Chapter 1: Introduction
The clatter of stiletto heels on the ornate wooden floors echoed through the grand halls of the sorority house, a symphony of power and privilege. The ivy-covered walls whispered ancient secrets, while the laughter of sorority sisters carried on the night breeze, mingling with the faint scent of expensive perfume and the hint of something stronger—an illicit party in the making.
In the heart of the sprawling Victorian mansion, Abigail, the sorority's reigning queen bee, sat on the plush velvet couch in the common room, her long, blonde hair cascading over one shoulder like a waterfall of gold.
She was the epitome of sorority royalty, her blue eyes scanning the room with a critical gaze, taking in the sea of eager faces surrounding her. The sisters hung onto her every word, their eyes wide with admiration and a touch of fear.
"You know, girls," she drawled, her voice dripping with her signature Southern charm, "being the head of this sorority isn't just about looking good and partying hard.
It's about protecting our sisterhood and maintaining our reputation." She paused, her eyes landing on Tilly, who was perched on the arm of a nearby sofa, her legs crossed at the ankles, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. Tilly was a classic mean bimbo, her blonde hair teased into a perfectly imperfect mess, her Valley girl accent as exaggerated as her cleavage.
"And how do we do that, Abigail?" Tilly asked, her voice a saccharine sweet purr. "By keeping the boys in line, of course," Abigail replied, her gaze flicking back to her adoring audience.
"They might think they're in charge, but we all know who really runs this campus." She gave a self assured smile. "And sometimes, we need to give them a little reminder."
Tilly's grin widened. "Like that time you put laxatives in Marcus's coffee?" she giggled. "Or when you switched James’ shampoo with hair remover?"
“Exactly. So for this week’s sorority task, I want each of you to find a guy on campus, one who thinks he’s smarter or better than us girls, and tear him down a peg. Get creative, ladies! Whoever does the best work gets to sit at the president’s table at our mixer with Kappa Phi. Make Chi Omega proud, girls, and above all else, don’t disappoint me.” Abigail said, her sweet, encouraging tone undercut but the clear threat of consequences if disobeyed. She sat back, taking a sip of her wine, watching as the room buzzed with excitement and whispered plans.
Tilly, however, didn't join the fray. Instead, she leaned in, a devious glint in her eye. "You know, Abby," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial, "I've got just the guy in mind. But I was thinking, maybe we could do something... different this time."
Abigail arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, really?
Do tell, Tilly," Abigail said, her interest piqued as she set her wine glass down on the glass coffee table. She knew better than to encourage Tilly's antics, but the devilish twinkle in her eye was difficult to resist.
Tilly's grin widened, and she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I've been sneaking into that weird loner's room—you know, the one who's always talking about ghosts and spells and all that freaky stuff?" She rolled her eyes for dramatic effect.
"Luke, right? Anyways, I've been nosing around his stuff, and I found this book. It's all about spells and potions and stuff." She leaned back, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "I thought we could use one to teach that nerd a lesson."
Abigail's eyes narrowed, her curiosity piqued. "Spells? Like, real spells?" she asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice.
Tilly shrugged, her smile never wavering. "Who knows? But it's not like it's gonna do anything, right?
It's probably just a bunch of crazy made-up stuff," Tilly assured Abigail, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But imagine the look on Luke's face when we tell him we hexed him! He won't know what hit him."
Abigail leaned back into the velvet cushions, a slow smile spreading across her face. She could already see the headlines in the campus newspaper: "Sorority Queen Casts Spell on Nerd, Teaches Him a Lesson in Humility." It was too perfect.
Luke had been a thorn in her side since freshman year, always with his nose buried in some dusty tome or another, completely uninterested in having an actual social life. He was the first guy who had ever turned down a flyer from Abigail for a sorority event, and it had created a lasting impression. Abigail had enjoyed teasing and bullying him ever since. She couldn't resist the opportunity to put him in his place, even if it meant playing along with Tilly's little game.
"Alright, Tilly. Hand over the book," Abigail said, holding out her manicured hand. Tilly's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered and slipped the leather-bound tome from her bag, placing it in Abigail's palm.
