The Rich Girl Dorm Trap

I ran into Chloe again while picking up a food order. Late.

She looked wrecked—like a skeleton trying to breathe—curled up in the garden, quietly sobbing.

I didn't want to deal with her, but she saw me.

She looked up, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

A deep gash cut from the corner of her eye back toward her ear. Deep enough to make your stomach turn. Crumbs were stuck in it, like someone had mashed a cookie into her face.

She grabbed my hand. "You laughing at me? Seeing me like this—happy? Glad I took Room 502 from you?"

I shook her off and stepped back. "I don't know what you're talking about. If you don't treat that cut, it's gonna scar."

She burst out laughing, high and unhinged. "Scar? They don't keep pets unless they're marked. They want it to stay.

"You know how messed up they are? They make me wipe them after the bathroom. I can't even talk in my sleep. If I clench my teeth, I get slapped.

"I'm losing it. I haven't slept a full night since school started. They're gonna torture me to death. Do you know that? Do you—"

I looked at her, flat. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Our eyes locked.

Something clicked.

She staggered back. "You came back too?"

I didn't answer.

Her venomous eyes lit up again. "If you came back, why'd you just watch me walk into hell? We worked so hard to get into this school. How could you do this to me?"

Her hysteria almost made me laugh.

"Wasn't this your choice? The 'nerd dorm' you trashed is heaven to me. The rich-girl dorm you dreamed about? That's your hell now. Same choice, different lives. Maybe think about why."

That did it.

Chloe snapped.

She lunged—just like last time—slamming me to the ground, hands locking around my throat.

"Bitch. I'll kill you."

My fingers brushed a loose brick—

A cold voice cut in behind us.

"Chloe, where are you? We're waiting. The horse game's short a player."

Chloe froze, like something had taken over.

Fear flooded her face.

She didn't even glance at me, still gasping on the ground. She turned and ran, stiff and jerky.

I pushed myself up and brushed the dirt off my clothes.

Carrying the food order back to the dorm, I caught sight of Ruth Lolley from 502—standing in the shadows at the corner.

She smiled—sweet, innocent—and showed her teeth.

Ruth had that doll-like face. In my last life, when they were breaking me down, she was always the gentle one. Soft voice, kind words. Made me think she was my only way out.

She wasn't.

She was the worst of them.

So many girls had cycled through 502.

Every single one? Picked by her.

She had this thing about cleanliness, too. One time, I didn't wash her socks right. She shoved my head into the toilet. Almost drowned me.

That suffocating shame and despair still clung to me.

My legs gave out. I dropped.

Seeing me like that—weak, pathetic—her expression sharpened. Like a hunter closing in.

"Hey, little bunny. Wanna join us?"