Requested by AWMBH.
* * *
Morgan took a deep breath as she walked up to the counter.
Alright, you got this. You're just getting your mail. No big deal.
"Um, h-hi. I, uh, got an email."
The guy behind the counter barely looked up from his phone. "...And?" He didn't even bother to hide the annoyance in his voice.
"A-And! Uh." Morgan winced.
Focus. You can do this.
"It s-said there's a... package? For me? I'm M-Morgan, by the way."
"Room number?"
"T-Two thirty-four."
"Got it." The guy got up and went to a small cabinet. A few moments later, he returned with a manila envelope. "Here you go."
"Th-Thank you!" Morgan stammered before abruptly bolting out of the room. She walked briskly from the student mailroom towards her dorm, avoiding eye contact with the other students she passed by. When she finally got to her room, she sighed and counted to ten, trying to calm herself down.
Morgan had suffered from social anxiety for basically her whole life. When she was alone in her dorm room, or around people she trusted, she was completely fine, if a little quiet and reserved. But throw her into a large crowd, or even just talking to someone she hadn't met before, and she'd clam up instantly.
Over time, she'd learned to manage it enough to attend school and do most basic tasks that required interacting with people, like getting groceries or going out to a restaurant. A lot of that was down to Morgan pushing herself to socialize. Her parents meant well, but she always felt like they tried to coddle her once they heard the diagnosis. They wanted to keep her at home, have her stay away from playgrounds and parks, even homeschool her. They wanted to accommodate her disorder, but Morgan didn't want to be accommodated. She wanted to be
normal
.
Even though her grades were good enough to get her accepted into a prestigious California arts college, she had to practically beg her parents to let her go, and then beg them again to let her stay in the dorms. They were happy to pay for an apartment she could have all to herself, but Morgan wanted to have "the college experience," and that meant sharing a dorm room with a randomly-selected girl her age. She'd come so far, she told them, she could handle a roommate.
If her roommate wasn't Chloe, she probably could have. But Chloe was drop-dead gorgeous, and Morgan was absolutely smitten with her. It wasn't enough that she had trouble talking to strangers; now she had to deal with a crush as well.
Fortunately, Chloe wasn't in the room right now. She was off at class, which meant Morgan had plenty of time to collect herself. She did the breathing exercises her counselor, Ms. Ryan taught her. Ms. Ryan - or Annie, as she always insisted Morgan call her - was one of the few people on campus who treated Morgan like a person; she didn't pity Morgan like the professors did, and she didn't see her as a freak like most of the students did. And she'd helped Morgan a lot, maybe more than any therapist she'd been to so far.
The only problem was that she was stubbornly old-fashioned. She didn't carry a cell phone, and openly, almost proudly told Morgan she never checks her university-supplied email. She even gave Morgan cassette tapes when she wanted her to try some guided meditation. Morgan was grateful Ms. Ryan had also given her a tape player, too, otherwise she'd be completely out of luck.
When Morgan had sufficiently calmed down, she turned her attention to the manila envelope clutched tightly in her hand. When she got the email that there was a package waiting for her in the mailroom, she was initially confused. She didn't remember ordering anything, and her parents hadn't said they were sending her something. Looking at the envelope more closely, she only grew more confused. There was no return address, and the handwriting was completely unfamiliar to her. A familiar paranoia crept into Morgan's gut, but she tried to ignore it.
That's the anxiety talking. It's not gonna be anything bad.
She opened the envelope and pulled out a small black book. The cover seemed to be made of leather, and it looked well-used. There was no name or any other marking on the outside. Tentatively, Morgan opened the book. It didn't do much to quell her confusion. Inside were dozens of names, each next to a random two-word phrase that didn't make any sense to Morgan.
Quincuncial overmatch? Whelpless phreneticness? Erotogenic coccid? These are... nonsense.
She flipped to another page and her heart skipped a beat.
That's... that's my name...
