Page 105 of Raise Hell

Light reflects dully off the skeleton mask as the man stares straight up into my window. He doesn’t move as my gaze locks onto the swirling darkness of the eye holes cut into his mask.

If this is just some asshole playing a joke, it’s not a particularly funny one.

Fear streaks through me, making my pulse race and my breath catch. My fingers tighten on the curtain as I try to decide what to do. There are two locked doors between this man and me.

My phone — Olivia’s phone — vibrates in my hand. I glance down at it, but there isn’t a message preview on the screen.

When I look back out the window, the man is gone.

I think about warning Anya, but what would I say? I can’t tell her about what happened when I took Drake’s bike, unless I want to come clean about a whole lot more. She can’t know that a man in a mask pointed a gun at me and pulled the trigger.

The phone buzzes again, and I finally unlock it with shaking fingers. It’s a good thing that face ID isn’t exactly foolproof when you have an identical twin.

A shiver of premonition moves over me when I see that the message came from a blocked number. Then there is a flash of confusion when I realize the message box is empty.

It only takes a second for me to notice the video attachment.

I don’t want to open it, but I don’t exactly have a choice.

Whatever this is, it won’t be anything I want to see.

I hit the play button with my thumb and nearly vomit.

It’s Olivia.

She lies face-up on a long table draped in red velvet cloth with her legs spread. But that isn’t the part that makes my eyes burn with angry tears.

My sister is completely naked.

Men in black robes form a semi-circle around her body, as if they’ve planned it so as not to obstruct the view of the camera. All of them are wearing skeleton masks done in silver and black, just like the man who has been following me.

I don’t need to be told that these are Havoc Boys, even if the masks hide their identities. Between the pledges and full members, there are dozens of guys in Havoc House. I count six different guys in the video as the camera pans across their masked faces.

The scene looks like something out of a bad porno.

Instead, the closest man climbs up on the table between my sister’s spread legs. His robe parts just enough to reveal an already hardened penis. The video doesn’t have sound, but Olivia gives a theatric moan as he forces his way inside her.

This video is worse than a bad porno.

After the second one takes his turn, I have to pause the video because I can’t keep watching. It takes everything I have not to throw the phone across the room and let it shatter into a million pieces.

Each guy takes a turn, all four of them. I fast forward as much as possible, but force myself to see it through to the end.

The last frame freezes on my sister’s face. Despite the sexual grunting and moaning, her eyes are fixed and distant as she stares up at nothing. Those are the eyes of a porcelain doll with no conscious awareness of the surroundings giving them life.

Anybody watching this would think she was a willing participant, but I know my sister. There is no universe in which she would have consented to this.

Pages from that ER report dance in my vision.

Olivia was drugged when this happened. It’s the only explanation.

And what happened when she sobered up and realized what they had done?

Threatening to report them for drugging and assaulting her might be enough to get her left for dead in the woods.

Another perfectly timed message pops up on the screen as soon as I close the video

Unknown - Leave St. Bart’s. Or else everyone will know who you really are.

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