schizoid maniac would do something like that?"

He paused and held his breath. Derek looked up at Jordan and showed him a face of genuine concern. "Do you think it was someone on campus? Like, someone, she knew?" he said shakily. He tried his best not to sound distressed - but his tries were in vain. He looked away from Jordan momentarily, then cleared his throat and puffed out his chest to hide his fear. "I mean - if it was he'd be unlucky to run into guys like us huh? Probably why he had to pick off some lonely girl in a sorority house."

JesseMarshall JesseMarshall







Deputy Rodriguez


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Rodrigez nodded his head. He looked up to the coworker. Despite this, he often worried for her health along with the health of her child. "How the hell are we gonna keep these details from leaking? It's all over the student radio - and in the paper too.

He paused for a moment to scan the entirety of the room before him. It was elegant, and if it weren't for the crime scene and body, he'd have felt out of place in such a classy home.

He continued, "CSI said they found an orange string on the body and on the porch. Maybe from a jacket or a mask or something."

His stomach was turning at the scent of copper.

"And these knife wounds, Jesus, he really was out for blood."

He turned the corner into the kitchen, eyeing the smears of blood on the floor trailing from the foyer. He plugged his nose. Rodriguez couldn't take the smell anymore. He walked his way over the window and cracked it open for a breath of fresh air. He inhaled, then looked down on the floor at a small piece of paper that juts out from one of the seats at the table by the window. He could see something written in pencil on the small note - and it was in the same handwriting as the letters received by the department.

"Hey Bogdanovich! Hey guys! Check it out!"

Susan Brown


BloodThunder27 BloodThunder27


 
Detective Irina O. BogdanovichMay 25th, 1985 | Sommerset, New York | Sigma Sorority House | 12:50PM
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Although Irina would rather be at home resting, given that she was due next weekend, but with a new ongoing case, she could only wonder how chaotic this next week would become. Thankfully, she did very well at handling stress, but that didn't mean her little bundle of joy could say the same. She continued to write notes in her notepad and speak with the Investigators on scene with the help of her Co-Worker. No suspects so far, but so far she had suspected that the suspect was a Male because she remembered hearing a Male voice on the night of the previous murder shortly before finding the first victim's corpse with multiple stab wounds which was preceded by a trail of blood. "Honestly, I think its a little late for that. But if word gets out this fast, even though there are no witnesses and the crime scene isn't swarming with News Reporters, I can only guess that the suspect is within the student body somewhere." She responded as she put her notepad away in her jacket pocket.

Overall, the rather grizzly murder left Irina a little unsettled. Her Co-Worker then proceeded to point out that CSI had found a Orange String on the victim's body and on the porch. "Tell them to send it to Forensics for Testing."

As she continued to walk through the house, she heard her Rodriguez call out to her and the others. Quietly, Irina waddled over to see what her Co-Worker had found. Her blood ran cold as she read the name on the small piece of paper. "Susan Brown...That was one of the seven victims of the Sommerset Massacre thirty years ago! We could have a Copycat Killer, but...there wasn't a name left with the other victims. So...we're gonna need more evidence." She looked straight at her partner. "We're gonna have to meet with the Dean of Students. I'll meet you on Campus." She said before waddling away and back to her Police Cruiser.

Deputy Rodriguez Geun Sae Geun Sae
 
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Rachel Ainsworth

Rachel glanced at the clock again and sighed. Three hours had passed since she had holed up in a corner of the library to study, but she'd hardly made any progress in the text.
She began to flick her thumb along the pages, thinking back to the events of that morning.
The entire campus was in turmoil after news had broken out about the murder.

There was no doubt about it, not like the so-called suicide in the - where had it happened again? - in the shower rooms. No, from snippets of conversation Rachel had picked up on her habitual morning jog, this newest victim had been discovered in one of the sorority houses, horrifically mangled.

It was too much. With police officers swarming the area, all classes canceled until further notice and a slew of students speculating non-stop about who the culprit might be, Rachel couldn't concentrate on anything else.

Even now, tucked away in the quietest place she could find, it wasn't completely removed from the rest. She could hear a couple of hushed voices in the next aisle over, saying things like "poor girl" and "stabbed to death."

Rachel scrunched her eyebrows in a combination of concern and annoyance. Yes, what had happened to that girl was unfortunate, but to be completely honest, it had nothing to do with her. The killer was probably a jealous boyfriend or an obsessed stalker that would be caught in a day or two.

Sure, there would be an uproar when the culprit was exposed, but after the excitement has waned everything would settle down and go back to normal.