Abigail took the book, running her fingers over the worn cover and the ornate, gilt-edged pages. She flipped through it, scanning the elaborate script, her skepticism growing. It was all so over-the-top, so melodramatic—it couldn't possibly be real.
"What are you thinking, Abby?" Tilly asked, her voice eager. "Which spell should we use?"
Abigail flicked through the pages, her eyes landing on a spell titled "Love's Lament." She smirked. "How about this one? 'To make a man long for a woman he cannot have'—it's perfect.
We'll make Luke fall for someone he can't have, and he'll be miserable, wallowing in his unrequited love." Abigail's eyes sparkled with mischief as she read the incantation aloud, her voice quiet in the grand hall.
Tilly's giggle was infectious. "Oh, Abby, you're brilliant! You know, I've seen Luke looking at that new transfer student, what's her name—Anna? She's like, the most unattainable girl on campus. He's got no chance with her."
Abigail nodded, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “Perfect. If he’s already got a little crush going, even if the spell is a total bust, which it almost certainly will be, I bet he’ll be so anxious and freaked out, that it will really get to him! We might not believe in it but I know he probably does.” She giggled cruelly. “It’s like the ultimate prank, right? And if by some off chance it actually works, who knows? Maybe it will give us a laugh watching him squirm for a while.” Tilly grinned from ear to ear, her eyes shining with anticipation.
Abigail couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right, Tilly. It’s perfect. A little harmless fun that will serve him right. Let’s do it.”
The two girls spent the next few hours poring over the spellbook, gathering the necessary ingredients—a lock of hair, a few drops of blood, and a photo of Anna.
Abigail couldn't help but roll her eyes at the absurdity of it all, but she played along, eager to see Luke squirm.
As they worked, the sorority house buzzed with laughter and chatter. The girls were all gathered in the common room, sharing stories of their own pranks and planning their revenge. Abigail and Tilly kept to themselves, their heads bent over the spellbook, their hands carefully measuring out ingredients.
Finally, as the clock struck midnight, they were ready. Abigail looked up from the book, her eyes meeting Tilly's. They shared a grin, their wicked intentions reflected in each other's eyes.
Abigail took a deep breath, her gaze scanning the room one last time. She spotted the photo of Anna on Luke's bookshelf, which Tilly had placed earlier, and the small vial of his blood that she had managed to obtain without him noticing from the blood drive. The lock of his hair was already in her possession, a keepsake from a previous prank.
Abigail cleared her throat and began to read the incantation aloud, her voice steady and clear despite the ridiculousness of the words.
She had to suppress a giggle as she spoke the archaic language, the room thick with the scent of burning herbs and the faint warmth from the candles.
It was in total nonsense, barely pronounceable. She guessed it might be some kind of Latin or Aramaic, something weird and nerdy like that. Honestly, even if the magic somehow was real, Abigail doubted her half assed pronunciation would be enough to make it work.
As Abigail finished the incantation, she felt a sudden chill run down her spine, despite the warm night.
She shrugged it off, attributing it to the late hour and the eerie atmosphere they had created. "And with that, our little spell is complete," she said, closing the ancient book with a flourish.
Tilly clapped her hands together, her eyes wide with excitement. "Now what? Do we wait for him to start pining away?"
Abigail tossed her a smirk. "Patience, Tilly. All good things come to those who wait." She stood up, brushing off her skirt, and began to make her way out of his dorm and back to the sorority house. "Besides, I'm sure he'll be squirming by morning.
I can't wait to see the look on his face," Abigail added, her voice laced with malice as she left Tilly in the dorm room, the book forgotten on Luke’s floor amidst all the other spell components they’d left, making a mess of Luke’s once tidy dorm.
As Abigail made her way up the grand staircase, she couldn’t help but feel a strange tingling sensation run through her. She shrugged it off, attributing it to the late night and the weird atmosphere they had created. After all, it was just a silly little prank, nothing more.
The next morning, Abigail woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. She stretched languidly, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she remembered the previous night's antics. The spell had been ridiculous, of course, but it had been fun to play along, and she was eager to see Luke's reaction.
