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Good Girls

Make More

Good Girls

Aspire to be less.

               a   freshman   approaches   her   with   a   green   glow   stick.   quinn   politely   declines,   waving   her   hand   to   shoo   them   away;   bravado   she   would   later   come   to   regret.   she   enters   with   the   confidence   she   was   born   into.   a   steadfast   belief   she's   above   it   all—   you   know   the   type:   everyone   else   but   me.   exclusivity   from   human   frailty.   closer   to   god   than   man.   it   was   the   morrison   way   and   quinn   was   not   immune.

               at   first,   she's   presented   with   options:   a   staircase   with   a   ghoulish   figure   looming   and   a   claustrophobic   hallway   of   chains.   she   would   rather   take   on   an   opponent   she   can   see   so   she   chooses   the   stairs.   as   expected,   the   robed   figure   lunges   at   her   as   she   reaches   the   top.   she   pushes   back,   laughing.   this   wasn't   scary.   this   was   corny.   this   was   camp.   it   was   a      kkg   event   after   all.   she   should   have   known   to   lower   her   expectations.

               quinn   has   little   interest   in   the   party   laying   ahead;   the   same   as   every   year   before.      in   fact,   she's   only   making   an   appearance   because   that   was   what   was   expected   of   the   greek   letters.   for   all   the   rivalry   between   them,   they   made   sure   to   show   up   to   each   other's   occasions   as   a   point   of   cooperation.   she   was   tri   delt's   vice   president   of   recruitment,   so   personal   choice   was   outside   the   equation.   she   did   her   best   not   to   be   the   rain   on   everyone's   parade...   by   this   point   in   the   halloween   season,   in   all   honesty,   her   social   battery   was   draining   fast.

               she   moves   forward   through   the   haunted   house,   coiled   hair   bouncing   on   her   proud   shoulders.   the   sophomore   finds   herself   in   an   empty   room.   her   first   impression?   apathetic.   the   room   is   wallpapered   white   with   some   pictures   plastered   on   top.      she   gets   closer.   curiosity,   as   usual,   reaping   bitter   fruit.   

she   recognises   a   word   emblazoned   over   and   over   again   in   bold   block   letters.   

          MISSING         

the   brunette   steps   back,   first   in   shock,   then   again   in   disgust.   a   weight   drops   in   her   abdomen.   with   a   nauseous   gulp,   she   turns   and   walks   out   as   fast   as   her   tiny   frame   is   able.   blinded   by   revulsion,   quinn   opens   the   next   door   she   sees,   hoping   for   an   exit.   she   isn't   paying   attention.   the   memory   of   greer   is   suffocating   her   senses   just   enough   for   idle   complacency   to   mutate   into   foolishness.   this   next   room   is   pitch   black   and   out   from   the   shadows   comes   a   paunchy   man   dressed   as   a   clown   —   face   paint   and   all.   he   makes   a   grab   for   her.   quinn   screams.

                      by   the   time   she   runs   all   the   way   back   to   the   entrance   she's   pale   and   clammy.   she   falters   over   the   front   step,   vision   blurred,   and   vomits.   exorcist-style.