15 Signs Of Murder (Fifteen thrillers) by Samways Luis

Author:Samways, Luis [Samways, Luis]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: The Purple Book Co.
Published: 2015-01-13T16:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

End Game

I finally come to. The ceiling looks dirty as I blink a few times. I can practically hear the dryness in my eyes as my eyelids struggle to unstick. It’s extremely hot. I grab at my face and feel the cold blood. I shoot up as I recall the situation that led to this. The silence in the room is deafening as I look around. No one is in the living room. The huge TV that I was admiring before is now broken and cracked. I get up and steady myself. There’s a strange smell in the room, an odor of absence. I turn around and make my way to the hallway. The stairs that lead upstairs look disturbed. Not in the sense that there are chunks missing out of them (Seth’s parents never got to fixing them, I guess), but the scattered clothing on the banister looks out of place. I don’t remember any clothes being on the stairs when I entered. The kitchen to my right catches my attention. The lighting from the bulbs in the kitchen is flickering like candles in a church. I notice the sparse light escaping from a crack in the door. That, too, wasn’t there before. My heart starts to race. Something just doesn’t feel right as I make my way to the kitchen door like a moth to a light source. I feel powerless but determined to find out what’s going on. If only I’d just walked out of the house, I wouldn’t be talking to you now.

I reach the door and touch the handle. I can just about see the tile floor through the inch-wide crack.

“Hello?” I say as I slowly open the door. The scene is one I wish I’d never witnessed. I have heard my dad spout about how he wished sometimes he wasn’t a court bailiff because he would have to hear about the crimes that the defendants committed while he was ensuring their stay in the courthouse. Well, I kind of feel the same way in this situation. If only I weren’t Seth’s “friend,” then I wouldn’t be witnessing this.

I walk in and see Dwaine sitting down with his face resting on the dining table. His body looks relaxed enough, as if he’s fast asleep across the hardwood dining surface, but the blood dripping from the table to the floor gives it away. As soon as I see that, I know he’s dead — that, and the knife in his head. I dart my eyes to the right and see that the door leading to the garden is wide open. I slowly make my way over to the door. Its fresh breeze hits me like a ton of bricks. I flick the switch next to the frame. It lights up the garden. I see Mike and Rocco on the garden chairs with beers in their hands. Their grips are tight around the Budweisers as I step in closer. The light from the kitchen escapes my back and lights up Mike’s and Rocco’s faces.

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