She threw on a robe and made her way downstairs, her feet sinking into the plush carpet as she descended the grand staircase. The sorority house was quiet, most of the sisters still asleep after the night's festivities. Abigail could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen, and while the aroma was tempting, she had to use the restroom first. As she entered the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and was reminded of her beauty, even without makeup. Her long blonde hair flowed in waves down her back, her skin glowed, and her blue eyes sparkled with the mischief of the previous night still lingering.
She locked the door behind her and went about her business. But once she was done with the toilet, she felt a pull, an irresistible urge to get down on the ground, close to the toilet, to sniff and lick and clean it with her mouth. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the strange compulsion. This isn’t like me, she thought, her brow furrowing. I don’t do things like that.
Abigail stood up, determined to ignore the odd feeling. While it was strange, she figured it was just a side effect of the late night and the peculiar spell they had cast. She washed her hands and splashed her face with water, trying to shake off the lingering sensation.
But the tug was still there, stronger as she tried to resist.
Abigail gasped, her hands pressed against the cold porcelain, as she felt her body bending without her control, her head dropping down. She tried to straighten up, but the urge was too strong, her body too responsive.
"What the hell?" she muttered, her voice muffled by her arms as she tried to hold her head up. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps. She tried to call out for help, but the need to lick the toilet was overwhelming.
She felt her knees hitting the cold tiled floor, her face inches away from the bowl. She clawed at the air, trying to push herself back up, but her body was betraying her.
Abigail’s body, without her command, bent over the toilet, her tongue licking the rim. It was disgusting. Despite the jokes regarding women being clearer than men, Abigail could clearly taste the piss on the toilet. The sheer disgust of it made her gag, but her body continued to lick and clean, as if driven by some unseen force. Panic surged through her veins as she realized she had lost control. This couldn't be happening. Not to her.
She was just glad she’d locked the bathroom door.
She was on her hands and knees, her face pressed against the cold, hard porcelain of the toilet, her tongue lapping at the rim. Abigail tried to speak, to do anything, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper.
But Abigail's body was no longer her own.
She was a puppet, controlled by some unseen force, and try as she might, she couldn't break free. She could feel the grit and grime against her tongue, the taste of bleach and something else, something that made her stomach churn. The more she struggled, the more she gagged and choked, the more the force seemed to push her down, to hold her in place.
Once she had thoroughly cleaned the toilet itself, she leaned back thinking she could finally stop but she was in for a surprise. She reached down between her legs, her cunt still wet with her own piss, and she brought the urine covered digits to her face, slipping between her lips.
She tasted herself on her own fingers, the salty tang of her urine now mingled with the taste of the bleach and grime from the toilet. Her body shuddered, and she could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment and humiliation as she licked her own piss from her fingers.
But almost worse, it wasn’t just the taste of her urine, not the pathetic sounds she heard herself make as she rubbed between her legs, no, the worst part was she was gradually beginning to taste more and more of her arousal. She could feel it building as her body betrayed her, her pussy growing wetter, her clit throbbing, and she hated every second of it.
Abigail's body, driven by some unknown force, began to move, her hips rocking back and forth, her fingers fucking her mouth like a depraved puppet. She could feel the orgasm building, her body tensing, her breathing ragged. She tried to fight it, tried to claw her way back to reality, but it was no use. Her body was on autopilot, and all she could do was watch in horror as she brought herself to the brink.
The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure and shame crashing over her. She tried to scream, to scream for help, for it to stop, but all that came out was a muffled moan against her own fingers.
Just before she reached the point of no return, the force controlling her stopped, and Abigail's body went limp, collapsing on the cold tiles. She lay there, panting, her heart pounding in her chest, her body slick with sweat and tears. What the fuck just happened?
Abigail's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. She had never experienced anything like this before.
Every fiber of her being was screaming in protest, yet she had been powerless to stop it. She felt humiliated, degraded, and most of all, terrified. She had been used like a puppet, forced to perform acts of utter degradation against her will.
Abigail managed to pull herself up, her body still shaking with residual shock and humiliation. She stumbled to the sink, turning on the cold water and splashing her face, trying to wash away the taste and the memory. She looked at herself in the mirror, her reflection telling a story she hardly recognized.