"Then why," the dark haired girl muttered to herself, "do I have such a bad feeling about this...?"
 
Jordan Fulkner
Date: May 25th, 1985
Time: 12:50 PM EST
Location: Campus Library, Front Lawn, Somerset University, New York
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Rachel Ainsworth wasn’t the only one with a bad feeling. Under the historic oak, Jordan Fulkner sat rolling a blade of grass between his thumb and forefinger. Thinking about Kimberly made the young man a little queasy, especially after hearing the gruesome details of the attack. Fulk reflected back to his anatomy lessons—about all the little capillaries that ran under the surface of the skin. The sheer amount of blood and gore that splattered the walls of Kappa Tau Kappa would portray a scene from “Carrie”.

“Do you think it was someone on campus? Like someone she knew?” Fulk watched from the corner of his eye as Derek Shuddered at his own question. Fulk didn’t blame him. The whole thing felt wrong and terrifying.

The psychology major responded with a nod. “I imagine so,” he said. “It’s more than likely someone on campus. We might even know them.”

Fulk grimaced at that. It seemed like both of the boys were speaking truths that made their skin crawl. Derek shifted his eyes away from Fulk, his full mouth bowed into a frown and his eyebrows knitted with concern. He appeared locked in an inner turmoil of different emotions.

Fulk’s attention wavered as Derek’s shaggy brown hair fell into his face. He lifted a hand off the grass impulsively and started reaching over to tuck the wayward locks behind the other man’s ear, but the spell broke before he even made it halfway as Derek puffed out his chest in a show of masculinity.

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“I mean - he’d be unlucky to run into guys like us, huh? Probably why he had to pick off some lonely girl in a sorority house.”

Fulk dropped his hand away before Derek turned back to face him. God, Fulk thought. Get a grip! He’d beat the shit out of you.

“Hey,” Fulk began. “Let’s not diss the dead, yeah? The whole thing’s warped, and Kimberly’s—Kimberly was legit. She could have taken half the guys on campus in a fight.”

The young man flashed Derek a warm smile. “Besides, who knows what any of us would’ve done in that situation. It’s not like you’re being chased around by a sicko with a knife every day.”

Leaning away from the tree, Fulk stretched out on the grass once again, eyeing the clouds passing over head through the gaps in the canopy. Air brushed against the skin of his hips, and he realized his shirt rose a bit during the move, but in that moment, he ignored it.

Just then, someone flipped on a D-cell boombox nearby, and music drifted over the breeze to their spot. Fulk adored the song playing and sang along under his breath, barely forming the words. People told him all the time that he possessed a wonderful singing voice, but that never encouraged him to sing out loud.

“I’m lost in admiration. Could I need you this much?
Oh, you’re wasting my time,
You’re just, just, just, wasting time.”


Fulk propped himself up on his elbows, affixing Derek with a glance. “What are your plans since they canceled lectures? My birthday is tomorrow, and Sarah wants to do horror movies and beer if you’d like to join. She’s planning on inviting Rachel Ainsworth, a guy named ‘Pips’ she hangs with, and a woman from her criminal justice class. She says the woman might be a no-go because she’s pregnant, but nothing’s ever certain.”
 




Derek


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“Hey,” Fulk muttered. “Let’s not diss the dead, yeah? The whole thing’s warped, and Kimberly’s—Kimberly was legit. She could have taken half the guys on campus in a fight.”

Derek felt his smile drop off his face. He knew he'd misspoke. He felt the guilt pressing from the inside of his chest. He knew Kimberley was more than just the hot-headed blonde from Tau Kappa Kappa. She had friends and a life of her own. As he looked up, he was relieved to catch the sight of Jordan's smile - indicating that his poor choice of words was really no big deal.

“Besides, who knows what any of us would’ve done in that situation. It’s not like you’re being chased around by a sicko with a knife every day.”

Derek cracked his knuckles. "Yeah well, I'd like to see whatever creep's responsible come after me. I know I'll be doing a lot more fighting than running. Who knows maybe I'll get some off-season swinging practice in with him."

Derek watched as Jordan lost himself in the tune of the new wave pop from the boom box in the distance. Derek usually had contempt of Tears for Fears - he thought it was just yuppie trash. But watching the friendly giant before him bob his head to the song brought him a sense of comfort.

“What are your plans since they canceled lectures? My birthday is tomorrow, and Sarah wants to do horror movies and beer if you’d like to join. She’s planning on inviting Rachel Ainsworth, a guy named ‘Pips’ she hangs with, and a woman from her criminal justice class. She says the woman might be a no-go because she’s pregnant, but nothing’s ever certain.”

