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The Red Heels in My Dorm Room / Chapter 1: Footsteps at 2 AM
The Red Heels in My Dorm Room

The Red Heels in My Dorm Room

Author: Gregg Brooks


Chapter 1: Footsteps at 2 AM

Dorm life at college was chaos. Rules? No one followed them. My roommate Derek, the guy on the bottom bunk, actually brought his girlfriend over like it was a cheap motel.

Honestly, the whole place felt like a bad reality show. Everyone broke the rules and didn’t care. Derek made it worse—acting like our room was his own private love nest.

In the middle of the night:

The bed creaked nonstop. I lay there, half-awake, my mind drifting somewhere between sleep and annoyance.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I had noise-cancelling headphones. The squeaking springs found a rhythm, echoing off the cinder block walls, every sound bouncing around like it was mocking me.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed against my pillow, its blue glow lighting up my tired face. The faint, salty scent of instant ramen from earlier still lingered in the room, grounding me in the mess of a typical American dorm. A guy from across the hall had texted me: [Tell the girls in your room to quiet down. They’re crying and laughing, making a racket.]

I blinked at the message, confused. Girls? Multiple girls?

I stuck my head out and looked at the bottom bunk.

Hadn’t my roommate only brought back one girl?

1

The curtain on the bottom bunk was pulled tight.

The bed rocked in a steady rhythm.

It was like something out of a bad comedy, except now the whole situation was starting to feel unsettling.

Another message popped up on my phone:

[Enough already.]

[It’s been several days.]

[Every night there are four or five girls, crying and laughing, it never stops.]

I replied, annoyed: What do you mean four or five? There’s only one, that’s Derek’s girlfriend. She’s not crying or laughing, either.

I rolled over, my thumbs flying as I texted back. Was this some kind of prank? Or was I missing a party I hadn’t been invited to? I was too tired for games.

The guy across the hall shot back:

[Still pretending, huh?]

[Listen for yourself, what’s all that noise?]

He even sent a recording.

In the audio, there were several women laughing, mixed with weird sobbing, all jumbled together. Mixed in with the laughter and crying, I could hear the distant drone of someone’s late-night TV and the hum of the vending machine down the hall. There was the sound of heels clicking on the floor—at least four or five people, maybe more, and someone kept knocking on the door, trying to get in.

I was stunned.

What he recorded was definitely the sound from our room, but with all that noise, how had I not heard a thing?

When did our dorm have so many girls?

Could it be someone brought them back secretly when I wasn’t there?

I asked: [When did you record this?]

Classmate: [Just a couple days ago. Every night after two in the morning, you guys start up. Enough already, I’ve reminded you several times. Stop pretending you don’t know.]

Reminded me several times?

I quickly replied: [I don’t remember any of that.]

Classmate: [Not cool, man. Last night after two, I came over to find you guys. You opened the door. You said okay, you’d pay attention next time. Did you forget?]

I was even more confused.

Last night I pulled an all-nighter at the campus computer lab.

I asked: [Are you sure you got the right people? All four of us were at the lab last night. Who opened the door for you?]

The guy across the hall sent a facepalm emoji: [Forget it. Those girls in your room are laughing again. It’s so loud. Whatever, just let them drive me crazy.]

Started again.

I sat up.

Looked around the room. The dorm lights were off. It was dead quiet. There was no sound of laughter at all.

I was about to ask the guy across the hall what exactly he was hearing.

The bottom bunk suddenly stuck his head out: “Hey, did you hear anything in the hallway?”

His name is Derek. He’s the one who brought his girlfriend over a few days ago.

He looked spooked, his voice low, eyes darting toward the door. The glow from his phone lit up his anxious face.

I frowned. “What did you hear?”

Derek got anxious: “There really is a sound! I sleep by the door, I can hear it clear as day. Footsteps out in the hallway, it’s been going on for days.”

I said, “It’s probably just someone heading to the bathroom. Isn’t it normal for people to be in the hallway?”

At that moment:

Another roommate sat up, nervously said, “No, it’s not just someone going to the bathroom.”

His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. You could tell his nerves were shot. It wasn’t like him to get rattled.

Here it comes again.

Our floor’s RA also sat up. The three of them all looked at me with dark faces. None of them were asleep. All of them had heard the sound in the hallway.

Plus Derek’s girlfriend, Aubrey. She pulled open the curtain and stared at me intently, making my skin crawl.

Looking at you guys, is it really that serious? Isn’t it just someone—

But before I finished, I heard a burst of footsteps from downstairs.

Click—

Click—

Click—

It was the sound of women’s hard-soled shoes on the linoleum, coming from far away, getting closer, as if climbing the stairs, from the first floor to the second... I immediately held my breath.

I checked the time.

It was exactly two in the morning.

It’s always at this time.

There are footsteps in the hallway.

Like searching for something, stopping at the door of every room.

Derek whispered.

I quickly texted the guy across the hall: [Did you hear the footsteps?]

Across the hall: [They’re all coming up.]

As soon as he finished:

The footsteps reached the third floor.

That’s our floor.

I held my breath, listening.

Suddenly, the footsteps disappeared.

I turned to look at the others: “I told you, it’s just someone going to the bathroom...”

As soon as I finished, I noticed their faces looked terrible.

Click click click click click—

A sudden burst of hurried footsteps came out of nowhere, as if someone was running wildly in the hallway. And the worst part was—

The footsteps echoed off the scuffed linoleum, the kind that’s seen decades of spilled coffee and late-night pizza runs. The footsteps stopped right outside our door.

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