The shock in her blue eyes was unmistakable, a stark contrast to her usual confident glare. Her hair was disheveled, her lips swollen from the forced oral act, and the look on her face was a mix of shame and bewilderment.
She tried to make sense of what had just happened, but the pieces wouldn't fit. She remembered casting the spell with Tilly, the feeling of satisfaction and mischief as they concocted their prank for Luke. She recalled the tingling sensation she had felt afterwards, but beyond that, she struggled to piece together a coherent timeline of events that led to her current predicament.
She had never felt so helpless, so utterly out of control, and the realization was terrifying.
Abigail splashed more water on her face, trying to clear her mind. She needed to find Tilly, to confront her. This had to be her doing, some twisted payback for the countless pranks and jokes she had played on others.
Abigail grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and wiped her face, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She had to keep it together, to figure out what was going on. She wouldn't let this ruin her, not again.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she paused in the hallway, her eyes scanning the opulent surroundings.
The grandeur of the sorority house, once a source of pride and comfort, now felt like a gilded cage. She drew in a shaky breath, her fingers clutching the towel tightly.
She needed to find Tilly and make her talk. But first, she needed to compose herself, to put on a brave face. She couldn't let anyone see her like this—vulnerable, scared. Abigail was the queen bee, the one who dealt out the pain, not the one who suffered it.
She made her way to her room, each step an effort. The house was quiet, the sisters still asleep, and she was grateful for the solitude.
She needed time to think, to process what had just happened. She slipped into her room, the door clicking softly shut behind her. She leaned against it, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her heart still pounding in her chest.
Her room was a reflection of her personality—elegant, tasteful, and perfectly arranged. The large canopy bed was draped in silk sheets, the walls adorned with artwork she had painstakingly selected. But right now, it all felt like a façade, a mask she wore to hide the truth.
Abigail let the towel drop to the floor, her eyes scanning the space, looking for any sign of what had happened.
But everything was in its place, untouched. It was as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She turned to her dresser, her reflection staring back at her, pale and shaken. She needed to get dressed, to put on a strong front. She couldn't let anyone see her like this, couldn't let them see the fear and confusion that was festering inside her.
She was also horrifyingly aware of the heat between her legs, the pulses of pleasure reminding her that despite how close she’d gotten, she had been left on the edge. It was a cruel, sadistic tease that seemed to whisper through her body, taunting her, keeping her on edge. She had never felt so violated, so used.
Abigail quickly dressed herself, opting for a simple outfit of jeans and a fitted t-shirt that hugged her toned frame, a far cry from her usually more put-together appearance. She needed to look presentable, to hide the turmoil inside. She grabbed her phone, her eyes scanning the list of contacts, looking for Tilly’s name. She sent a quick text, her thumbs flying across the screen, the words tumbling out in a rush.
**Abigail:** I need to see you ASAP. Can you meet me in the library? It's important.
She paused, her eyes flicking to the clock on her bedside table. It was still early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, but she needed answers, and she needed them now.
Tilly's response was almost instantaneous, her usual lighthearted tone absent, replaced by a brief, curt acknowledgement.
**Tilly:** Be there in 10.
Abigail took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.
She couldn't let Tilly see her vulnerability, couldn't give her any hint of the turmoil she was experiencing. She had to keep her cool, had to play it off like it was just another prank, another joke. That was the only way she could maintain her control, her power.
She made her way downstairs, her footsteps echoing in the grand foyer. The house was still quiet, the sisters still asleep, which suited her just fine. She didn't want to face them like this, didn't want to see the pity in their eyes.
She could already imagine their whispers behind her back, the speculative glances, the whispered jokes. She was the queen bee, the untouchable one, and she couldn't afford to show any weakness.
The library was tucked away in the far corner of the mansion, a cozy nook filled with towering bookshelves and the soft scent of aged paper. Abigail slipped inside, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She chose a secluded table in the corner, far from prying eyes, and sat down, her back straight and her chin high. She would not let them see her crumble.
She would not let them know the horror she had just endured. She would maintain her composure, her control, and her power. That was the only way she could survive this, the only way she could maintain her reign over the sorority.
The library door creaked open, the sound echoing through the quiet room. Abigail looked up, her gaze locking with Tilly's. Tilly's usually smiling face was a mask of concern, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for something—or someone.
