Page 25 of Frat Row

Groggily, I open my eyes and reach for my glasses on the nightstand. My eyes snap open because I don’t immediately recognize where I’m at. But I feel Tyler behind me, snoring lightly, suddenly remembering I’m with him at the frat house. Instantly, my breathing slows down.

This place is the quietest I’ll probably ever see it as I make my way down the hallway and toward the stairs. I head down the stairs, but I can’t remember which way is the kitchen.

Oh well, I guess I’ll run into it whenever I get to it; it can’t be that hard.

I start searching downstairs. There's a hallway with a gate in the archway that looks vaguely familiar, so my body leads me that way, licking my lips. The need for a Gatorade overpowers my thoughts; anything to quench my thirst propels me forward, exhaustion taking over.

The gate is unlocked, so I step through. The house is old, and this must be one of the quirks they never remodeled or removed.

There are multiple doors, and the kitchen has to be back here. I try to recall the floor plan from when we were down here last night, and I’m pretty positive I went the right way.

I try the first door. It’s a broom closet, so I quickly shut it. “Ugh.” I annoyingly groan to myself.

I head to the next door; it seems like it could be a bigger room since the door after this one is further away. The hallway is a regular, beige color, pretty typical for Greek houses, always with white baseboards.

It’s very dark as I open the door, so I search for a light switch on the wall nearest to me, and I hear a sudden movement in the room.

I freeze up, unable to see shit, and attempt to squint.

I try to make out the room I accidentally came upon.

There’s not a window in sight, which would explain the darkness.

Suddenly, the hair on my arms sticks up, and goosebumps appear, my stomach dropping in sudden fear.

Scratching.

Whipping my head around and squinting again, I make out these black box-looking things. Could those be dog cages? They are lined up against the walls. It’s not uncommon for brothers to have dogs. I love dogs. So, forgetting my need for a drink, I excitedly move toward the cages.

Reaching out, I realize they have sheets over them. Black sheets. I’ve also personally done this with our dogs when I was growing up. It makes the dog feel more confined in the space and more comfortable, especially puppies.

Deciding on the dog crate closest to me, I fumble around a little bit and pull back the sheet. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but I’m only able to see maybe six inches in front of me.

As I pull the sheet back, I gasp loudly and throw my hands over my mouth, jerking backwards and tripping on the ground, falling on my butt in disbelief. The sheet falls back into place.

My mind must be playing tricks on me. I am really exhausted because there’s no way this can be happening right now.

Shaking all over, terror slowly seeps through my body. I breathe deeply in through my nose and out through my mouth. I feel lightheaded. Wake up, Cassidy, this is a bad dream. I cross my arms, trying to protect myself.

Summoning all the courage in me, I extend my arm for the sheet again. All I can feel is my rapid heartbeat in my throat, and my legs are trembling.

Taking the sheet in my hands, I slowly move it back above the crate and make eye contact with a woman around my age.

Her mouth is taped, and her hands appear to be zip-tied behind her back.

She’s in a huge T-shirt and looks like she hasn’t bathed in days.

Tears begin to form in her eyes, and she starts trying to form words and sounds, gesturing with her head.

My throat feels like rocks are shoved down it, and I don’t even know how to process what I am seeing.

Barely, my voice comes out, not sounding like myself at all. “I’m going to get you out of here.” She looks at me and then looks around frantically, seeing the other crates, and I quickly count them. There are eleven of them.

Looking petrified, the girl rapidly nods as if answering the silent question in my head: Is there more of you?

Suddenly, I fully take in the room and slow my breathing, and the smell of the room hits me at once. I look at the cage and notice a little bucket. I gag when my eyes land upon it, knowing what it is, and hope that the woman doesn’t see it.

I begin looking around the outside of the cage. There is a lock on the front of it. She starts making noises and trying to get me to look around by making motions with her head.

“Please be quiet,” I furiously whisper. “I don’t know what the hell is going on or what we are dealing with here.”

Directly behind me, next to the door, hangs a lanyard with a key attached to it. I also notice a few light switches. I click the one closest to me, and it turns on a subtle light near the doorway, which is just enough to make out my surroundings.

Practically leaping up and sprinting while losing my balance, I yank it off the hook and rush back to the crate, shaking so badly that I can’t get the key in the lock at first.

“Be as quiet as you can. I don’t want them to hear us. I’m going to get you and anyone else out of here no matter what.” I plead with her with determination in my eyes.

After willing my hands to stop moving, I shove the key into the lock, turning it as quickly as I can, and it opens. The girl crawls out of the crate, readjusting herself and trying to walk. I rip the tape off her mouth, and she jerks back in pain.

“We need scissors to cut the zip tie,” I say breathlessly.

“There are knives in the closet,” she whispers back to me, looking me directly in the eye, intensely wanting the hell out of here.

I didn’t see a closet earlier, and a small shiver goes through me, thinking about how the fuck she knows where the knives are at.

I locate the closet and fling open the door, and sure enough, there is a whole case of knives and other tools, which I don’t want to think about. There also seems to be what looks like used sex toys.

I see a few dildos with dried blood on the ends. Either they were used recently, or whoever uses them doesn’t clean them. More shivers run through my body as I think about either of those options. I shake my head. No, don’t go there; we have to get out of here.

Closing my mouth super tight to stop myself from getting sick to my stomach, I start sawing her zip tie to free her.

Finally, it pops open, releasing her.

“What’s your name?” I ask her, still whispering.

“Jasmine,” she says, rubbing her wrists that look very infected. They are red, completely raw, with older-looking sores. I calculate that she has probably been here a few days, and I try not to get sick again.

“We have to get the others out now!” I whisper-yell at her.

Turning toward them, I start forcefully throwing the sheets off and unlocking all of the crates.

Women around my age fall out of them, breathing hard and landing on their shoulders.

They must have heard what was going on. All of them look very malnourished, with a vacant look in their eyes.

I know that look, the look of no hope. Jasmine finds another knife, and we both get to work on their zip ties.

All of the girls look to her. She must be a leader among them.

I just stand there, completely in shock, not really knowing how to make myself useful, and let Jasmine take the lead on the women.

“We have to get out of here,” I tell them. “Right now!”

Nodding frantically and walking over to me, they form a circle.

“The only way out is through the door you came in,” Jasmine says.

“Let’s go quickly.” I turn around and jog over to the door.

Opening it, I rush out with Jasmine and the girls filing out directly behind me.

I lock eyes on the gate in the hallway that I came through, and all of a sudden, it begins shutting slowly, and I hear the lock as it clicks shut.

I gasp when I notice two guys appear behind the gate, smiling wickedly.

One guy approaches the gate, pressing his head against it.

The gears shift in my mind. He looks vaguely familiar.

Then, the realization comes crashing over me. It’s their fucking president—Archer.