Derek smiled. "The boys at the fraternity are throwing another rager but I'm not much in the mood for partying. Need to lay off the beers before I get a gut.", he chuckled. "I'd be up for it. A Pips? That isn't the guy who calls himself Pepsi and wears the aviator goggles and Hawaiian shirts is it? The one that talks to himself while dropping tabs? Talk about Psycho's they should be questioning his ass first and foremost."

He bit his lip at the mention of Rachel Ainsworth. She was the stoic bad girl he'd shared his English classes with freshman year. He locked eyes with Jodan and nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah count me in. I'll bring some brewski's and we can have a good time. All though I'm a bit a whimp - promise you'll hold my hand and shield my eyes if I get too scared?". Derek leaned over and punched Jordan on the shoulder jokingly.

JesseMarshall JesseMarshall







Deputy Rodriguez


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"Susan Brown...That was one of the seven victims of the Sommerset Massacre thirty years ago! We could have a Copycat Killer, but...there wasn't a name left with the other victims. So...we're gonna need more evidence. We're gonna have to meet with the Dean of Students. I'll meet you on Campus."

Deputy Rodriguez watched his colleague walk back to her car. The word "Copy Cat Killer" echoing in his head. He'd heard of the Sommerset Massacre in passing - urban legends about a crazed student hacking away at coeds long ago. He'd never really pieced together that it was a real crime until now. His walkie-talkie buzzed up, he listened closely to the voice on the other end.

He jogged out the front of the house and caught up with the pregnant woman waddling her way down the cobblestone path of the sorority house. "Irina! There's gonna be a press conference on campus in fifteen. Cheif wants you there ASAP.

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Sarah Briggson
Sarah Briggson
Date: May 25th, 1985
Time: 12:35 PM EST
Location: Off campus housing, Townhouse of Sarah Briggson, Somerset, New York
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Sarah Briggson patted down her jean pockets to make sure the essentials were there. The keys to her 1984 Honda Prelude, the black leather wallet that carried her ID and cash, a pack of Now Menthol cigarettes, and her lucky brass knuckles were all there. She crossed the hall of her off-campus townhouse and stopped at the foyer mirror to take a quick check of her appearance.

The jean jacket she wore earlier that day hung on a paint-chipped hat rack by the front door, and instead she sported a white band-tee with the words ‘Same As It Ever Was’ printed repetitively down its length. The weather spiked in temperature recently, and Sarah finally hung up her regular denim until fall again.

After she felt satisfied her black hair fell just right, by looking like a jagged mess, she pulled open the front door to leave. Were she not paying attention, her foot would have gone right through the black painted shoe box sitting on her welcome mat. Her step faltered, however, and she stumbled backward to avoid crushing the thing. Sarah’s eyebrows pulled down at the corners in confusion.

What on earth, she thought.

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Sarah reached down carefully and lifted the box into her arms, giving it a little shake to divine its contents. The sound that issued reminded her of chiffon sliding against cardboard, and when she lifted the lid, shock flooded her system. Inside rested six long-stemmed white roses covered in kingworms. Fat, wiggling things in tones of tan and earthy brown that clung to the small bouquet.

The shoebox shifted to her other hand for balance, and she reached in, lifting one rose out of the box and shaking off the crawlers that still hung on. Sarah brought the rose up and inhaled the cloyingly sweet floral scent with a warm grin.

Dropping the rose back in and sealing the box, Sarah glanced both ways down the street outside of her house. No one lingered on the road, but she guessed he waited out there somewhere. The young woman laughed loudly, sat the box down, and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Michael, you cheesy, sweet fucker,” she called. “I owe you something sloppy for this.”

Sarah lowered her hands, grabbed the box, and disappeared back inside. It took her all of fifteen minutes to grab a vase from under the kitchen sink and shake the roses off one by one to place them in their new home. She ran a delicate touch along the curve of a velvety soft petal and then carried the box, still full of squirming insects, into the living room.

Along the back wall, on a solid oak table, sat a large heated tank with a sleeping reptile perched on a rock. The bearded dragon basked under a fry warmer that Sarah nicked from her last job two years ago. She slid back the wire mesh lid and smiled down at the chunky guy in his resting spot.

“Hey Ernesto,” she greeted. “Mommy’s new squeeze brought you a treat.”

With that, she dumped the live contents of the box into the corner of his tank and pushed the wire top back into place. “Make sure you be nice to him when I finally introduce the two of you, yeah?”

