I Didn't Take These | Episode 2

After the horrific discovery, our narrator is thrown into a whirlwind of terrible events.

Hello folks, I’m coming to you with yet another dose of fiction! We are continuing with the story from last week today as it’s a three-part serial. The finale will come out around the same time next week so stay tuned for that! 

This is episode 2 from the serial I didn’t take these. If you haven’t read the first part yet, you can do so here. 

I Didn't Take These | Episode 1

Photo by James Forbes on Unsplash

Who did this?

How did these get into my phone?

The swirl of mindnumbing thoughts plagued my mind, my pulse hammered in my veins.

What am I supposed to do?

Should I call the police?

How did they get there?!

Some little sense of logic kicked in and I went back to the phone gallery, with my stomach doing backflips I forced my thumb to hit the little I in the circle.

These were taken at 1:47 today…

My eyes darted to the clock. 5:10.

Someone had to take my phone and then bring it back here! But… how did I get into my bed?

The whirlwind of my thoughts was unstoppable I couldn't make sense out of anything. Except for one thing. Someone had to enter my house to pull this off. 

I darted out of bed and ripped open the doors of the closet. My palm clasped around a familiar handle of my baseball bat from college and I began to search the house. 

I checked every corner, prepared to smash every shadow. My house wasn't large by any means. But going over it, step by step, looking for a potential killer was daunting. Birds began to sing outside and the first ray of morning sun turned the night sky into a blood red before I was finished. 

The house was empty. All the doors were locked from the inside and the windows bolted shut, just as I left them. 

My mind was tied to a knot, from my bedroom window I could see the edge of the brunette’s house. No police yet.

Should I call them? Maybe an anonymous tip?

Should I delete the photos?

Back pressed to the wall I slid down. With no idea what to do, and no clue of what happened. 

Maybe it's just a coincidence. She is alright, there is nothing wrong with her. It will be okay.

I was squeezing my temples trying to push out the throbbing headache of thousands of little imps drilling at my skull. My eyelids were heavy and my eyes burned, but there was no point in going to sleep again. So I just wandered around the house mindlessly. I made myself a cup of coffee that I didn't drink. 

I tried to make breakfast, but when I reached for the kitchen knives to cut up the onions, they weren't there. I didn't have the strength in me to wash any or look for them so I just munched on a block of cheese. 

My alarm went off. I didn’t bother to turn it off. I just packed my things and went to work. 

On my way to the bus stop, I stopped in front of her house. Her name was Caitlyn, a nice girl. She lived alone as far as I knew and worked at the bank. She had the nicest smile, we often met at the book club down at the local library. She loved the sun and bright colors. Her home was filled with brightness.

Now it was dark, all of the curtains shut, no signs of life…

I swallowed hard and swiftly continued on my way. My heart sped up. I could feel the back of my throat close up and the burn in my eyes intensified tears on the verge of bursting out. 

I blinked once, twice, three times, trying to erase the burning images of the nightmare from my mind. But whatever I did. They persisted. The image of Cait's lifeless body tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.

My body kept shaking throughout the whole bus ride. Everyone was normal. Nobody suspected a thing. Nobody knew. The people here were just minding their own business. Not bothered by the unknown knowledge that one of their neighbors is probably dead!

What if it is just some kind of a sick prank? She is alive and well. Nothing happened and someone is just messing with me!

Thoughts like these carried my sanity for the rest of the day.

I managed to do some work, which thankfully took my mind off the situation. At least for a couple of hours. Before people began stopping by and pilling up questions about Allison. The information that I barely knew her spread like wildfire.

“How well did you know her?”

“Do you know what happened?”

“Were there any cops at your house?”

I was too tired to answer most of them and my answers were vague with apologies of tiredness.

“Oh, it’s probably hard to sleep so close to that.

You can’t imagine.

“Yeah…” was the only word I managed to say while keeping my emotions tightly bottled.

The questioning slowly faded and most people just continued about with their day. The craziness came just before I finally gave up and decided to go home.

“Holy fucking shit!” yelled a coworker from the office next door. “There is another dead chick on your street bro!"

My blood froze. The whole floor got around my colleague’s computer and together they watched a breaking news segment about a murder just a couple of houses down from me.

“Dude, you alright?” someone asked.

I couldn’t stand there. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like the floor was gonna collapse under my feet. I ran away, straight into the bathroom, vile creeping its way up my throat. I caught my reflection in the mirror I was white as death. 

They found her. Oh my god, it's real... she is actually dead. 

Everything spun around me and I almost passed out. I knew it. Deep down I knew it the whole time, but the bliss of ignorance was keeping me sane. I didn’t want to accept it. I just wanted that to be another part of a sick nightmare torturing me.

I ran out. Ignoring all of my coworkers and their questions. I wasn't able to work through the emotions and confusion I felt. My mind got stuck and before I knew it I was walking down our street. 

A flash of red and blue lights brought me back into the real world. About a dozen of cops were spread across the street. Questioning the neighbors and anyone who walked through. Including me.

I tried to look invisible, but they were sharp enough to catch me.

“Hi there sir,” said a broad older policeman. “Do you live here?”

I was almost at my door. “Yes,” my voice low and raspy.

The officer looked me up and down. “What's your name sir?" 

"Charles Hill." 

"Do you know what happened here?”

“Caitlyn Harris died.” My head spun and it was hard to talk with my throat closing up. "I saw it on the news..." 

What if they suspect me? What if the killer was trying to pin it on me? What if they know about the photos?

“Yes. Did you know her, sir?” he made that cool notebook flip you see in the movies. 

“Not much. Just as you know your neighbors I guess."

“You look tired. Where were you last night?”

“At home," the scratching of his pen against the paper began to gnaw on my nerves.

“All night? Anyone with you?”

“Yes. I live alone.”

Should I tell him? What if he already knows, but is just trying to get a confession out of me? 

“Did you hear or see anything unusual?”

I can't tell him... What if they bust me up right away?

“No. Can’t say I have, I went to bed pretty soon.”

He looked me up and down and I tried my best to control the nervous twitching. He didn't believe me. I could feel it. 

"Okay then. You are free to go. We recommend you to lock your doors and don't leave the house after dark. Stay safe." 

“Thank you," I muttered and ran to my door. Having police everywhere made me feel the exact opposite of safety. 

I locked all the doors and crashed on the floor. Numb, my body seemed to give up on living in this insane situation. My eyes closed.

NO! I can’t fall asleep.

That was the only thing I knew. I couldn't go to sleep. I had to wait for him to come again, and be awake and ready. 

With most of my willpower, I got up and poured myself a hot cup of coffee. 

So I stayed awake the whole night. Chugging gallons of coffee and some energy drinks. Waiting for the sick photos to be sent to me or for the killer to come in but nothing happened.

The truth was lingering at the very edge of my consciousness; I just didn’t want to accept it.

There is no way… no fucking way.

I stood awake for three days. On the second day, I started hearing voices, and when I looked in the mirror my reflection laughed at me. My body bathed in cold and heat waves. The caffeine overdose sent tremors down my body every couple of minutes. I felt the rotten breath of the Grim Reaper on my neck… I couldn’t continue like this but…

…the murders stopped.

The police investigation was ongoing but they didn’t have any suspects, not officially yet. There were dozens of patrolling police cars in front of my windows. They went around the block at least three times in an hour. I kept looking at them from my bedroom window. Following them with my eyes trying to stay awake.

On the third night, I sat in my kitchen and my body finally gave up… I had fallen asleep.

Thank you for reading! As always if you have a friend who might like to get regular fiction doping, send them my way!

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EP 3 IS OUT NOW!

I Didn't Take These | Episode 3