mask under mask
Crash
The window of the professor's car shattered into a thousand glittering shards, the sound swallowed by the steady roar of rain. I barely flinched, pulling my hood tighter against the downpour. The car alarm screamed into the empty night, but I knew no one was coming. Too far from the main dorms. Too late for anyone with half a brain to be out here. Perfect.
I crouched, letting the rain roll off my hood as I reached through the broken glass. The car smelled faintly of stale coffee and air freshener—pine, because of course it was. Soda cans rattled under my wrist as I pushed aside pens and crumpled receipts. My fingers curled around the keyring dangling from the ignition.
There you are.
Key 59 hung among a chaotic mess of grocery store loyalty tags and a mini flashlight that probably didn't even work. Vacant. No name etched onto the tag yet—confirmation that no one was supposed to be living there. The economics professor had left it carelessly mixed in with his other keys. I snapped the ring apart with the precision of a surgeon, pocketing the dorm key and dropping the rest of his jangling clutter back into the car. No need to leave things too suspicious.
Rain dripped down my face as I stepped back. The alarm wailed on, echoing uselessly into the gloom. If anyone bothered to check the cameras, they'd find nothing but static. Substandard screws on the mounts—cheap, lazy, predictable. Almost like they wanted me to break in.
"You're too kind," I muttered under my breath, slipping the key into my pocket. I turned and melted into the shadows, my silhouette fading in the rain-soaked dark.
To anyone who might see this, it was all just petty vandalism. Nothing more.
But they'd be wrong.
domestic sheep dormitory building 140
The domestic sheep dorm loomed ahead, its façade a gaudy mix of old-world grandeur and sterile modernity. Ivy crawled up the redbrick walls, fighting for dominance against a glossy white trim that made the building look like a dollhouse. A scary dollhouse.
I paused under the awning and pulled out the stolen key, glancing at the lock. It fit. No problem there. But there was a bigger problem: I couldn't walk in looking like this. A dripping, bedraggled wolf-girl wasn't going to pass unnoticed in this Barbie Dream House knockoff.
So, I improvised.
I bit the side of my finger—not enough to bleed, just enough to bring the familiar tingle of shifting hormones into play. My wolf-like instincts surged for a moment, and then I fought them back, swallowing a disgusting pill to counteract the effect. My biology balanced itself like a pendulum, swinging between identities. The warm fuzziness of sheep traits flooded my body as I consciously smothered the sharpness of my wolf features.
My fur, normally a textured mix of gray and cream, lightened to a softer beige with an almost fluffy quality. The intense yellow-orange tint of my eyes faded to a muted blue. My ears tilted, rounding slightly, and my overall build softened just enough to pass. These small changes always fascinated me. The first time I'd discovered them was a nightmare—a party, an accidental overdose, and a mirror that didn't recognize me.
But now, it was a tool. An asset. And a secret.
I ran my fingers through my hair, smoothing it over the locks at the base of my skull where my horns should've been. I'd sawn them off months ago. My old friends called it self-harm. I called it necessity. Sure, I'd replaced them with domestic-style horns that clicked neatly into hidden locks on my head—sleek, detachable, and tailored to whatever version of "me" I needed to be.
I pulled a marker from my jacket and scribbled my name onto the dorm key in quick, efficient strokes. Dolly. Not my real name, but good enough. A blank slate.
The lock clicked, and I stepped inside, shaking off the rain.
im in
The interior wasn't much better than the outside. Chandeliers hung awkwardly low over a common room crammed with overstuffed Victorian furniture. Everything was polished wood and worn cushions, like they couldn't decide whether they were running a dorm or a boutique hotel.
And the girls? They were just as much of an eyesore as the furniture.
Two of them lounged on a floral-patterned couch, sipping tea from dainty porcelain cups. Between them, a plate of powdered cookies rested next to a red candle and a single withered rose in a glass vase. One of them, a Merino sheep, had perfectly manicured wool that looked professionally styled. She wore a bright pink dress that clashed so badly with the room it almost hurt. As she reached for the remote to turn up the volume on her soap opera (Teen Vampires, seriously?), her other hand stayed steady, mid-stroke, as she painted her nails on the hand holding the remote, the same obnoxious pink as her dress.
Beside her, a Suffolk sheep in a patterned dress and a red sweater furiously scribbled notes in a battered notebook. Every now and then, she muttered to herself, occasionally chewing on what looked like a crayon before it vanished into her mouth, laying in her cluttered workspace.
Across the room, a Dorper sheep perched on the windowsill, wrapped in a vibrant purple scarf over a maroon-dyed school uniform. Her phone was tethered to a laptop via a tangled cable, and her fingers darted across the keyboard.
The Merino noticed me first. Her eyes, sharp despite her lazy posture, flicked to the muddy footprints I'd left on the polished floor. Her lips curled in disdain.
"Oh my God," she said, her voice as sharp as her fake nails. "Who let that hobo in?"
Wow. Priorities. Clearly, the footprints were a bigger deal than the hooded stranger dripping water all over the entrance.
"Nice to meet you too," I said, pushing my hood back and letting my damp hair fall over one eye. "I'm Dolly. Room 59."
The Suffolk blinked, adjusting her glasses. "Wait, I thought 59 was empty—"
"It was," I cut in smoothly, flashing a practiced smile. "Guess you're stuck with me now."
The Dorper tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. "You've got… a vibe," she said finally. "Like… edgy, but try-hard edgy."
"Thanks," I said, dripping sarcasm. "I'm damaged in a reasonably attractive way."
The Merino's brow arched as she capped her nail polish. "Ooh, spicy," she drawled. "But seriously, why'd you get here so late? Did your last dorm kick you out or something?"
"Just some travel issues," I replied nonchalantly. "You know, storms, blackouts. The usual apocalyptic stuff."
"Oh, yeah," she said, waving a hand as if brushing off a speck of dust. "That electrical storm shut down half the grid. Everyone's behind."
Wait. Electrical storm? That explained the chaos on campus. The late arrivals, the confused schedules, the delays I hadn't bothered to question.
The Merino smirked at my surprise. "You really do live under a rock, don't you?"
The Suffolk cleared her throat, leaning forward with a hesitant smile. "So, uh… what's your focus? Your classes?"
"Aggregated coursework," I replied after a beat, keeping it vague. The kind of noncommittal schedule that let you dabble in everything without committing to a career path. Perfect for blending in.
The Suffolk nodded approvingly. "Cute. You seem like a total nerd, though." She gave me a once-over, tapping her pen against her notebook. "But if you're going to stay here, you should know we've got a pecking order."
"Pecking order?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"It's my turn for laundry duty," she said flatly, "and I'm feeling nice. You get to pick: laundry or dishwasher duty. Split it with me."
"I'll do both," I said, stepping further into the room.
All three girls stared at me like I'd just announced I was joining a cult.
"Who volunteers for chores at six in the morning on their first day?" the Dorper muttered under her breath.
I smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "What can I say? I'm part of the herd already." They don't see my smile as I turn.