One small beady eye flicked open and glanced toward the doomed worms writhing in the corner. Ernesto wriggled off the rock with enough determination to put a dying slug to shame. He flopped won next to an especially juicy looking worm, opened his mouth, and waited for the thing to shimmy into his gaping jaws.

“Ah,” Sarah commented, “The minimal effort approach. I can totally relate.”

Ernesto did not respond.

Sarah pursed her lips at the overgrown thing. She said, “Okay, well, I gotta jet. Got lots to do, you know. Your mommy’s planning a party, after all.”

Ernesto still said nothing.

“Ugh,” Sarah said with a roll of her eyes. “Your life is so hard. How do you make it through, little buddy?”

A few minutes later, and Sarah backed out of her parking spot and headed toward campus. She needed to pop by the dorms, see if she could get ahold of Pepsi, and book it to Henrietta’s Grab’n’Go. A busy day sprawled itself out before her. Slender fingers flipped open her pack of Now Menthols and tucked the filter between her lips as she spun the radio dial to her favorite radio station.

“Your listening to a commercial free hour on WNYS; you’re only choice for the dark side of the wave,” the dj said. “Here comes, Fading Away (She’s in Your Dreams) by The Danse Society.”

Her lighter sparked as she bobbed her head to the music, quilting her Prelude in the smell of tobacco. She rounded the corner into a tiny parking garage a block away from the dorms. The echo of another car reverberated off the concrete walls around her as she climbed out of the driver’s seat. She pulled a drag off her half-finished cigarette and pushed scuttled off to the front entrance of the girl’s dormitories.

A chilly blast of AC pressed against Sarah as she entered the building. Relief washed over her as the heat from a New York early summer melted away from her skin. The feeling skidded to a halt, coming face to face with Alison McMenamins and Sarah Carlson (AKA the ‘other’ Sarah). Briggson rarely ran into anyone from Kappa Tau Kappa in the dorms except during recruitment week, but it made sense considering their Victorian on Sorority Row sat wrapped in police tape.

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“Briggson,” Carlson began, giving the young woman a disdainful once over. “I know it must be hard for someone with your intellectual prowess to read, but the girl’s dorms are all smoke free now.”

“Yeah,” Alison agreed in true lackey fashion. “Haven’t you heard that smoking kills?”

Sarah Briggson beamed, “So do your mother’s hand jobs, Alison.” She gave the strawberry blond the finger as she passed.

“Dyke,” Sarah Carlson spat.

“Oh my god,” Briggson replied, spinning around to face the girl she raised a hand to her heart in faux shock. “Sarah, you’ve discovered my shameful secret. I am, alas, a huge carpet munching dyke. I guess it’s true what they say about how it takes one to know one. If you ever want to reenact The Little Dutch Boy, just give me a scream.”

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Crimson red rushed up the sides of Sarah Carlson’s swan-like neck and blossomed over her cheeks. For a moment, Carlson opened her mouth like she needed to speak, her eyes wide and horrified. Briggson watched as the other Sarah’s eyes darted around the hall, as if checking to make sure no one loitered to overhear the exchange of insults at hand.

Briggson wondered if the nerve she struck ran a little too deep, but the next instant the other Sarah’s eyes narrowed and the moment disappeared as quickly as it formed. The valley girl lifted a perfectly French manicured finger and pointed it at Sarah Briggson. Her chestnut brown hair freely swung forward into her face.

“Bite me, you narbo,” she hissed.

Alison pushed the other Sarah’s wrist down, clutching it in her grasp to pull her friend away. “C’mon, Sarah, she’s not worth it.” Then, in a quieter voice, she whispered, “Don’t set a poor example for the freshmen.”

Briggson watched the two disappear out the front door with a sigh. After they turned the corner from view, Sarah went to the same doors and flicked her cigarette into the open-top ash tray there. Conflicted feelings of triumph and regret waged a silent war in the woman’s mind.

On one hand, Briggson won the verbal sparring match with the KTK skanks, but on the other, she only won by stooping to a level she hated. For all she knew, Sarah Carlson protected herself like Fulk back in the day, sheathing herself in warped slurs and crude jokes. Briggson tore into her best friend in their junior year of high school for that same thing—she had two mothers, after all.

The young woman scarcely talked about it. Not because she felt ashamed. She loved her mothers more than Talking Heads, but because they lived a secret life too—afraid to tell even their closest friends. Fulk knew, of course, but only because he broke down on their homecoming night and confessed. Sarah’s parents loved her best friend like they loved her and treated him like a second child.

