Brielle feels like she is going through a haze. Like nothing is making clear sense.

Officer Minton took their statements and alibis (gosh they actually needed alibis) individually. She doesn’t know if they all had a solid one, but she did, having been at McDonalds during the Warner’s Park attack. There will be security footage. Witness accounts. Her credit card notification, and she still had the receipt.

How is this her life that she has to worry about if there was iron clad evidence of her eating fries?

Being the last one questioned, she walked out and saw she had a text from Song.

“Meet in my dorm, 22.”

As she walks into the dorm building, swiping her student ID and aggressively shaking the handle until the old door opens, she wonders if it is a good idea to hang with the other suspects.

She doesn’t believe any of them could have a hand in whatever the heck is going on, but she shouldn’t assume she knows them. Assumptions get people killed in the movies and in real life.

Even with these thoughts, she can’t help but find herself in front of Dorm 22. It has a whiteboard that has Song’s name is curvy cursive with drawn flowers on it.

Just as she is about to knock, it whips open and she is pulled into the room.

“Hey guys,” she greets weakly, not quite sure what to say in this scenario. There is a circle rainbow rug in the center in which Ellis and Anette were seated around it. When Song joins them, it looks like a cult or ritual.

“You don’t have a roommate?” Brielle asks, noticing how only one of the beds had sheets on.

“Yeah, I was lucky. My roommate transferred early on.”

She sits in the circle, completing the shape.

None of them say anything.

“Ok, none of us has the resources or stomach to kill at Warner’s Park,” Anette begins.

“I assume you all have alibis.” It sounds like a question, but Ellis has a pretty neutral face, so Brielle believes it is just a statement.

Even though he isn’t looking for a confirmation, Brielle offers it up anyway, “I was at McDonalds.”

“I went home for the weekend,” Song responds. Brielle nods. There would be camera footage and witness accounts for Song then.

“My anatomy class had a huge test that I procrastinated in studying for. I was in the library all day,” Anette sounds a bit exasperated, like they are wasting their breath. She would have been on the library and campus cameras and the librarian’s backing.

They all turn to Ellis in unison. He sighs and gives his alibi. “My brother and I went to the mall because he needed to figure out what to get his boyfriend for his birthday. We were there for hours since he is sappy and said the gift needed to mean something.” Good. The mall would have him going in stores. And his brother could be a strong alibi.

“Ok now that we all know that none of us did it, like I said earlier, what do we do?” Anette is annoyed but she is just scared. Like they all are.

“We are all suspects. But the police must have more, right?” Song points, hopeful. She winds her hair between her fingers. Brielle’s eyes can’t help but watch the motion.

Ellis leans back onto his hands, very relaxed for the situation. “None of us have anything to hide. So let them investigate us.” His nonplussed attitude was really starting to tick Brielle off.

“It doesn’t bother you? That someone took our stories for some kind of demented mission?” Brielle asks, raising her eyebrow at him. Her incredulous tone seeping heavily into her words.

“So you think all of ours happened?” Song inquires. The strands of hair wrapped around her finger loosens as she lowers the pressure. With no knowledge of any of their stories, other than the quick summaries they gave each other before, Brielle isn’t sure how bad they are. Maybe they are really graphic or someone really suffers. Anette’s definitely will be painful.

“I think at least one more of ours did. Possible more depending on how public the setting of your stories were,” Brielle thinks aloud.

Ellis was the only one with confirmation with his being at an amusement park. It doesn’t get any more public than that. “Do you really think that the police will think we all had a hand in any of these crimes? We just wrote these stories for a school assignment.” Brielle guesses he has a point. Maybe they’ll be ok?

Anette appears to agree with an emphatic nod of her head. “It isn’t our faults that some nut job somehow got them and used them as inspiration or some psycho shit.”

“How did they even get our stories anyway?” Song interjects.

Her question hangs in the air for a moment. It has Brielle’s mind racing. More unknowns popping up.

“Did any of you rewrite your story and post it anywhere?”

With a chorus of no’s, then that leaves one person. “Professor T did not kill anyone,” Ellis throws out, seeing where everyone’s thoughts were going.

“But he’s the only one with access to all of our stories. He may not have done the killing but he may have been the distributor,” Song says. Brielle could see the gears turning in her head. Puzzle pieces fitting into place.

With all the subtlety of an apathetic college man, Ellis rolls his eyes. “Come on. These are horror stories by college students who aren’t even writing majors, not expensive drugs. There’s got to be other stories, better stories, to have dealt if he did do this.”

None of it makes sense. Did he post or distribute their assignments? And why? Why them? Did he know what would happen? Did he not care?

“Brielle, I can see you thinking. Would you like to share with the class?” Anette teased, a smirk on her face which baffles Brielle on how she could at a time like this.

“Professor Tark would’ve been the person to report our stories to the police. That Ellis’ story was too similar to Warner’s Park. Why would he do that if he was the one to either distribute it or do it himself?” Brielle maps out her thoughts, hoping they understand her line of thinking. Sometimes they only make sense in her head.

“That’s assuming Professor T was the one to report it,” Ellis points out. When Brielle and Song look at him with a mix of confusion and disbelief, he continues, “What? If we are going to talk about conspiracies and murders, we should look at the facts. Which we have very few of.”

Brielle berates herself mentally. Everything is allegedly until proven innocent. Or guilty.

“Are we really doing this?” Anette asks, though by her posture, leaning forward with attentive eyes, she is more interested. Maybe she wants to see this play out. It may be a game to her. But at least she’s involved. They are gonna need everyone.

“We are suspects. Throw out what I said before. We are most likely the police’s only suspects. What’s the best way to get yourself off that list?” Song lets it go silent for dramatic effect.

Then she hits them with the movie tagline.

“We find the killer ourselves.”