"Hey, Abby," Tilly said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You okay? You sounded...
I don't know, urgent?" Tilly's eyes flicked to the door, her body language tense. She was clearly nervous, her usual glib demeanor replaced with a palpable unease.
Abigail forced a smile, her hands folded neatly on the table in front of her. "I'm fine, Tilly. Just some sorority business that can't wait." She leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed and confident. "Now, about last night—"
Tilly cut her off, her voice barely a whisper. "Abby, did something happen? You look...
different," Tilly murmured, her eyes flicking over Abigail's pale face and the dark circles under her eyes. Abigail fought the urge to touch her face, to smooth away the signs of her ordeal. She had to keep her cool, to maintain her composure.
"Oh, just a late night, you know how it is," Abigail dismissed, waving a hand carelessly. "But enough about that, let's talk about the spell. You said you wanted to do something different, and I have to admit, the spell was...interesting." She gave Tilly a small smile, her eyes never leaving Tilly's face. “We definitely chose a good one. But do you still have it on you? Were there any warnings or anything in the forward indicating… I don’t know, that a spell could backfire or something?” Abigail asked, a slight quiver in her voice that she tried to disguise as curiosity.
Tilly's eyes widened in surprise, her unease growing. "Backfire? What do you mean? It was just a joke, right? Like, no real spells or anything, just a bit of fun to mess with Luke.
Abigail shrugged, her gaze steady on Tilly. "I know, I know. But...
I dunno, I just woke up feeling a bit off, you know? Like I could swear something happened last night, but I can't quite remember.
Maybe it's just the late night catching up to me," Abigail said, her voice light and nonchalant, despite the tremor in her extremities that she was desperately trying to hide. She leaned forward, her eyes boring into Tilly's, willing her to spill the truth.
Tilly shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Yeah, totally, that's gotta be it," she agreed quickly, a little too eagerly. "I mean, we were up all night messing around with that stupid spellbook, right?
It's no wonder you're feeling off," Tilly added, her voice a little too high-pitched, her nervous laughter ringing in the quiet room.
Abigail watched her closely, her sharp eyes missing nothing. Tilly's discomfort was palpable, her usually carefree demeanor replaced by a deep-seated unease. There was something more going on here, something Tilly wasn't telling her.
Abigail leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the table. "You know, Tilly, I always thought you were one of the more creative ones in the sorority.
Bringing new ideas to the table and all that. But this... this feels different. There's something off about it," Abigail said, her voice low and steady, her eyes never leaving Tilly's face.
Tilly's smile faltered, her eyes darting away from Abigail's intense gaze. "Off? I don't know what you mean, Abby. It was just a bit of fun, like we always do. A little tease of that loser."
Abigail's lips curved into a cold smile. "A tease, you say? Is that what you think this is? A game?
A harmless prank? Abigail's smile never wavered, but her eyes grew colder, her voice taking on a dangerous edge. "You know, Tilly, I've always admired your wit. Your ability to make people laugh, to lighten the mood. But there's a fine line between a joke and a cruel prank. And I think you might have crossed it this time."
Tilly's eyes widened, her smile fading completely. "Abigail, I swear, it was just a joke. I didn't think—"
Abigail cut her off, her voice like ice. "We cast a spell, Tilly.
A spell that you assured me was just for show, just for a laugh. But now, I'm feeling... strange. Off. And I can't help but think it's because of what we did. And you're telling me it was just a joke?" Abigail's voice was low, but the anger in her eyes was unmistakable. Tilly shrunk back in her seat, her smile completely gone, replaced by a look of genuine fear.
"Abigail, I swear, I didn't mean to—I didn't think it would actually do anything.
It was just a bunch of nonsense, I thought it would be funny to scare Luke a little. I didn't mean to—to hurt you," Tilly stammered, her eyes welling up with tears. The fear in her voice was palpable, and Abigail could see the genuine distress etched on her face.
Abigail's heart pounded in her chest, her anger warring with a strange sensation of unease. She didn't want to believe that Tilly had meant to cause her harm, but the evidence was compelling.