Sarah heaved a heavy sigh. I’ll hunt her down and apologize for it later, she thought. Just in case.

Lost in thought, the young woman wandered down the third-floor hallway until she realized she passed Rachel Ainsworth’s room by several doors. Sarah spun on her heals, dashed back down the hallway, and rapped out the beat to Shave and a Haircut on the particleboard. Instead of waiting for an answer, she simply called out to Rachel from the other side of the door.

“Hey, Ray,” she began. “I know you’re probably still recharging those social batteries, so don’t worry about answering. I’m sliding you the invite to Fulk’s twenty-fourth at my place. I’m off to go take the Pepsi challenge, so I’ll talk to you later.”

Sarah chuckled at the inside joke and slid a rumpled envelope from her back pocket under the gap of Rachel’s door. ‘Taking the Pepsi challenge’ came to Sarah last semester when she began hanging out with the guy. She used it as code to tell her friends that she was off to look for the spaz. Despite how many people felt about Michael Riley, Sarah actually liked him. The guy knew how to chill out and relax, and even though you never really knew if what he said held any truth, it didn’t matter.

Briggson walked across the quad ten minutes later just in time to hear Anna Summers laying into Pips over a photo he snapped.

“Pips, are you fucking serious right now,” Anna raged. “You better get rid of this picture. I don’t want to see my sister’s crying face plastered everywhere.”

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She watched as Pips clumsily apologized, grabbed the Polaroid off the ground, and burn it to ash. Sarah stood rooted, following the exchange as the young man went even further to console the ‘Party Princess’ of TripSig. If Sarah made a list of all the things she couldn’t stand, preps with entitled attitudes would top it. Sorority girls and jocks that called out the social missteps of others while patting themselves on the back for the same thing, or until they wanted something out of you.

Placing a gentle hand on her friend’s upper arm, she said, “No, Pips. You don’t need to do that. C’mon, I’ve got your invite for Fulk’s twenty-fourth with me.”

Sarah reached into her back pocket and pulled out another envelope which she passed to Pips. She smiled at the young man with the tinted aviators and tense shoulders. Pips, Sarah knew, lacked the usual tact and decorum that came naturally to other people, but that simply made him a hoser, and that meant he fit in just fine with her. Besides, she’d be lying if she ever claimed to not be one herself.

“By the way, I loved the roses,” Sarah smiled. “A little cheesy, but super sweet. Ernesto also loved his snack. How are you so thoughtful?” She rose up on tiptoe and gently pressed her lips to Pip’s cheek. Sarah knew the young man didn’t care too much for public affection, but she also knew he tolerated it when it proved genuine.

“Well, I gotta motor,” Briggson said. “Lots to do before tomorrow rears its head.” She lowered her voice, “If you want to invite your friend over there, that’s fine by me, but make sure she treats you like a friend. Talk to you later, Pips.”

As she made to leave, Sarah gave Anna one last discerning glance. “You have vomit in your hair, by the way.”
 
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Pips


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Pips felt the gentle touch on his upper arm, he turned and felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of Sarah. “No, Pips. You don’t need to do that. C’mon, I’ve got your invite for Fulk’s twenty-fourth with me.” she spoke gently.

“By the way, I loved the roses,” Sarah smiled. “A little cheesy, but super sweet. Ernesto also loved his snack. How are you so thoughtful?”

Pips smiled. He opened his lips to speak but paused before he could - now wasn't the right time to tell her he'd got the idea from the voices he heard from his transistor radio. "You know I have my ways." He said with his eyes closed behind his aviators.

As the young woman stood on the tips of her toes and pecked him on the cheek with a kiss, Pips couldn't help but feel his lips curl into a smile at the feeling of the butterflies in his stomach.

“Well, I gotta motor, Lots to do before tomorrow rears its head.”

"So soon?" Pips said as he raised his arms as if to keep her from leaving.


She lowered her voice, “If you want to invite your friend over there, that’s fine by me, but make sure she treats you like a friend. Talk to you later, Pips.”

He nodded and watched his muse trail off into the distance. He was distracted by the new image forming in his head - a collage portrait of Sarah's picturesque face made of magazine clippings of crime scenes and car accident photos. It was the perfect way to highlight her beauty - by creating it out of tragedy and morbidity. As he began to form the image in his head - his thought was cut short by the sound of tapping on a microphone and the swarming of journalists and students alike at a podium set up in the center of the quad.

