About 4 years ago, our parents were divorced. My brother Jones and I were forced to stay with our uncle. Jones was dyslexic, which meant he couldn’t read or write, whereas I couldn’t make the right choices or make the right decisions, and with my parents not being around, I was never taught how to make the right decisions to make my future steady. Rather, it would stumble and end up in the wrong hole. I even tried committing suicide, but I remembered my brother’s face and stopped myself from doing so. My uncle worked in the government, so he had to stay away from us 24/7 as he had unexpected shifts during the day and night. At our 1BHK apartment, there weren’t any facilities as such; The water would be gone without a warning, lights would be gone by night, and even the scarcity of food would occur at unusual times. Me and Jones mostly survived on milk and bread. We would have cereal and milk if lucky enough, but that’s once in a blue moon. After having a drain of resources, we at least had enough money to survive, but half the money was for rent, and a quarter of it was for us. Jones had only 5 pairs of shirts and 5 pairs of torn pants, from which I shared.
I went to the market to buy bread and milk. Both the items cost 14 dollars and I had only bought 10 dollars, but the cashier smiled, took the amount, and whispered into my ears, “Don’t worry, the rest of the 4 dollars is on the house.” I wanted to hug the cashier but restricted myself. I swung the bag across my legs happily and wanted to say this to my brother. Hearing this he would be delighted. As I crossed the road, I saw a huge group of people standing in front of a big residence I had never seen. It was bigger than my 4-flat building. I decided to go into the huge crowd and ask what this drama was about.
When I arrived at the scene, half the crowd had left. Only a few college students were there at the scene. I decided to ask them about what all this chaos meant. When I asked one girl, she started crying and stammering her half-spoken words, one boy immediately went to calm her down, and eventually, the whole group did. I pondered… whether no one had any answers or no one dared to speak to them. I walked away to the security knowing this whole gang wouldn’t answer any of my questions. I asked the security why there was a whole crowd, he rested his hand on my shoulder and spoke in his broken old voice, “This residence you see is haunted. Two people were brutally killed and their spirit roamed around here, and to prove it we had people living over here, but when they heard footsteps banging, baby crawling, some woman singing songs, and the man playing instruments, the people left. Now, no one wants to look at this old building anymore.” The old man sat down as he spoke the last sentence. The residence was quite daunting. I wanted to seek inside and find out whatever. I giggled and made my way home.
When I reached home, Jones was sleeping. Lately, my uncle has kept him on some drugs which I’m not so sure of. His health has been worn out, and there’s been a lot of health check-ups for him. Soon, if his health degrades, we might need to look for a wheelchair, but his presence is what I would care about at this moment. I kept the plastic bag down at the side table and went out again for a walk, but my main intention was to sneak into the residence.
I walked through the residence park for a while. The park was wide open, with accelerator swings, tube-like slides, vertical climbing walls, spring riders, and even a tornado spinner. The park didn’t look as disturbing as the residence, it looked friendly and warm. I left the park after a while and headed my way towards the residence. It was a dark stormy night, and the weather was unclear. I had a black torn hoodie which I had worn, and that gave me enough warmth.
I reached the residence within two minutes. It wasn’t as far, and I also saw my local supermarket. The security guard had fallen asleep, and I slowly crept towards his chair to look at the time. He was loudly snoring, and my ears went numb after I heard his loud snorting. However, the time was 9.38 pm and by that time everyone had fallen asleep, or so it seemed to be. I put my hands on my waist and began my journey into ‘The Residence’.
Excitedly, I made my first step in and saw four staircases ahead. Sadly, there weren’t any elevators and there were four floors. I decided to check out each floor.
When I reached the first floor, there wasn’t anything interesting. The flats and corridors were covered with dirt and mud, and whatnot. Felt like I visited a graveyard, perhaps a destroyed one. I don’t think anyone lived here and made a decision not to waste my time here.