Abigail couldn't shake the memory of the humiliating ordeal she had endured, the utter loss of control she had experienced. She hadn't felt so vulnerable, so terrified in her entire life.
Abigail took a deep breath, her fingers drumming a staccato rhythm on the table. "You need to tell me everything, Tilly. Everything you know about that book, about that spell. I need to understand what's happening to me, and I need to know who I can trust."
Tilly nodded, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry, Abby. I really am. I didn't think it would do anything, I swear.
The book... it was Luke's. I found it in his research desk when I was snooping around," Tilly confessed, her voice shaking with remorse and fear. "I thought it would be funny to cast a spell on him, to give him a taste of his own medicine. But I didn't know the book was real. I didn't know the spells would actually work."
Abigail's heart hammered in her chest as she listened to Tilly's confession. The sorority house, with its grandeur and elegance, suddenly felt like a prison, the walls closing in on her.
Abigail felt a wave of nausea wash over her as the reality of her situation sank in. She had been under someone else's control, forced to perform acts of degradation against her will. And now, she was trapped with Tilly, who had no idea how to fix what she had broken.
"You mean to tell me that you snuck into Luke's desk and stole his spellbook?" Abigail asked, her voice barely a whisper. She had always known Tilly was petty and vindictive, but this had gone to a whole new level of fucked up.
Abigail felt a chill run down her spine as she realized the gravity of the situation. Her best friend had inadvertently fucked her over, and now she was trapped in a situation she couldn’t control.
"Tilly, you can't just steal someone's property and use it for your own entertainment," Abigail said, her voice deadly calm. "And you certainly can’t cast spells on people without their consent. How could you be so careless and thoughtless?"
Tilly's eyes widened in surprise at Abigail's harsh words. "I-I'm sorry, Abby.
I didn't think it would do anything real. I just wanted to scare him. To make him feel stupid," Tilly sniffled, her eyes filled with tears. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I swear."
Abigail's jaw clenched, her anger boiling just beneath the surface. She wanted to shout, to scream at Tilly for her carelessness. But she knew that wouldn't solve anything. She needed to keep her cool, to focus on finding a solution to this mess. Right now, she didn’t need to make an enemy of her best friend, who did genuinely seem upset by the thought of having messed with her. She couldn’t let Tilly know exactly what she had been feeling this morning but she still needed her help, needed her friend. So, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, to keep her anger and fear from clouding her judgment.
“Alright, Tilly. I believe you didn’t mean any harm, but things have clearly gone wrong. We need to figure out how to make this right.” Abigail said, her voice a little softer but still stern.
Tilly looked up, her eyes filled with relief and gratitude. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I’ll do anything to make this right. I swear.”
Abigail nodded. “Good.
Because we need to find out how to reverse this spell, or at least understand what's happening.” Abigail leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her voice low and urgent. “We need to get our hands on that book again. Do you still have it?”
Tilly shook her head. “If you don’t have it, I think we left it in Luke’s room, with everything else.” Tilly admitted. “Maybe we could steal it back again? Or we could go see some sort of psychic and see what they think? Or maybe you were right, Abby, maybe you’re just stressed and on edge after last night. I mean, you just said you feel off, right? That could totally just be nerves.” Tilly said, attempting to offer solutions. Abigail had to give her credit for trying, but she knew that none of those options were viable. They couldn't break into Luke's room again—that would be risky and pointless. A psychic? That was just ridiculous. And while she appreciated Tilly's attempt to reassure her, Abigail knew what she had felt this morning was beyond just nerves or stress. It had been something else entirely.
Abigail's mind raced, trying to come up with a plan. She needed to figure out what was happening to her, and she needed to do it fast. She couldn't let this control her, couldn't let it dictate her life.
She needed to take charge, to find a solution, and fast. Her mind raced, and she felt a surge of determination. She wouldn't let this drag her down. She wouldn't become a victim.
Abigail stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. "We need to go back to Luke's room," she said, her voice firm and resolute. "We need to get that book and figure out what we're dealing with here."
Tilly's eyes widened in surprise. "But Abby, you can't go back there. What if he catches us?
What if he knows what we did?" Tilly stammered, her eyes wide with panic.
