Chapter 9:

#Slasher Scene

Monday morning, 7:45 a.m.

“It’s just another manic Monday. I wish it were Sunday,” I sang, stuffing a bagel in my mouth and grabbing my books. I knew Eleanor wouldn't get the music reference.

Eleanor, still in her pajamas, looked comatose. Like most Computer Science majors, she wasn’t a morning person. It was surprising to see her up this early. With my late nights at the restaurant and early morning classes, we rarely crossed paths. When we did, it was usually her sneaking a midnight snack after hours behind her computer screen. Gabe was hardly ever around, mostly staying at his boyfriend’s place. Honestly, it was the perfect roommate situation.

“Tell me about it. It’s a miracle I dragged myself out of bed,” she muttered, shuffling across the kitchen tiles with a giant mug in hand, her feet in bedroom slippers. “Got an advisor meeting this morning on campus. I signed up late, so the only slots left were these god-awful early morning ones.” She squinted and recoiled from the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, like a zombie caught in daylight.

“See ya. I’ve got my first biology lab.” I headed for the door, eager not to be late. No need to get too chummy with her.

I dashed into the parking lot, squeezing between my VW Beetle and Gabe’s blue Rivian. Something seemed off as I glanced at Herbie. My stomach sank. One of the front tires was flat. Not today! I should’ve spent the extra money over the summer and replaced those old tires.

I grabbed the spare from the trunk but stopped short when I noticed something alarming: pieces of rubber scattered across the blacktop like debris from a Formula One race. As I inspected further, my heart sank. The tires weren't just worn; someone had slashed them! And not just the front. All four tires. When I looked up, I noticed the backlights had been smashed as well.

What the hell?
It hit me—someone had vandalized my car. My palms became sweaty as they gripped the melted rubber. 

Getting dirty looks from classmates was one thing, but this? Could it have been the same person who left the death threat?
This wasn’t just social projectile vomit on repeat.
This was next-level malicious.

My blood pounded while my insides shook.
I hadn’t realized it was possible to be furious and terrified at the same time.

Maybe everyone was right.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come back.
Maybe I don’t belong.

Eleanor walked by on her way to her car. “What’s going on? You look like you just ate a bowl of flaming hot Cheetos.” Ugh. The last thing I needed right now was her unfiltered commentary.

“My tires have been slashed, and someone smashed one of my back lights,” I said, feeling the heat rise in my face despite the morning breeze.

“Oh!” She looked genuinely shocked. “Why didn’t the car alarm go off?”

“Herbie doesn’t have an alarm,” I muttered, continuing to check for more damage.

“What? Seriously?” She came closer to inspect the damage herself.

“I’m on my way to campus. I can give you a ride if you need one,” she offered unexpectedly. I barely knew her or Gabe, and yet, here she was, offering to help.

“Thanks, but I’ll call a rideshare,” I said, pulling out my phone.

“When does your lab start?” she asked.

“In ten minutes.”

“A taxi’s going to take forever. I’ll drive you. But you’ve got to promise me one of those BTS chocolates,” she teased, nudging my shoulder as she headed to her car.

“What are you talking about?” I tilted my head, confused.

“Sorry! I, uh, kinda borrowed one of your chocolates yesterday. They were on the counter, and they smelled amazing,” she confessed, puffing out her lower lip in guilt.

I should’ve been mad about her raiding my stash of chocolates, but I didn’t have the energy. Plus, I really needed a ride. At least she took from a safe batch.

“Okay, sure. Thanks for the lift—but what do you mean by BTS? Like the K-pop boy band?” I asked, puzzled. What is it with people and boy bands?

“No, better than…” she said, rolling her eyes with a smile.

I knew exactly what she meant.

***