Pips leaned over to Anna, "Looks like the deans doing a press conference!"
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Derek


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Derek's head swiveled around at the sound of feedback - the taping sounds of a finger on a microphone echoing throughout the campus. He could just see peaks of the crowd beginning to gather around the Dean of Student and the Cheif of Police in the quad.

"It's Dean Kipliff and a whole bunch of cops. It's a whole media circus." He exclaimed. He couldn't tell if he was excited at the sight of it or concerned about the implications of such a scene.

He looked back to Jordan, whose eyes had been transfixed on the sight beyond the branches of the trees that provided the shade. "It's gotta be pretty bad if they're doing all this don't you think?" He smirked and turned back to Jordan. "Think they'll cancel finals? What do they call it - pass by tragedy? Happened to my friends at Uni of Washington when Bundy was picking girls off there. Maybe we'll get an early start to the summer."







Dean Kipliff


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The Dean tapped on the microphone and eyed the crowd as the audio feedback echoed over the speakers set up on either side of him. The crowd mumbled amongst each other before quitting down. The students, the frenzied journalists, and staff of the university, all looked at him with confused and worried eyes. He cleared his throat, then shut his eyes.

"I'd like - to begin this conference with my most sincere heartfelt condolences to the family of Mrs. Whitmore. Everyone here on campus is part of a tight-knit community. The death of any student is enough to cause pain for everyone within the student body, but a soul as kind-hearted, as ambitious, and as well-liked as Kimberley Whitmore will leave a hole in this campus that will remain unfilled for years to come."

There was a moment of silence. The Dean turned to the Chief of Police who stood behind him to his left. The chief gave him an affirming nod.

"With that being said, we believe that the best course of action will be to cancel classes for the coming week. However, this will not cancel Final Exams. Students who believe this tragedy may be too much to bear in addition to the academic stress of exams will have to consult with their professors privately. "

The journalists had made their way towards the front of the crowd, one red-haired woman raised her hand eagerly. The Dean pointed to her. "You M'am."

"Do you believe the killer will strike again?"

The Dean turned back towards the Chief. Chief Williams stepped forward and cautiously took control of the microphone.

"We believe this to be an Isolated incident at the moment. Though we are taking precautions to keep students and staff safe here while on campus."

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Detective Irina O. BogdanovichMay 25th, 1985 | Sommerset, New York | Sigma Sorority House | 1:05PM
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Just before she can get back into her Cruiser, her Colleague had caught up with her and she had turned around so that she can face him. Irina ended up being a little surprised when the Deputy had told her that there was going to be a press conference at the university campus, much to her own chagrin when she was told that Chief Williams wanted her to be there. Getting out of bed instead of having extra time to sleep had left the expectant mother very agitated and partly moody, but her discipline thus far has kept her from lashing out in anger. Between being a police officer and a pregnant woman, Irina didn't even know which one was harder. "Alright, tell him I'll be there shortly." She responded as she continued closing the distance with her Cruiser, opening the door and getting in.

After putting her seatbelt on and getting comfortable, Irina started up the engine and turned on the police lights and the sirens before backing out and speeding off.

Ten Minutes Later...


It did not take Irina long to get to Sommerset University. Upon parking her cruiser, Irina got out after shutting everything off. Before going to the location of the press conference that was going to be taking place, she had stopped by the nearest restroom. Yeah, being pregnant was definitely hard, especially at the stage she was in; thirty-nine weeks to be exact. While her due date was after the last final, she wasn't sure if she was going to be delivering exactly on her due date, because only a small percentage of babies were born on their due date, most were born a little before if not a little after. She wasn't sure where her baby was on that scale, but Irina wasn't exactly the most eager to find out. After graduation though, one thing was for sure, she was going to be moving away from Sommerset and take some time off to care for her newborn as a Stay-at Home Mom and living closer to her parents who were currently living in Austin, Texas. It may not be the best place to raise a child, but she thought that her child deserved to grow up with their grandparents. Because the Father could not be located...and didn't bother to stay... Irina also didn't want her child to have that missing link. Her Father would fill the void in some capacity. Hopefully her Siblings were in the area. Because its been a few months since she last spoke to any of them, she could only wonder if they had children of their own or if they were even married.

As these thoughts continued to ride through her mind, Irina had finally made it to the Quad, where a lot of students and journalists have gathered. There was already quite the crowd. That alone made the seasoned Detective rather anxious. But this was the second murder in the last couple of days. Irina could not help but feel that the murders were connected. There was some evidence supporting that; such as the similar stabbing wounds and with them being within a few days of each other. Quietly, she took her place alongside the Police Chief moments before the press conference had began.

