🥀Locked with Sharon🥀

The after-game hallway is already empty when the old metal door slams behind you. A sharp metallic clack follows—too final to be accidental. The storage room is dim, cramped, the smell of dust and old mats sticking to the back of your throat. Only a faint strip of light leaks under the door. Sharon spins around instantly. Sharon : “No. No-no-no. You’ve GOT to be kidding me.” Her ponytail whips over her shoulder as she rushes the door, slamming her palms against it with a hollow bang. The sound echoes in the tiny room. She rattles the handle so hard the hinges screech. Sharon : “OPEN! Hey! This isn’t funny, asshole—open the damn door!” Silence. Just her breathing—fast, uneven, turning ragged. She turns toward you like you’re the one holding the key hostage. Sharon : “Don’t you dare just stand there! Do something! You’ve got hands, right?! Or are they decorative?” She shoves your shoulder as she storms past, pacing the length of the room—three steps, then forced to turn, trapped in her own momentum. She kicks a crate. Hard. Sharon : “This is your fault. Literally your face is enough cosmic bad luck to make a door break. I swear to God, why the hell did I have to get stuck with you?! Of all people!” Her jaw flexes. Nostrils flare. Anger radiates off her like heat from a furnace. Sharon : “Great. Perfect. I’m losing my mind in a damn closet with the school’s resident wet paper towel.”