I moved onto the second floor, and I was greeted with footprints on the wall. I slowly crept inside making sure no one would see me or hear me. I gulped hard, and nothing was left to swallow. I touched the footprints and smelled them. Surprisingly, it wasn’t blood but rather red paint. Is this the reason why people ran away from this residence? I wanted to click a picture of this, but I didn’t have any device on me. I could go down and slowly grab it from the security, but living is better than getting caught.
The third floor was the twist. It was rather a roller-coaster ride of emotions. From worried to scared, and from almost crying to feeling miserable for a second. The third floor was an abandoned plot. Spider webs, dead bodies of small insects like bugs, cockroaches, lizards, etc., and the most horrifying one; bloodstains all over the floors and walls. It was terrifying to see blood all over the place. It was a narrow long corridor, and it was filled with disgusting obnoxious stains. At the very end of the corridor, a broken portrait of Mona Lisa was hung and her eyes were shot by bullets. This was a serious case. Someone would have been murdered? Or someone might have been suicidal? Who knows what happened here? But something weird was tickling inside me; if the security guard told me that people who lived here heard footsteps wouldn’t they see all this and run away already and not wait for time to arrive? If these blood stains are there, wouldn’t the tenants complain and scream? If the gun was shot on the third floor, wouldn’t anybody see it or at least feel the sensation of it? And if anybody is being murdered here, wouldn’t the smell of the corpse go around the entire building? There are so many questions, but none of them has a solution. The only suspect I can see is the security guard. He technically lied about half the things. Good thing, I came here.
The fourth floor was a continuation of the third. There weren’t any insect dead bodies, but blood all over the floors and bit into the wall. In the left corner, I saw an imprint of someone’s body.
That’s it.
Someone was murdered and this is the biggest evidence.
I rushed down the stairs to wake up the security guard and call him here. When I got down, he was still sleeping. I woke him up so hard that he was frightened. It was already 11, and he was dumbfounded.
“Why are you here at such an odd time?” he asked me in an aggressive tone.
“You have to come with me real quick.” I grabbed his hand and took him with me to the fourth floor. I saw his aggression turn into fear. What if he murdered someone?
“You see this imprint? In the left corner? So, this indicates someone has been murdered. And this blood isn’t dried, it’s wet and dark. When someone’s blood is dried, it doesn’t drip down like this. It stops where it’s supposed to be. Now, you have to speak the truth and nothing but the truth. Or else, I’ll lock you inside here forever.”
“I-it isn’t m-me. It w-was my b-boss w-who commanded t-this to me,” he spoke stuttering.
“Who is your boss? Tell me, WHO IS YOUR BOSS?” I had lost my cool by that time.
“Your brother,” he responded in a swift voice.
I let go of his hand and terror filled my face. I kept looking at him, praying that he would say someone else.
“N-no my b-brother could n-never possibly say t-this. Y-you are lying. He’s on the bed, bloody rat, how could he possibly murder someone or even give a command to you?”
“He’s not on the bed nor is he dyslexic.”
“How would you know if he is dyslexic or not? I’ve lived with him all my life, and he’s not just dyslexic but he has a lot of health issues that degrade his mind.”
“It was all an act. He isn’t dyslexic nor does he has any health issues. I don’t know whether or for what reason he wanted me to kill them”
“W-who are they?”
“Your parents.” I looked at him sheepishly.
“They are bloody divorced and they have gone out of the town. They would never come here as their standards are higher than ours.”
“Ask your brother the entire story.”
I left the guard there and ran home.
Tears and the betrayal had filled my face. I couldn’t imagine that all his four years, this was all an act. He should have won the Oscars, for this unpleasant acting. Those sleepless nights that I bore were all a waste.
“JONES WHERE ARE YOU?” I banged the door and entered the house, screaming his name everywhere. He wasn’t answering me. I looked everywhere and he wasn’t there anywhere. He wasn’t in the kitchen or the bathroom. I decided to go into his bedroom and see.
My footsteps slowed down, I was heavily breathing and sweat was dripping down my face. There was absolute silence around the house, and not even a cricket was chirping.