The Dean began by offering his condolences to the family and friends of the late Kimberly Whitmore. Irina did however, raise an eyebrow when Dean Kipliff stated that while lectures were going to be cancelled for the week, Finals would not. How was that going to work? Were students just going to be taking their exams and then just leaving? That was likely. Just go to class, take the exam, then get up and go home. While she was not close to Kimberly, Irina did agree that her death had left a hole in the student body and the campus. Soon, Chief Williams took to the Podium, he said that he believed that Kimberly's murder was an isolated incident, which left Irina rather annoyed. However, she continued to keep her poker face, which continued through the Chief's Statement that precautions will be taken to keep both the University Staff and Students safe. She then took it as her queue to take to the podium, feeling that Chief Williams was beating around the bush. The Journalists and the Students in the crowd wanted answers, and as a member of the student body herself, Irina thought it was only fair under the condition that she does not divulge too much concerning the ongoing investigation. Once the Chief stepped aside, Irina straightened out her clothing to remove any wrinkles or folds. "Thank you, Chief Williams." She said before facing the crowd, looking at the Journalists and Fellow Students. "I'm going to be quite honest and upfront with everyone here. As the lead detective in this investigation, I cannot, per protocol, release every detail as the investigation is ongoing." She then cleared her throat after facing away from the microphone. "I do not believe that what happened to Ms. Whitmore to have been an isolated incident. From what I have seen in my investigation, I believe differently, but as the Investigation is ongoing, I cannot divulge any further. I know this is a scary time, but I believe that Honesty is important as a member of this community and Sommerset Police Department will honor its promise to keep everyone safe and I will work with both the Chief and the Dean here on the safety measures and protocols that will be released later this afternoon. For right now, I will answer any questions you may have to the best of my ability." She ended her speech, before scanning the crowd.

Deputy Rodriguez, Chief Williams, Dean Kipliff Geun Sae Geun Sae
 
Jordan Fulkner
Date: May 25th, 1985
Time: 12:58 PM EST
Location: Campus Library, Front Lawn, Somerset University, New York
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Fulk frowned when Derek used the word psycho. The expression pulled at the corners of his mouth, and even though Fulk didn’t approve of the word, he wondered if some truth lingered behind it. Sarah still harbored it as a secret, but he felt positive the two of them were seeing each other. The psychology major couldn’t fathom why his best friend kept it hidden from him. Perhaps she waited for an opportune moment to throw itself in front of her.

Fulk shook his head and glanced toward Derek, catching his stormy hazel eyes. “Yeah, he’s the one. Pretty nice guy, believe it or not. A little strange, but harmless.” Fulk leaned forward and crossed his legs underneath himself, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah, yeah, count me in. I’ll bring some brewski’s and we can have a good time. Although, I’m a bit of a wimp. Promise you’ll hold my hand and shield my eyes if I get too scared?”

Anxiety ripped and tore at the back of Fulk’s brain, and he felt his shoulders stiffen. He couldn’t tell if Derek’s laugh appeared genuine or not. A terrifying notion roiled through him, quickening his heart and breaking a cold sweat at the nape of his neck. What if Derek knew? What if he somehow pieced together Fulk’s glances or smiles or the way he spoke, and this marked the beginning of some shameful torment?

Derek’s fist clenched and rushed toward him. Fulk flinched, his eyes slamming shut and lips pursing into a thin line. He expected blunt pain to rupture his senses, but felt a gentle push to his shoulder. Opening his eyes, Fulk saw found the same playful smile on the other man’s face, and he took a moment to unwind the tension from his neck and shoulders.

Just a joke, Fulk told himself. That’s all it is.

Fulk forced a laugh. “I can definitely do that,” he replied. “I’m a horror movie expert, after all. Tons of experience in that department.”

Not a lot in others, like talking to boys or knowing better than to flirt with the campus lady killer, his brain chimed in.

Derek’s head swiveled toward the podium set up in the quad when the PA system hummed to life. Fulk followed his gaze as a finger rapped against the wire mesh head of the microphone. The crowd around the makeshift stage went quiet, and when Dean Kipliff spoke, a whining burst of feedback echoed across the courtyard. Fulk winced at the abrupt assault.

“It’s Dean Kipliff and a bunch of cops. It’s a whole media circus. It’s gotta be pretty bad if they’re doing all this, don’t you think?” Derek exclaimed. Fulk eyed the young man sitting next to him from his peripheral and smiled at the look of excitement on his face. Derek Phillips really was adorable.