Abigail met her gaze steadily, her voice low and firm. "We have to, Tilly. We need to understand what we're dealing with, and that book is our best bet. Besides, it's not like we can just ask Luke about it, can we?" She raised an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes.
Tilly bit her lip, her eyes darting away from Abigail's intense gaze. She knew Abigail was right, but the thought of sneaking back into Luke's room was terrifying. "What if he sees us?
What if he catches us?" Tilly's voice trembled, her eyes darting nervously around the library.
Abigail's jaw set, her resolve unwavering. "We'll be careful. We'll go at night, when everyone's asleep. And we'll wear black, so we blend in with the shadows. We'll be in and out before he even knows we're there."
Tilly took a deep breath, her shoulders squaring as she summoned her courage. "Alright, Abby. You're the boss. When do we go?"
Abigail checked the time on her phone. "Tonight.
We'll go as soon as the dorms are quiet." Abigail made her decision, her voice firm and resolved. She couldn't afford to waste any more time. The longer she waited, the more vulnerable she felt, the more she feared losing control again.
Tilly nodded, her nervousness replaced with a determined set to her jaw. "I'll meet you in the courtyard at midnight. We'll need to be careful, but we can do this, Abby."
Abigail gave her friend a small smile, grateful for her support. "We'll need to be fast and quiet.”
Luke's room is on the third floor of Matthews Hall.
It's a modest room, nothing like the grandeur of the sorority house. The walls are decorated, art, posters, and a map of some ancient city that Abigail doesn't recognize covering much of the walls. The bed is barely made. The desk is cluttered with books and papers, a laptop open to a page full of what looks like runes or symbols.
Abigail and Tilly stand in the shadowy corridor outside Luke's room, their hearts pounding in their chests. They're dressed in black, their faces pale in the dim light of the hallway.
“Abby, are you sure about this? I mean, Luke is already such a loser, we could totally intimidate him into telling us about the book. Or maybe trick him into believing we’re interested in his research? I don’t know if breaking in is the best option.” Tilly nervously asked. Her eyes darted up and down the corridor, as if expecting Luke to appear at any moment.
Abigail, however, was undeterred. She knew that any attempt to coerce or trick Luke would only raise more suspicions and potentially draw unwanted attention. She needed to understand the spell and how to reverse it, and the only way to do that was to get her hands on the book. She couldn't afford to take any chances.
"We can't risk it, Tilly. If we try to intimidate him or trick him, he might not cooperate, or worse, he could alert someone else to our plans. We need to be smart about this.
In and out, no mistakes," Abigail whispered, her eyes locked on the door to Luke's room. She could hear the faint hum of his laptop from within, the soft glow of the screen casting long shadows across the floor.
Tilly took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the hallway. "Alright, let's do this. But if we get caught, you owe me big time," she murmured, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Abigail barely acknowledged her friend's words, her entire focus on the task at hand. She slipped the lockpick from her pocket, her fingers deftly navigating the mechanism.
She had learned to pick locks in her first year of college, a party trick that had served her well on more than one occasion.
The lock clicked open with a soft snick, and Abigail breathed a silent sigh of relief. She pushed the door open just enough for them to slip inside, their hearts pounding in their chests.
The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the laptop and the soft glow of a nearby nightlight. Abigail's eyes scanned the room, taking in the cluttered desk, the bed, the stacks of books piled haphazardly on the shelves.
She could see the spine of the spell book peeking out from under a pile of notebooks, and she felt a surge of relief. They were in the right place.
She motioned for Tilly to follow her, and they crept silently into the room, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Abigail made her way to the desk, her eyes locked on the spell book. She could feel the weight of Tilly's gaze on her back, and she knew her friend was tense, ready to bolt at the slightest sound.
Abigail reached for the book, her hand brushing against a stack of papers.
She froze, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized that the papers were shaking slightly. She held her breath, listening intently. She could hear the soft rustling of the papers, like the whispers of a distant wind. She looked over her shoulder at Tilly, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. Tilly's eyes were trained on the door, her body tensed and ready to run.
Suddenly, the papers stopped shaking, and the room fell silent once again. Abigail let out a shaky breath, her heart still pounding in her chest. She turned back to the book, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for it.
