The rain had started — a few drops here and there. The cold wind formed curtains of dust, obscuring the visibility ahead. His hair brushed in the wind. Adjusting the strap of his bag, he sighed and took a slow step forward.
One.
Then another.
His legs moved from the school gate towards his home.
Then—
"Shiv!"
The voice cracked through the storm like thunder.
Shiv froze.
He turned his head slightly, and through the curtain of dust, he saw them — Vansh and four others standing by the school wall, their dark figures slowly emerging from the haze.
Vansh stepped forward, his orange hair swinging in the air, his eyes glowing with burning anger.
"You thought you could just walk away after what you did?"
Shiv's heartbeat spiked. "I told you — I didn't do anything."
"Liar!" Vansh's voice broke with rage. "You think I'll believe that? Raju and Sam are gone because of you! You cursed them, didn't you?"
The others grabbed Shiv and dragged him behind the school building into a secluded place, away from the eyes of others. A few students saw but decided not to intervene and went their way.
Thud!
"Ah—!"
Forcing Shiv against the wall, they formed a semicircle, trapping him and closing any chance of escape. The wind roared around them, and with each passing minute, the rain fell heavier — every drop echoing the tension in the air.
Shiv lifted his head slightly and looked at them. "Please, I didn't do anything. Just let me go."
"As if I'll let you go without you telling me what you did to them," Vansh snarled.
Then, he swung.
The punch landed square across Shiv's cheek, snapping his head to the side. Pain exploded in his jaw, and he stumbled back, but before he could regain balance, another fist hit him in the stomach. The air burst out of his lungs, and he dropped to his knees, gasping.
"Tell me where they are!" Vansh shouted, grabbing a fistful of his hair and dragging him up.
"I don't know!" Shiv coughed, his voice raw. "I swear — I don't know anything!"
Vansh's friends joined in — kicks, punches, boots slamming into his ribs and back. The wind masked their sounds, but the dull thuds carried through the surroundings.
One of them grabbed Shiv by the hair, forcing his face up to the flickering streetlight. Blood mixed with rainwater ran down his chin.
"Look at him," one of them hissed. "Still pretending he's innocent."
"Pathetic."
Lifting his head by the hair, they plastered Shiv's head against the hard concrete. His vision blurred, his nose broken — warm liquid dropped like a bloodfall. The air smelled like rusted iron.
Another kick — hard enough to throw him against the wall. Shiv's body folded as he slid down, his palms pressing against the wet ground. The pain was unbearable, but deeper than the pain was the humiliation.
The pain was blinding. Shiv gasped, coughing blood. His body refused to move.
Everything burns — my jaw, lips, head, my body, my breath — everything. My entire body is burning with pain. Every heartbeat echoes with one truth—
They'll never stop.
They'll never stop hurting me.
And they'll never stop hating me.
Vansh knelt in front of him, panting, his voice shaking with fury. "They were my friends, Shiv. My brothers. And after what happened to Maya — don't you dare tell me it's a coincidence."
Shiv lifted his head weakly. His eyes met Vansh's.
"I didn't curse anyone…" he whispered. "I didn't want any of this." His eyes unfocused.
Vansh's hand trembled slightly. "Then what the hell were you doing there after I left?"
"I… I was—" Shiv took a shallow breath and whispered.
"You were what?" Vansh asked, his voice hurried.
"I was jus—" Shiv's words cut off as he lost consciousness.
"You were what? Say what then, you bastard!" Vansh grabbed Shiv's collar and slammed his unconscious body against the wall.
"I think he passed out, Vansh," someone said.
"And we should leave now. If someone saw us like this, it won't be good for us."
Tch…
With a click of his tongue, Vansh stood up, his hair wet from the rain, his eyes fixed on the unconscious Shiv.
"This isn't over. We'll continue our little chat, Shiv."
With that, he turned around and left. Soon, the others followed.
Leaving Shiv alone. Rainwater mixed with blood flowed from his nose. His whole body battered and bruised, his school uniform red with blood.
Lightning flashed across the sky.
.
.
.
.
.
Flash!
A camera shutter broke the silence.
"Inspector Singh, what do you think happened here?"