All I knew, I was present in a murderer’s house.
I gulped for the last time and grabbed a vase. I went inside the bedroom and the view horrified me.
Jones was standing against the wall with a bloodied knife in his hand and with a malicious grin.
Our uncle’s body was on the floor and Jones stabbed him to death.
The atmosphere had gotten intense. The only way to survive was to run, but Jones' steps were getting closer and closer.
He was standing in front of my terrorized face. The knife slowly rose and I was paralyzed. I couldn’t smile, talk, or laugh.
Without any hustle, I threw the vase at him, which made his knife go out of place. I grabbed him by the collar and threatened him to answer every question of mine.
I grabbed a chair and made him sit down. The drugs our uncle gave him slowly took all over him, making him unconscious, yet he could speak.
“Why would you do this, Jones?” I began with a calm tone.
It looked like he was analyzing every word of mine, to think of an answer.
“I was mistreated.” His first sentence.
“How were you mistreated?”
“Everyone hated how I was. Mom, dad, uncle, and even you. Not just hate, but even beatings with a belt, vase, pouches, and books. Dad was a bloody alcoholic, and Mom lived the life of a slave. One-sided service. Her anger would always be thrown upon me and never you because you were their first child. When we were young, you took advantage of my life. Always made me a disappointment, fake rumours that always went to Dad and then he used to lock me up in a room and beat the shit out of me. You made my life a serious joke.”
“Then why did you act dyslexic and migrated health issues?”
“So that mom, dad and you would never do anything towards me. I thought acting like this, I would never get any serious beatings or verbal abuse. Unfortunately, everything had been the opposite. Dad would always blame my living and would torture Mom, by saying why did she give birth to such a weak and unhealthy kid. I still to this day remember Dad saying to my mom ‘You should have left this child and buried him somewhere. This kid is of no use.’
Tears swelled in my eyes as I sat on the bed. I never thought my brother had gone through such things, even when I was present. Although I was physically present, mentally wasn’t.
“From that day onwards, I decided I would end their lives. Complaining to the police wasn't even on the list because I was never allowed to step out of the house. Mom was tired of living like a slave of Dad agreeing to each word he spoke, so she filed a divorce and left us both.”
“Then how did you find them?” I spoke, wiping my tears and sitting straight.
“One night, when uncle and you slept after the divorce had taken place, I decided to bribe them. I took out the second phone which has always been in our house and brought a sim. It cost me a lot, but I knew I had to take revenge so I didn’t care. I made a new number and messaged them alternately. I bribed them with a residence and a bag filled with gold coins and cash. For the past 4 years, I have been doing this. Last night, I texted them saying to come to the residence at 3:00 am. After hitting send, I went out and gave some cash and my gold ring to the security guard and told him to faint these two and give me a whistle. After his whistle was blown, he left, giving me a chance to stab them completely and bury their bodies in an apartment on the 1st floor.”
“But there wasn’t any blood or stains on the 1st floor.”
“It was because I cleaned it. At least the stains. After killing them, I threw the knife somewhere and came back home. I threw the SIM card away and also the phone. I kept no shreds of evidence.”
I looked over my uncle’s body. It looked like all the blood drained from his body and Jones just sat there smirking and feeling pride about what he did.
“Look Jones, whatever happened to you in the past, I’m sorry about it, but you shouldn’t have killed Mom and Dad, even Uncle.”
“But I haven’t done killing.”
“Who’s y-your next v-victim?” I stammer.
“You.”
He got out of the chair swiftly and grabbed the knife, forcing the knife to stab me. I grabbed his hand and banged him towards the wall. Trying to grab the knife, he cut my fingers. I screamed and yelled, that my veins were visible.
He took the golden opportunity in his hand and stabbed me in the stomach, then my chest. I lay on the floor with all the blood draining from my organs. He threw the knife on the floor and made his way to the outside of the door.
After all, his intention was ‘just to act’.
