Chapter 7

The sound of my footsteps echoed in the empty streets as I sprinted back to my dorm, heart pounding in my chest, blood roaring in my ears. I couldn’t stop the grin that stretched across my face, despite the heaviness in my stomach. I had done it. I had won. Those three—Marius, Damon, Tyrone—they had underestimated me. They thought they could chase me down, toy with me like they did with every other girl at that party, but I’d outplayed them. Hell, I’d embarrassed them. The thought of Damon’s stunned face after I flipped him over my shoulder sent a surge of satisfaction through me. I was good. Better than good. I was untouchable.

But that smug satisfaction didn’t last long. As I rounded the corner to my dorm, a chill ran down my spine. I had used my training—the skills i swore not to—against them. Moves that should have been kept secret. I’d been so caught up in the rush of it all, in the game, that I’d slipped. My hands clenched at my sides, the sensation of their eyes still burning on me like a brand. They had seen me. Not just the me i wanted everyone to see— but the real me. The one who didn’t play by the rules. The one who didn’t fear confrontation.

I had to be careful. I had no idea who those men were—what they were really after—but I knew one thing for sure: I couldn’t afford to let them see me as a threat. Not again. Not like that.

I threw open the door to my room, locking it behind me before collapsing onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. The faint hum of the streets outside drifted through the window, but my mind was elsewhere—on the Sigma Phi house, on those three.

I hadn’t expected to see them again when everyone scattered at the graveyard, but I had. Everywhere I went, it seemed like they were watching from a distance—Marius always a few steps ahead, Damon lurking with his piercing gaze, and Tyrone, that goddamn silent observer, who seemed to know exactly where to be at the right time. They had tracked me. I didn’t know how, but it didn’t take a genius to realize that they wouldn’t give up after i humiliated them so spectacularly.

The look on their faces when I left, told me they would always there—waiting, watching, like shadows at the edge of my vision. I couldn’t escape them, not while I was at Cornell. The campus was too small, the eyes too many. They’d know where I was, and I’d be right under their gaze every time.

They were looking for something. But what? And more importantly, why me? What was it about me that had made them decide I was worth chasing? The ringing of my phone cut through the silence. I glanced at the screen. Angie. I hadn’t spoken to her since the party—hadn’t had the chance. She’d gotten lost in the chaos, and I’d made sure she didn’t see what I had to do to get away. I couldn’t let her know how close they had come to catching me.

I hit answer. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual, even though my heart was still racing.

“Where did you go?” Angie’s voice was filled with concern. “I lost you back there. I didn’t see you leave.”

I leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling again. “Yeah, I just... I had to get out of there. It was a little too much.”

She paused. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just... tired, I guess. It’s been a long night.”

“Right,” she replied, though I could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “You sure you don’t want to come by for a bit? The boys are still here.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to go back. Not now. Not with them still lurking in the background. But I didn’t want to worry her. “I’ll be fine, Angie. I just need some time to wind down.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “But if you change your mind, I’m here.”

I smiled, though it felt hollow. “Thanks.”

After hanging up, I turned onto my side, curling up beneath the covers. The room felt too quiet, the stillness almost suffocating. Tomorrow, I’d have to face them again. But how could I avoid them when it felt like they were everywhere? The halls, the library, even the quad. They would always be nearby, always close enough to make me feel like I was under surveillance.

I wasn’t going to let them get to me, though. I couldn’t. They didn’t know who they were dealing with. I had to stay under their radar. But something told me that wouldn’t be easy.

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Monday morning - The first lecture of the week hits me hard. Introduction to Cognitive Psychology should be a straightforward class—attention, perception, decision-making—but my mind keeps drifting. I outplayed them. A brief smirk crosses my lips as I think about the night of the Sigma Phi party. But the satisfaction fades just as quickly. Blending in is the real game now.

As the professor discusses how perception shapes reality, I can’t help but think about Marius, Damon, and Tyrone. They have an uncanny ability to control how others see them, to twist perception in their favor. But I’m not like them. Am I?

In the afternoon, Philosophy of Mind draws me in. We’re discussing Cartesian dualism, the separation of mind and body. Masks, illusions, perception. My mind shifts back to the Sigma Phi men. Damon's mask was literal. Marius’s? Always figurative, always in control. And Tyrone—he sees through everything, but never lets on.

Back in my dorm that evening, I stare at my books, but the words blur together. I tell myself it’s just an academic interest, that I’m analyzing them the way I would a case study. But the truth gnaws at me. What if I’m already caught in their web?

Tuesday arrives and Research Methods in Psychology should be simple—designing experiments, controlling variables. But as I listen, I realize how much of my life has been a series of carefully crafted experiments in manipulation.

Tyrone sits at the front of the class, absorbed in his notes, completely unbothered. But I can still feel the weight of his gaze from that night, the way he had studied me like I was a puzzle he needed to solve. I force myself to look away. Focus. Don’t engage. Don’t get involved.

Philosophy of Language in the afternoon is about how words shape thought. I’ve used language to control my own narrative—to keep people at arm’s length. They do the same thing, I realize. They let people see what they want them to see.

I catch Damon watching me from the back of the classroom. The corner of his mouth quirks up, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I ignore him and disappear into the crowd.

That night, I try to study, but my mind circles back to one thought: If I can’t control how they see me, am I just another experiment to them?

A bleak Wednesday morning rolls around with Neuropsychology, we discuss how the brain responds to stress and fear. I immediately think of the graveyard chase—the way my instincts had taken over, the pulse-pounding exhilaration of running, knowing they were just behind me.

Tyrone’s presence was the most unnerving. He was calm. Collected. Calculated. Does he see me as a challenge? Or as something else?

Philosophy of Ethics in the afternoon forces me to confront a question I don’t want to answer. Was I complicit in the game that night?

I glance at Marius a few rows ahead. He’s listening intently, but when my gaze lingers too long, his shifts toward me. My stomach tightens, and I quickly look away.

We’re both playing games. But I don’t know who’s winning.

That night, I find myself in the library, researching psychological theories. I don’t want to admit it, but I want to understand them. Why do they have so much power over me?

I pull up a search bar and type in their names. Then, just as quickly, I erase it. No paper trail.

Thursday morning was Abnormal Psychology is about antisocial behavior and psychopathy. I take notes, but my mind drifts.

Are they playing this game because they think they can control me? Or is there something darker at play?

I dismiss the thought. I’m overthinking. But I can’t ignore the way Tyrone’s patience unsettles me, how Marius’s control is absolute, how Damon—Damon, with that damn smirk—gets under my skin.

Philosophy of Science should be a welcome distraction, but it only makes me question more. Am I shaping my own reality, or am I letting them shape it for me?

The start of Friday brought Social Psychology is about group behavior and conformity. I hate how much it feels like the professor is speaking directly to me. I don’t want to be a pawn in their game.

And yet…

I glance across the room. Damon is watching the professor, not taking notes, that same knowing smirk playing at his lips. He doesn’t play by the rules. And that’s what scares me.

In Philosophical Problems in Ethics, we discuss moral dilemmas. I think about power, about choice, about the illusion of control.

Am I already too deep in this?

In the evening I don’t expect to run into Marius.

He’s waiting, standing too still, too calm. His presence commands the space around him, making people instinctively shift out of his way.

His eyes lock onto mine, dark and assessing. “How are your classes going?”

It’s a simple question. A normal one.

But my heart races.

I don’t answer. I can’t. I slip into a passing group of students, disappearing before he can say anything else.

But even as I walk away, I know the truth.

They’re everywhere. I can’t escape them.