Leaving the hospital behind and stepping into the comfort of my home, I found myself reconnecting with familiar faces.
It was during a conversation with Teresa, someone from my past, that things got interesting.
Confusion swirled within me as I tried to make sense of her cryptic words. I inquired, "So, are you dropping hints here, or do I need to play detective?"
Teresa couldn't help but chuckle. "Honestly, I'm spelling it out for you!"
She pouted and went on, "You won't believe the gruesome stuff they say happened there. I mean, a heart ripped out of its place? That's some messed-up horror movie stuff. But here's the real kicker: they discovered human flesh in the kitchen! It's like those folks in the dorm, or so I heard, were into some seriously messed-up cannibalistic stuff. So the killer may be just one of them, or just him…"
What? Human flesh in the dorm? Seriously, human flesh? What the heck?
I said "But how do you even know all of this? Who spilled the beans to you?"
She avoided eye contact and fidgeted with her fingers before responding, "Promise you won't spill the beans, alright? I might just have to unleash my wrath on you if you do."
She glanced at me and went on, "It was my younger uncle, but I doubt you remember him. So, no need to ask. He's a high-ranking police officer and he's leading the charge on this case."
She gave an enthusiastic clap and continued, "Ah, I bet you're wondering why he revealed all, especially since it's a top-secret case that's still ongoing, right?"
"Yeah, if it were the 'old you,' you'd have guessed by now. I've got some pretty unique skills, a knack for pestering folks. I kept bugging him non-stop, asking about you and what went down."
Well, I suppose that makes sense, but it still worries me. Handing out crucial information so casually.
I grinned and said, "I can understand that, Teresa. But tell me, what about the others? I mean, the folks who were at the dorm that night?"
Teresa appeared intrigued by my question before responding, "As for that, I'm in the dark. My uncle mentioned they only grilled the headmaster, so I'm clueless about the rest."
Well, it feels like there is a ton of missing pieces in this story, I said, leaning in a bit. "But hey, Teresa, you shouldn't even have a clue about it. this isn't your business. Stay out of it."
Teresa shot me a look, first surprised and then breaking into laughter. "Whoa! Seriously, I was getting tired of that super proper talk. I almost forgot who you were! But just now, for a sec, you sounded like the old you!"
She glanced at the wall clock, which had completely slipped my notice, and exclaimed, "Oh, damn, I got to split. It's way too late. Hey, Jeff! If I can squeeze it in, I'll swing by my uncle's place and grill him for more info. Catch you later!"
With that, she dashed out of the room, her hurried demeanor unmistakable. She shouted a quick goodbye to my mother.
I couldn't help but think that her insatiable curiosity might just land her in a heap of trouble, possibly taking her down the darkest of paths.
I rose from my seat and approached my mother. "I need to head to my room and crash for a bit," I informed her.
Her eyes filled with sadness as she replied, "Sure, sweetheart. Come along."
She took the lead, and I followed. Our footsteps echoed through the corridor, revealing the age of the house with each creaky, protesting floorboard.
We ascended the stairs, their groans and squeaks attesting to their years of service.
Finally, we reached the top floor, where three doors beckoned. My mother led me to the last room at the end of the hallway.
My mother turned to me, her eyes gentle and caring. "Here you go, Jeff. This is your room; rest well," she said.
I nodded in gratitude. "Thanks, Mom. I will."
She turned away and left. I pushed open the door to my room. The wooden walls gave it a cozy feel, and the bed beckoned with its promise of a good rest, adorned with soft pillows and a warm, dark blanket.
A solitary window allowed natural light to filter in, its brightness tempered by a dark curtain. In one corner, a small desk cluttered with disorganized items caught my eye, alongside it a mini library containing an assortment of books.
But there was something else that drew my attention. Oh, it was a photo album, tucked away on a shelf. I strolled over, picked it up, and flipped it open.
The first picture I laid eyes on featured my mother in her bridal attire. She looked stunning and youthful, radiating happiness with her beaming smile and sparkling eyes.
Oh, and standing beside her was, well, her husband – specifically, my father. Where could he be now? They hadn't mentioned him, and I hadn't seen him during my time at the hospital. Could he be... gone? Ugh, whatever.
I hopped onto the bed and sprawled out, gazing up at the ceiling. I eventually closed my eyes, intentionally shutting out any thoughts.
There was this bothersome feeling, That nagging sensation of emptiness gnawed at me from the inside. I felt like I had nothing to grasp onto from my past, nor anything to anchor me in the present.
Oh, I really didn't want to dwell on these thoughts. Why was I talking to myself? Fatigue was starting to wash over me, despite having slept for a whole month.
Then, an overwhelming sensation enveloped me, the feeling of drifting off to sleep, like I was slipping into that in-between realm. From the outside, it would look like I was sound asleep. But now, without those troubling thoughts, my mind finally found some peace.
Suddenly, I heard voices. They were whispers, gently tickling my ears.
"I never meant to hurt you," one voice murmured, followed by a pause, and then another voice chimed in, "I'll never hurt you."
Another voice joined the conversation, its tone indignant. "How dare you? I can't believe you'd forget everything so easily."
I had the strange sensation that someone was gently stroking my hair. Suddenly, I was wide awake, but to my bewilderment, I couldn't move. It was as if an invisible weight was bearing down on me, pinning me in place.
Panic surged through me, and I tried to scream, but not a sound escaped my lips. After a brief, frantic struggle, I finally jolted awake.
I sat up, my body drenched in sweat, and my limbs trembling. It all felt so surreal.
Was it just a dream, or was I being drawn back into that nightmarish hell? I stumbled over to the window and pulled back the curtains, revealing the morning sunlight streaming in.
It was disorienting; it felt like I had only slept for a few minutes. What was happening to me? Was I still unwell?
I made my way to the bathroom and faced the mirror, unbuttoning my shirt. My gaze fell upon the mark on my chest, a stark reminder of the surgery I'd undergone. It looked surreal, almost painful to look at.
But then, my attention was drawn to another mark, lower down near my belly button. It seemed new, and I couldn't recall it being there before. I tentatively touched it, and a faint, slightly stinging sensation shot through me.
The mark had a bluish tinge, fading towards a greenish-brown hue. I decided not to dwell on it too much, although it did raise some questions.
After rinsing my face and running my fingers through my hair, I headed downstairs.
Just as I reached the bottom step, a distinct knocking echoed from the front door. I hurried to open it and found someone I hadn't expected but had, in a way, anticipated – Noah.
He greeted me, his voice somewhat tense yet oddly annoying, "Good morning. Do you have time for me?"