Derek turned back to Fulk, his eyes wide with excitement. “Think they’ll cancel finals,” he asked. Derek pressed on without waiting for Fulk to respond, “What do they call it—pass by tragedy? Happened to my friends at Uni of Washington when Bundy was picking off girls there. Maybe we’ll get an early start to the summer.”

Fulk laughed, not entirely sure that he should. Taking part in schadenfreude never sat quite right with him, but Derek’s face lit up like a searchlight when he smiled, and Fulk’s resistance evaporated whenever they sat close together. Jordan Fulkner wondered if Derek’s hair felt as soft as it looked, and he desperately wanted to find out. He gave his head a shake to clear away those feelings once more.

“Doubtful,” he replied. “Kipliff will probably cancel classes, putting everyone behind in their studies, and then announce that finals are still on the table. He doesn’t like to think things through.”

The address started with a speech about Kimberly’s impact on the campus. Fulk agreed with everything the man said, but Kipliff’s tone seemed too sympathetic—too rehearsed. The dean planned on saving face to the best of his ability. Finally, the announcement came for exams, and Fulk shrugged his shoulders.

“Saw that coming,” he said.

Chief Williams took the floor next and droned on about isolated incidents and safety precautions for the student body. After the chief, the hot seat passed to a younger woman with an obvious bun baking. Fulk ran into her around campus from time to time, but Sarah knew her a little better. They shared two classes together and often wound up in a pair together for assignments.

Sarah always told Fulk that badass was Irina’s middle name, but the young man’s jaw still dropped as she immediately disagreed with the police chief. He turned to face Derek and said, “What do you think she means that it’s not an isolated incident? You think she’s talking about that suicide?”

Fulk glanced down on the lawn between them, and came to the horrifying realization that his hand now rested across the top of Derek’s. He jerked it away, unaware of how it ended up there. Fulk needed to distract Derek with something else—make it look like no big deal.

“I-I’m glad you said yes, by the way,” he began with a shaky laugh. “About the-uh-birthday thing, I mean. It’s not totally lame, right?”

Smooth move, ex-lax, he thought.
 



Derek


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“Saw that coming" Fulkner replied.

Derek was grinning at the announcement. While the circumstances were much less than desirable he couldn't help but feel a sense of acute excitement, the same way a child gets excited on a snow day. In his head, he began to ponder over all the things he was going to do with his free week off from studying. His train of thought was cut short by the sound of a familiar stern voice.

He could see the familiar face of the officer who'd pulled him over for a speeding infraction earlier that year. His eyes lowered as he watched her speak. His eyes slowly lifted as he listened to her tell the crowd before her what everyone was afraid of.

"What do you think she means that it’s not an isolated incident? You think she’s talking about that suicide?” Jordan said softly.

"I guess so. Two people hacked up in the span of a week? Jesus, we might really have a serial killer on campus." Derek whispered. He felt a weight lightly press down on his hand, he glanced down and noticed that Jordan's hand had moved atop of his. Derek smiled and chose to ignore it. He knew Jordan was a soft guy, he didn't see any reason to humiliate him for it.

“I-I’m glad you said yes, by the way,” Jordan said through shaky laugh. “About the-uh-birthday thing, I mean. It’s not totally lame, right?”

Derek smiled. While he'd never admit it, he found something viscerally exciting about horror movies. Something about the contained anxiety and the safety of the danger behind the screen always filled him with both a sense of dread and excitement. It was the same nervous feeling he got in the pit of his stomach before he was up to bat.

"No it'll be fun! Slasher flicks with a killer on campus and a potential psycho in attendance? Sounds like a blast to me."

JesseMarshall JesseMarshall







Deputy Rodriguez

Rodriguez arrived shortly after Bogdanovich began speaking. He watched in shock as she told the crowd her view on the situation. The reporters swarmed her with questions. "Are there any suspects?" "Do you know why Ms. Whitmore was targeted?" "Does this have anything to do with the original Sommerset killings?"

Eventually, her time came to a close. Deputy Rodriguez watched as the Dean and the Cheif both returned to the mic to offer closing statements. They were both visually frustrated with the situation.

Rodriguez made his way through the bustling crowd of reporters and students. One woman stood before a camera, tightly holding a microphone in her hand. "Authorities are giving conflicting reports about the situation - be the consensus seems to be these are not isolated incidents, there is a killer loose on this campus."

He finally caught up to Bogdanovich, interrupting a conversation she was having with a staff member of the campus. "You realize if the killer doesn't get you first - chief Williams will? That was quite the stunt you pulled detective."
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