She could feel Tilly's eyes burning into her back, and she knew her friend was unnerved by the strange occurrence. Abigail tried to push it out of her mind, focusing on the task at hand. She had to get the book and get out of there as quickly as possible.
She reached for the book, her heart pounding in her chest. Suddenly, with a burst of the papers sitting atop the book, it flew across the room, to the far corner behind them. And directly into the hands of Luke, who did not look impressed by his intruders. "What the hell are you two doing in my room?" he demanded, his voice low and angry. Abigail froze, her hand still outstretched towards the now elusive book, her mind racing. Tilly whimpered softly behind her, clearly terrified, unlike how confident she usually was whenever Luke was involved. Abigail couldn't blame her—the guy was intimidating, all muscles and intense eyes under a mop of curls.
Abigail swallowed hard, her mind scrambling for an explanation.
She couldn't let Luke know the truth—that she was here to steal his spell book and undo the disastrous prank she and Tilly had played on him. She had to think fast.
"Luke, we, uh... we were just passing by and saw your light on. Thought we'd say hi," Abigail said, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. She forced a smile, trying to deflect from their suspicious behavior.
Luke's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking between the two of them. "At midnight? In black clothes?" he challenged, his voice laced with disbelief. “I’d find that hard to believe from anyone, let alone the two girls who have seemingly had a vendetta against me for no reason the last four years.” Luke’s voice remained calm but firm, his gaze unblinking. Abigail could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the intensity of his stare boring into her very soul. She swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to come up with a plausible explanation.
“Look, Luke, we know we’ve given you a hard time in the past,” she started, her voice softening slightly. “And maybe we’ve been a little bit too harsh on you. But that’s not why we’re here. Really.”
Tilly stepped forward, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. “We, uh, we wanted to apologize, Luke. For everything.
For the pranks, the jokes, the constant teasing. We were wrong, and we're sorry." Tilly's voice quavered slightly, but the sincerity in her eyes was unmistakable. Abigail watched her friend, her heart swelling with a mix of pride and guilt. She knew Tilly was genuine in her apology, and it made her realize just how far their pranks had gone. They had crossed a line, and it was time to make things right.
Luke's expression softened slightly, his eyes flicking between the two of them. He sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. "I appreciate the apology, really. For some reason, that seemed genuine.” His eyes flicker back up to them, once again intense. “But I still don’t appreciate my stuff being stolen or my room being broken into. Especially two nights in a row.” He added, making it clear he’s connected the dots and knew they were the ones who’d been there the night before, who’d set up the spell. Abigail’s heart sank. “We didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Tilly blurted out. “We just thought it would be a laugh, a joke. We didn’t think it would actually do anything.”
Luke’s eyes narrowed, his gaze hardening as he took a step towards them. “You didn’t think? You stole my book and used it for a ‘joke’ without knowing what it could do? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” His voice was low, barely a whisper, but the anger in it was palpable. But then his eyes widened slightly in interest. “But your spell *didn’t* work. Love’s lament is the sort of thing I’d have felt right away. So either you have randomly decided to grow consciences against all odds or…” A smug, sinister grin appeared on his face as a realization came over him. “Or some spell did work but it’s affecting you instead.” Luke’s eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting between Abigail and Tilly, a mix of amusement and malice playing on his face.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes locked onto Luke’s intense gaze.
Luke’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and malice. “Love’s lament is a powerful spell.
It’s supposed to make the target fall madly in love with the caster’s other target. But it seems like you two have managed to botch it somehow. Instead of making me fall for Anna, of all people, you’ve made yourselves suffer,” Luke said, his voice laced with a cruel satisfaction.
Abigail felt a shiver run down her spine at his words. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to process what he was saying. “How do you know all this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Luke’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and malice. “So I’m right. Something is happening to you. Is it both of you? Or just little miss queen bee? I’ve certainly had spells in the past backfire in minor ways, but you wouldn’t be back here if it was some minor discomfort, would you?” He taunted. "I know because, I actually know what I'm doing." He lifted the spellbook, brandishing it like a weapon. "This isn't just some book of nursery rhymes, girls. It's real magic, and it's not to be trifled with."