The flash lit up the room — an old, withered place where walls bled crimson. A man held a camera, his ID swaying on his neck.
"To tell you the truth, Jay…" Inspector Singh exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I don't know. I've never seen anything like this before."
Jay raised an eyebrow and snapped another picture. Flash! "What do you mean?"
Inspector Singh stepped closer to the long wooden table at the center. His eyes scanned the dried blood covering every inch.
"What I mean is, it doesn't make any sense." He circled the table slowly and stood near Jay.
"Just look at this table — it's drenched in dried blood. Even the ground, as if a puddle of blood surrounded it. And the walls are no exception; they too have been painted in red."
Jay crouched, examining the stains closely. "Do you think there were multiple victims?"
"From the looks of it," Singh said, massaging his jaw, "it appears that way."
Jay straightened up, disbelief painted on his face. His camera hung still in his hand. "Could it be that all the missing people were brought here and then go—"
"—Got killed here," Singh finished grimly. "Most likely in a very gruesome manner."
Another officer nearby muttered, "But how could anyone bring so many people here without anyone noticing? Even if this place is a bit far from the residential area…"
Singh didn't respond immediately. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes and a metal lighter. The flame came alive, casting its orange glow on his tired face.
"But that is not what I'm worried about." He took a drag and exhaled the smoke. "What bothers me are the marks on this table."
"What about the marks?" Jay asked, scanning the table.
"Puff…" Singh exhaled slowly. "Yes, the marks." Leaning closer. "What bothers me is how deep they are in the table, and how every other mark is slightly different from the last."
He continued, his tone low. "I'm sure you've already guessed that this place has been used to dissect bodies. The blood on the table and the marks were made by something heavy, maybe not very sharp, but sharp enough."
Tracing his gloved fingers over the grooves, Singh paused. "Probably an axe, or a heavy blade… maybe a cleaver? Whatever tool the killer used, he would've needed a lot of strength to cut through bone. And judging from the marks, the weapon wasn't particularly sharp."
Singh turned toward Jay. "The splashes of blood on the walls indicate the victims were alive — conscious. They probably struggled. To do this, one needs to be strong. Very, very strong."
Jay's stomach turned. "Alive?"
Inspector Singh nodded.
"Maybe there are multiple killers working together?" Jay asked.
"That's what I would have thought before," Singh said, "but those bloodied footprints tell me a different story."
He pointed toward the other exit of the room. Jay followed his finger.
Jay directed his camera to click a picture of the footprints but noticed something. "I think there's something near the footprints."
They walked over. Inspector Singh knelt down to look closer. "Hmm, a cigarette?" He carefully picked it up with his gloved hand and placed it in an evidence bag. "Other than the dried blood, this is the only clue we've found."
"Yes," Jay nodded in agreement. "By the way, when did you start smoking? I've worked with you many times, but I've never seen you smoke before."
Singh sighed humorlessly. "Hah… just started again last week, after the higher-ups kept forcing me to close the cases of missing people."
"About the missing persons cases?" Jay raised his eyebrows.
"I don't know, but for some reason, they want me to close every missing-person case I've taken ASAP. It's me who's stubbornly refusing to do so."
He took one last drag of his cigarette and carefully placed it in a small box he pulled from his pocket. "Can't litter the crime scene."
"I've been following these missing-person cases for the last two weeks," Singh continued. "Two weeks ago, a man suddenly went missing. Then a woman. Then a father and son last week. Around the same time, a school teacher disappeared a few days ago. And this morning, I went to look into two school students who vanished yesterday. And this—" he gestured at the room,
"—is where it led us," Jay finished Singh's words.
"Yes," Singh said, his voice low. "And the more I dig, the more it stinks. If the higher-ups really want these cases buried…" He exhaled smoke again. "Then someone knows something we don't."
Jay's thoughts raced. Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong in this city.
And if what Inspector Singh said is true — that higher officials are trying to close the cases quickly — it only leads to one possibility. And I hope what I'm thinking is not true…
RING!!
Inspector Singh's phone rang, snapping Jay out of his thoughts.
"Hello, this is Inspector Singh speaking."
He paused, listening.
"What? You found what?"