In the heart of St. Louis an apartment rests peacefully and safely. On the very top story is room 613, where I live with another college student, Brenda Marters. Brenda is my best friend ever. She's like the sister I've always wanted. She helps me with work, she's always there when I need her, and I can totally trust her. Brenda is just about the most honest person in the world, too. As far as I've heard, she's never even gotten a tardy slip! Yes, Brenda is probably the best friend you could ever want.

Our apartment room is pretty small to us, but much cozier than the college dorms. When you enter, there's a room we use for our living room and a kitchen on the other side. There is one bathroom between the two small bedrooms. The left one is Brenda's and the right one is mine. She gave me quite a scare a few weeks after we had moved in.

I walked in from school and plopped my bag and books on the couch, as was routine. But I wasn't greeted by Brenda's cheerful chattering. Instead, there was silence. I walked around and called to her once, but there was no answer. When I went to the refrigerator, a note was put up that read: "Anna- Went to store for groceries. Be back soon. Don't eat the last piece of apple pie. -Brenda."

I shrugged and headed for my room. But as I reached for the handle, I stared longingly at Brenda's closed door. I remembered her threat several days before. I was never to go into her bedroom, and when I asked why, she just screamed at me and locked her door. But Brenda wasn't home. I was alone. She would never know if I just peeked in.

I crept over and reached out for the handle. As I turned it, I heard the jingle of keys as footsteps clopped closer to the front door. Quickly as ever, I flung myself onto the couch and flipped on the television. At that moment, the door opened and Brenda walked in with several grocery bags.

I ran over and grabbed them from her. I set them on the counter and started unloading. Brenda started to help me and then turned to her room. All the while we had been discussing school that day. She walked over to her door and gripped the handle. But she flung her hand back as if it were a hot coal. Beads of sweat trickled down my cheek. The door knob is probably still warm, I thought. She leaned over and examined the handle with care. Finally, she turned and stared viciously at me.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"You!" she snarled, and she plunged at me with hands ready to strangle, "You went in my room, didn't you!"

I screamed and dodged the attack. "No!"

"Yes, you did! Don't lie to me," she shouted and gave another attempt to grip my throat.

Again I screamed and jumped away, my long brown hair trailing after me. "I didn't! I swear!"

"What did you see?" she interrogated.

“Nothing!" I dodged a few more attacks before I gave in. "I was going to, but I didn't! I started to turn the knob when you came in!”

"I told you never, ever go in my room!" she screamed, "Didn't I tell you that?"

"Yes," I said, terribly frightened, "And it won't happen again, I promise!"

"It better not, or I'll take care of your punishment myself. Trust me," she said, and she stomped into her room and locked the door.

That was the most frightening thing I can remember. It may not seem so bad, but when you've lived with someone who's quiet and shy and hardly speaks above a whisper, this gives you quite a start.

But that had been quite a while ago, and neither of us brought it up. I just stayed clear of her room and she stayed clear of mine. Of course, I would let her in my room, but only so often and with my permission. And other than that horrifying scene, it was mostly pretty peaceful in our apartment.

Today was Tuesday, and I had just pulled up to our apartment when I heard someone scream. I grabbed my things and locked the car door, then sprinted up the steps and ripped open our door. I looked around, and Brenda's schoolbooks were on the table near her bag. I set my stuff down and looked around for her. Surely she hadn't been the one screaming. Surely she was all right.

I walked around the living room for a while, then looked in the kitchen and bathroom. She even peered in her own room to see if she had gone inside without her permission. But the only possible place she could be was in her own bedroom. I knocked on her door lightly, but there was no reply. I knocked again, a bit louder, and still no one replied. I began to reach for the doorknob, but hesitated. She would be infuriated if I went in her room. But what if she had been the one screaming? This was an emergency, so surely she would understand.

I went ahead and turned the knob, pushing the door open with an eerie creek. The room was almost completely dark, except for a small red glow from a lamp across the room. The window was covered with boards, nailed to the wall to prevent light from passing through.

"Brenda?" I called out into the darkness. I heard a shuffle of feet and a clump, as if something had fallen. "Brenda, are you there?" I was terribly nervous, but I stepped in farther anyway. I had to see if she was all right. "I'm sorry for coming in here, Brenda, but I heard a scream, and I wanted to make sure you were alright. Why is it so dark in-" I was interrupted by what felt like a basketball rolling and hitting me in the leg. I felt along the wall for a light switch, and when I found it, it was taped down. I ripped the tape away and flipped the switch. Light flooded the room. "There, now isn't that-"

I let out a terrified gasp as I saw what had rolled into me. There was blood covering my jeans, and on the ground was the bloody, disembodied head of a black-haired girl. Her face was pained and frightened. I wanted to scream, but I was out of breath completely. I stepped back, but tripped and slammed the door shut on accident. I looked around and saw the most horrible sight imaginable.

There were photos covering the walls, and blood had been splattered all over them. Some had been torn by knives, others still had knives in them. Now I knew where the disappearing kitchen knives ended up. On the floor were all sorts of bloody limbs and heads and torsos, a truly gruesome sight. I wanted to throw up, but I was still out of breath from the shock. There was no bed, just a shredded cot on the ground that was completely red. And I knew it wasn't that way when it was bought.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from behind a desk. As they walked closer, I saw it was Brenda, her hands behind her back innocently.

"What's going on here, Brenda?" I asked, my head done spinning.

"What ever do you mean?" Brenda said sweetly, a devious smile on her face.

"Don't play games, Brenda!" I snapped. "What are all these..." I pointed around the room at the rotting limbs scattered across the floor.

"Oh, these?" she said as if she had just noticed them. "You remember Carli, from our first class?"

"Carli?" I echoed, looking at the black-haired head beside me. "I thought she moved."

"Precisely what everyone else thought," she said. "Pretty good cover up, no?"

"You? Did you do this?"

Brenda's hoarse chuckle made me jump back. "You catch on quickly."

"Why?" I felt tears coming to my eyes. My best friend, the one person I trusted most in the world, was a murderer?

"No reason, really. She was just next on the list. And now you are."

"What?" I screamed, scrambling back against the wall.

Brenda pulled her hands from behind her back and revealed a bloody knife. "You've seen way to much, Anna. It's for the best. Trust me."

She raised the knife above her head and began walking towards me. I could see an evil fire burning in her eyes. I was next on the list. This was the end. Everything I had ever known was about to disappear. I was doomed. Trust me.