MURDERED FOR THE TAPES!

The door was unlocked, which meant only two things. Either I, being clumsy, as always, rushed out of the room without locking it properly in the morning. Or maybe, Zendaya was still in the room. 

However, I knew Zendaya usually used to show up only during the afternoon break and leave before dusk. But there wasn't a rule stating she must leave just at the right time. She might have been a bit late. Thoughts kept popping up in my mind as I twisted the nob and pushed the door inside, slowly revealing the features inside the room. We had two small footwear cabinets near the entrance. 

As soon as the door opened, I stepped inside, and my gaze met a nightmare. Zendaya was lying on the floor on her stomach, blood surrounding all over her body. She was wearing a red witch costume which was smeared with blood. Her smooth chestnut hair clumped upon her back, draining in her blood as her head faced opposite to my direction. 

There was a box of cassette tapes near her bleeding head. A few cassettes were also thrown outside in distorted conditions. 

I dropped the shopper in my hand with both my palms covering my mouth as a suppressed gasp escaped my lips. The stale smell of blood made me feel nauseous. I gripped the doorknob to avoid losing balance. 

I wanted to scream, but my body wasn't supporting my instincts. I was feeling as if my body was palsied. My legs were stuck. I would stumble and fall if I try. My heart was pounding in my chest, and tears rolled down my cheeks. 

After a few moments of paralyzed state, I heard myself speak on the phone. 

"911. What can we do for you?" I heard a young lady say. 

"My roommate is dead. In the art institute. Room 404. Please help." I pleaded, sobbing as tears streamed down my face. 

The lady on the other side consoled me while assuring me that the police will reach the spot soon. She kept speaking some other stuff too, but I couldn't pay heed to her talks as my eyes stared at the bloody, gore scene in front of me. 

My legs finally started walking backward as the stink of that red liquid got unbearably harmful to my respiratory system. I started taking deep breaths as soon as I was away from the doorstep. My lungs felt short of oxygen. 

I leaned my back towards the wall and stood there crying, sobbing, whimpering until I heard the cops gather around the room. A lady cop held me by my shoulders and walked me out of there, comforting me. 

I could see her lips move in slow motion, but my ears weren't sensing the sounds. 

Maybe my phone was ringing too. Voices started jumbling up. I felt my body lose weight as darkness flashed in front of my eyes. 

I woke up in a room surrounded by bright lights. My eyes flickered painstakingly as my pupil struggled to adapt to the immensely white surroundings. My heavy eyelashes kept dropping down, making my view intermittent. 

After a small conquest with myself, my senses began functioning, enabling me to organize my wavered thoughts. I figured the walls around me were all whitewashed, and a sound of beeping could be heard from a place somewhere above my head. 

As soon as my mind grasped that I have been lying on a hospital bed, my reflexes responded. I snapped my head out of the soft, spongy, white cushion, trying to get up, pushing my elbows. 

However, unexpectedly, my body being too debilitated to react, disregarded my intentions, throwing me back at the white patient's bed. My body dolorously struck the steel bars under the soft mattresses causing me to whimper. 

"Calm down, I'm here with you!" A girlish voice rang in my ears, grabbing my shoulders to help me place myself properly on the bed. 

When I widened my view to take a look at that kind soul, I realized it was none other than Martha. 

"How's Hannah? Where's Grace? Did you leave Hannah alone?" I started firing questions as soon as I saw her. 

"Hannah is fine. Grace is with her. She is not alone. Hannah's little sister Tiana has arrived too. You need a few hours rest before you could join them." Martha instructed, with a gentle smile on her face. 

"Where am I?" I asked, finally running my eyes throughout the room. 

"You're at my friend's private clinic." She replied, placing herself on a chair beside my bed. "Emi, you went through a lot yesterday. Seeing your room---" 

"Yesterday? What do you mean? How long have I been here? What time is it? And how did I even end up here?" I asked, cutting Martha's talk surprisingly, all in one breath. 

My eyes opened wide as I started finding a window or clock to take a hint of time. My back straightened, and my waist pushed me up so that I could attain a sitting posture. This time my body reacted. I wasn't feeling dizzy anymore. My senses were returning. 

"Relax!" Martha stood up and sat beside my feet, trying to soothe me down. 

"You fainted yesterday evening. After that, the cops admitted you to a local hospital. I kept calling you to tell you that Hannah regained consciousness," she started narrating the incidents. 

I heard her say, holding my breath. 

"You weren't answering, so I tried calling Grace. But she was just as unaware as I was. She went to your dorm room only to find out about all the mess," Martha paused with a concerned face. I kept staring at her anxiously. 

"However, before Grace could make me aware of the situation, I received a call from the police department stating you were in a certain hospital. I rushed to get you, instructing Grace to stay with Hannah." Martha paused again to take a few breaths before continuing,

"I shifted you here to keep you in front of my eyes. You were on strong medications, which kept you sleeping till today. It's 12 o'clock right now." She concluded, checking out the time on her cell phone. 

I got all my answers, but I wasn't satisfied. Something kept tingling in my mind. I didn't have any other questions. However, there were some answers I wanted to hear. 

Noticing my wandering eyes and uneasy expressions, Martha gently pressed my feet under the white mattress and asked,

"What's bothering you, Emily?" 

I raised my eyes to her question. My gaze was filled with terror and doubts. She stared into my eyes, trying to penetrate my thoughts. Suddenly, her expressions changed into worry and concern as she noticed tears welling up my eyes.  

"What's happening, Martha? How are people around me getting killed?" My voice trembled as I clenched the bed sheet under my fists. 

Martha kept looking at me with sympathy. I felt her eyes fill up too, but she swallowed the tears. We watched each other with pity and helplessness. 

"Is there any investigation going on?" I asked after a while of silence. 

I had composed myself better this time. I know I have been behaving like a baby lately, and my behavior was worrying Martha.

So I need to stay calm! 

"The police investigation states all the three murders are of different aspects. There's no correlation. Clearly, three different people committed these murders." Martha said thoughtfully.  

"What about Zendaya?" I asked with a wave of fear traveling through me as the scene of her body kept flashing in my brain. 

"She died due to excessive blood loss from her Carotid Artery of the neck. She suffered a deep cut in her neck region, made mostly by a wire or something like that." Martha informed as she got goosebumps. 

A wall of silence was pulled between us once again. This silence was broken by the screaming cell phone. It was Martha's. She approached the desk where she kept her handbag and snatched the device out of it.

FIB Calling… 

*******
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