The sound of the door opening made Morgan yelp. She whipped around and saw Chloe walking into the room, startled at Morgan's reaction.
"Gah!" Chloe exclaimed. "Jesus, Morgan, you scared the shit out of me!"
"S-Sorry... you scared me too..." Morgan mumbled, hiding the book behind her back.
"Oh, gosh. Were you, like, doing one of those tapes? Did I interrupt you?" Morgan knew Chloe's tone of voice all too well. That cloying, condescending way of speaking, like Morgan was a child. She knew it wasn't intentional - Chloe didn't hate her or anything - but it still stung to be treated like that.
"No, I..." Morgan sighed. "It's nothing. You just snuck up on me, is all."
"I'll try to knock next time." Chloe peeked behind Morgan's shoulder. "What you got there?"
"Oh! I-It's, uh... a diary! Ms. Ryan w-wanted me to start... writing. One."
Chloe smiled warmly. "Morgan, honey, I'm gonna be honest with you. You're a sweet girl, but you're a
terrible
liar. What is it?"
Dammit... I'm never good at coming up with stuff on the spot.
Morgan held the black book in front of her. "I have no idea. I just got this in the mail, and I don't know who it's from, but it's got my name in it and it kinda freaks me out."
"Let me take a look at it."
Morgan handed Chloe the book and tried not to stare too noticeably while Chloe flicked through the pages. Morgan always had issues with her appearance, but standing next to Chloe made her feel even more inadequate. Morgan was a little short, a little chubby, and pale, but Chloe was tall, thin, and just the right amount of tan. Her long blonde hair framed her face so much better than Morgan's unflattering bowl cut, and her crop top and short shorts accentuated her figure way more than the baggy t-shirts and jeans Morgan wore.
"Hm... I can't figure it out either," Chloe said. "I don't even know how to pronounce most of these words... hey, wait a minute! My name's in here too!"
Morgan took the book back. Sure enough, Chloe was in there, next to another seemingly-meaningless phrase. "And you have no idea what it could mean?" Morgan asked. "I mean, do you even know what an 'unfakable preguarantor' would be?"
She looked up from the book and saw Chloe's expression change. Her roommate's eyes widened for a brief moment, and then they became lidded and glassy. A dreamy, blissful smile formed on her face. Her body went limp as her head dropped, her chin landing on her chest. "I am hypnotized, I must obey."
Morgan's jaw dropped.
WHAT THE FUCK.
She dropped the book and staggered backwards, her heart pounding in her chest. "Wh-What are you d-doing?" she stammered, all the anxiety she had been trying to keep down rising to the surface. "Stop j-joking around!"
"I'm not joking, Mistress." Chloe stood still, swaying slightly, as if she was drunk. "I am your slave. I live to serve."
"Stop it!" Megan shouted. "S-Snap out of it!"
Chloe's head snapped up. She blinked a few times, a look of confusion replacing the sleepy expression she just had. "...Morgan, what just happened?"
"I-I-I-" Morgan stammered. Her hands shook. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clamping her hands together. "I don't know. I said the phrase next to your name, and you s-started calling me 'Mistress' and said you were a s-slave or something!"
Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Really? You expect me to believe that?"
"Y-You just said I was a bad liar, right? Would I make up something like this?"
"It just sounds completely insane! Why would I start doing that?"
"I don't know!"
Chloe huffed and crossed her arms. After a moment, she smiled. "You said your name was in the book too, right?"
Morgan's eyes widened. "C-Chloe-"
Her roommate picked the book up off the floor. "Let's just see what your phrase does!"
"N-No..." Morgan tried to move, tried to stop her, but her body froze up. She couldn't stop shaking. She felt like a little girl, screaming and crying as her mom whisked her out of the supermarket, asking her what was wrong.
"A-ha!" Chloe exclaimed. "Found you!"
Oh, no...
"'Subspiral casekeeper!'"
