Female Predator On Campus

I was walking around campus all day wearing my shortest skirt and tightest T-shirt. And I could feel the predator staring at me. Wherever he or she might be. There were rumors of a predator roaming all over the campus. Male and female students had been attacked. And nobody thought anyone could do anything about it. Well, I decided to go on the hunt. Predators can and do get caught. No matter who they are and how tough they think they are. Men and women who prey on the innocent have a new enemy. My name is Stephanie Blade and this is my story.

I attend Brighton College in Boston, Massachusetts. It's a small private school with about ten thousand students. The school was founded in the year 1908 by a wealthy philanthropic organization. Since then, it's grown into one of the finest schools in the country. I came to the school in 2007 because they were the only place fielding women's varsity rugby at the Division Two Level in Massachusetts. Brighton College sponsors men's varsity baseball, basketball, football, cross country, soccer, swimming, rugby, gymnastics, rowing, fencing, tennis, wrestling, lacrosse, golf, ice hockey, cycling and rifle along with women's varsity softball, basketball, cross country, soccer, swimming, rugby, tennis, gymnastics, fencing, wrestling, lacrosse, rowing, ice hockey, field hockey, equestrian and rifle. I liked the sound of that. Attending an athletic powerhouse was a dream of mine.

Life on campus was good. I liked the school. There was an equal number of male and female students on campus, and the school was competitive, both athletically and academically. It sounded like my kind of place. Unfortunately, that's when the predator came. An unscrupulous individual who attacked male and female students. Unseen, unhurt and unstoppable. Nobody knew who the predator was. No one knew whether the individual was male or female, black or white. I could write a book about the amount of stuff nobody knew about this predator. Seriously. The campus police were completely ineffective, as usual.

Well, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Many people make the mistake of underestimating me. I stand six feet tall, busty and heavyset, with wide hips and a big, round ass. My skin is bone-white and my hair is blonde-white. My eyes are an icy green. I would be the one to catch the predator. And so I created a group at a social networking site that was quite popular with college students. The aim of the group was to dare the predator to come out, wherever he or she might be.

My plan worked. Unfortunately, it worked too well. On a Friday night, Brighton College women's basketball star Eileen Pimental was found unconscious, the victim of apparent aggravated assault and battery. She was taken to the hospital, where she nearly died a few hours later. The next day, soccer player Brian Keller was attacked. He too was viciously beaten. Fortunately, he too survived the ordeal. Unfortunately, the predator was still at large. The entire campus was panicking. Men and women wondered aloud who the predator could be. The victims couldn't tell what gender or race their attacker was. According to them, someone snuck up behind them and knocked them out. The rest, we knew already.

I redoubled my efforts to catch the campus predator. Unfortunately, the campus police got in the way with their instituting a curfew and constantly patrolling the campus. The entire campus was panicking. Some of the local women's groups decried the college's lack of success in protecting the female students from the predator. They started going on and on about patriarchy and all that shit. None of them were louder than Anna Brock, the tall, heavyset young black woman whom I often saw in my criminology class. She gave me dirty looks whenever she saw me talking to a black guy. Apparently, she considered all black men on campus to be the sole property of the black female students. Haters like her are common. I didn't pay them any attention.

My mind was focused on greater things. I wanted to catch the predator, whoever he or she might be. When trouble arises, people should stick together and find a solution. Name-calling and finger-pointing won't help anyone. Why didn't these people realize that? I mean, I'm only nineteen years old and I've already figured that one out. fortunately, someone else seemed to think like I do. I found a friend and ally in Arnold Campton, the tall and good-looking black stud who was the captain of the men's varsity football team.

Arnold wanted to catch the predator as badly as I did. His friend Brian Keller was one of the victims. Also, he told me that whenever assaults took place on a college campus in North America, the local feminists were quick to point the finger at male student-athletes. The so-called princes of power. Arnold didn't want to see his friends and teammates demonized. So he wanted to catch the predator and hand him or her over to the police before more madness filled the once-peaceful campus of Brighton College. He was a young man who had a firm head on his shoulders. I liked him already. With my new ally, I began patrolling the college campus. I would catch the predator before he or she struck again. That was my vow.

When night fell, I began strolling the campus. I was the only one. Arnold watched me from afar. He was my backup plan in case things got hairy. I walked to the field house, where most of the assaults had taken place. I sat on a bench, chatting idly on my cell phone like the ditzy blonde I was pretending to be. And surely enough, the predator came to me. I felt someone grab me from behind. Whoever it was, they were strong. I struggled but the predator wouldn't let go. So I grabbed my pen and stabbed the predator's thigh. The predator grunted in pain and temporarily let go of my arms. I whirled around and clocked the predator on the face. Take that, you evil fiend!

I stood over the predator. A large person, quite tall, and clad from head to toe in a long black cloak. The type worn by monks and fraternity initiates. I pulled the cloak from the predator's face. Guess who was under the hood? I stared into the familiar face of...Anna Brock! What the fuck? The predator who terrorized the entire Brighton College campus was a woman? Wow! I dialed Arnold, and he swiftly joined me. The two of us stared at Anna Brock's unconscious body, stunned. Arnold smacked her face to wake her up. I smiled. Good one! Ann Brock woke up with a start. She stared at us, eyes filled with hate.

I decided to interrogate her. Why did she do it? Ann Brock sneered. She said she wasn't telling us anything. This time, I smacked the black bitch in the face. She was going to fess up, or else. Ann looked at Arnold, and called him a traitor. He stared at her, stunned. Ann went on. She considered all black men who dated white women to be traitors to the race. Arnold smiled. He told her that he went out with whatever women he found funny, cool and likeable. He avoided dating most of the black chicks on campus because most of them were angry, bitter and eternally hateful toward all black males in general. Like many black college men, he would rather take his chances and seek happiness outside his race.

I stared at Ann Brock, shocked. She went on a virtual rampage, assaulting male and female students on campus at night just for that? Ann stared at me balefully and said yes, and she'd do it again. She hated black men who dated outside the race. And she hated the white women they dated. So she devised a clever scheme. Disguised as a man, she would assault white male and female students on campus. This would arise racial tensions and soon, the panic-stricken campus would begin a witch-hunt. Black males would be prime targets during those times. That was Ann Brock's devious plan. I stared at her, feeling anger, and a deep sadness. This chick had really gone off the deep end. She was a racist and a sexist. How could this kind of prejudice still exist in today's world?

Arnold and I called the campus police, and they picked Ann Brock up. She was laughing the entire time. Like a true villain, she was proud of what she'd done. Arnold and I stood on the hill near the field house as students and campus police officers talked about the night's events. I looked at Arnold and he looked at me. Smiling, I kissed him goodnight, then walked to meet the media. I had a long, painful story to share with them. The tale of a racist woman who terrorized an entire campus with her predations. Ann Brock is the deadliest kind of predator out there. A female predator. And it took a woman to bring her down. Well, a woman and a man. People like her shouldn't get away with what they do. Unfortunately, they often did. Who would ever suspect someone like her of being the campus predator? Not many. She's got a twisted mind, one which most people can't match wits with. Lucky for us, I'm twisted too.