3:16 a.m., and all is quiet. Most of the 45 women who sleep in the dormers rest peacefully in their beds, drowning among layers of bright pinks, greens and yellows. The room is pitch black, save for the pale light shimmering through the small window at the end of the room. The occasional snort or wheeze is the only interruption breaking the dead silence. Sophomores Amy Ackerman and Brynn Traughber are fast asleep, exhausted after a long day of school. Although lately they have slept uneasily, tonight is a rare respite. Their twin beds are pushed together in the corner of the old dormer, far away from the light.

The silence is broken as the mattress begins violently shaking, as if someone is ripping it from the frame. Both girls snap awake and turn around to look at each other, reassuring themselves this isn’t a dream. It can’t be.

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