I can barely type, my hands are shaking so violently that my fingertips just skate over the keyboard. I've had tunnel vision for the past hour and a half, the voices of the police bounced around in my skull. I did my best to answer them, even showed them the video, but all my answers were stock, like a record on repeat, I was somewhere else.
I need to back up, to collect my thoughts and explain to you what happened. It's easy to forget that for some, nothing has changed, their world isn't falling apart before their eyes. It was around 9 pm last night, I had just gotten off of work and was heading home when my phone rang. I struggled to pull it out of my pocket and hit the answer button, silently cursing the rain that was pounding at my windshield, drowning out the call.
"Hey John, do you think you can grab some eggs on the way home? I was thinking about making a quiche tomorrow morning." a muffled voice rang through the speakers. The voice belonged to Jessica, my girlfriend of going on four years.
"Yeah, no problem babe." I yell over the pounding of the rain. "I'll stop by the gas station, be home in 10."
"Ok, and while you're there... do you think you can pick something else up for me?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"Uh... I ran out of... hygiene products..."
I couldn't help but smile, such a way with words. "No problem, Jess. I'll see you soon."
"You're the best, I love you."
"Love you too."
I lowered the phone from my ear, and clicked the red button. Two new notifications popped up, saying I had two missed calls from my friend, Richie. I tossed the phone into the passenger seat. He was going to have to wait, another call in this storm just may be the death of me.
I pulled in to the gas station and parked my car, grabbing my phone and holding the collar of my jacket over my head as I ran for the door, feet slapping against the wet concrete. I through the doors open and let out a long sigh as I shook my jacket off, squinting in the stark neon lights.
"Hello, can I help you find anything?" said an old woman that looked and smelled like she just eats cigarettes at this point.
"No, thank you." I say politely, holding my breath as I pass the counter towards the fridges. My phone dings as I'm looking through the eggs and I glance at the screen, which read that I had a snapchat from Jessica. I unlocked it and opened the app, clicking on the red square. A picture of Jessica in her bra popped up, with the caption "a reward for being such an amazing boyfriend." I smile as the timer runs out and the picture disappears. I notice the purple icon in the bottom right and click on it, three new stories posted. I shrug and click on the first one. It was a guy from highschool, someone I hadn't talked to since then, with an hour long story of him at the club, zooming in on various women and cackling manically.
"Anything to showoff your social life, creep." I mutter to myself, and click on the next one. This one belonged to a girl at my work, which featured a picture of a glass of wine and her cat, posed almost too perfectly to be candid. The timer runs out and shows one story left, posted by Richie five minutes ago. The little preview was almost completely black, except for one area that looked as if it were being lit by a flashlight. I clicked on his name and the video opened.
My suspicions were confirmed when a nearly dark screen played, followed by the click of a flashlight, illuminating the hallway. I recognized the hall as the one outside of Richie's bedroom, I could barely make out the photos hung neatly on the wall. There was no talking, only the soft thuds of boots on the carpeted floor. The circle of light paced back and forth between the walls, almost as if it were dancing. The video ended and the next one began, now inside Richie's bedroom. The light hovered over Richie's bed, empty and with the sheets thrown over. The light moved to the other side of the room and paused on his nightstand, where a picture of Richie and his girlfriend sat, the harsh light from the phone glaring against the glass. I remember that day, I was the one who took the picture. This time there were two sounds. Whoever was taking the video was humming softly, to what sounded like the song from Twisted Nerve. The other was almost inaudible, but with the volume all the way turned up, sounded like heavy breathing and whimpering. The timer ran out and played the next video, which began with the light darting quickly to the closet across from his bed, the humming pausing for a moment, before starting up again, twice as loud. The closet became brighter and brighter as the light moved closer, pausing for a second as the man finished humming the high notes, whimpering clearly audible now, before throwing open the door. My stomach dropped as I stared at the small screen, which displayed a battered and sobbing Richie huddled in the corner of the closet.
"P... please just leave me alone, I..." He stuttered, but was cut off as a gloved hand came into view, the light shining brightly off the polished leather.
The hand was holding a gun.
"NO PLEA..."
BANG
Richie's head rocked backwards as his brains exploded onto the back wall, eyes rolling into the back of his head and blood pouring out of his nose like a crimson waterfall. I screamed and jumped so violently that my phone fell out of my hands, clattering face down onto the floor. I gasped for air and clung to the shelf for support, gurgling and coughing playing from the speakers of my phone, before a second gun shot rang out and the video ended.
The air seemed to stand still as the only sounds in the gas station were the hums of the refrigerator and my heavy breathing. I could feel the color drain from my face, my fingers turning ice cold.
"Sir, are you ok?" the old lady asked with a concerned look. I jumped at the sound of her voice and looked up at her, her concern turned to fear as she saw my expression.
"C... call the police." I mumbled, unable to recognize my own voice.
"Is everything ok? What happened?"
"Please... Just..." I started, before collapsing to the floor. I heard the woman gasp and begin dialing the phone. I propped myself up against the shelf and stared blankly at the eggs in front of me, thinking of everything and of nothing at the same time. It had to be some sort of sick joke, right? I glanced over at my phone, willing myself to pick it up, to see another missed call from Richie with a voicemail telling me that he couldn't believe I fell for it. I raised a shaking hand and grasped the cold metal object, before lifting it and turning the screen towards me. The screen timer had expired and I was faced with a black mirror, staring at the stranger in the reflection.
"Man, he looks shitty. I'd hate to be that guy." I thought to myself, before pressing the home button. Snapchat immediately opened back up, proudly displaying another entry to Richie's final story, posted 30 seconds ago. My finger was shaking so violently that I missed the button several times, before finally tapping it. This one was a picture, a close up of Richie's face. All the live had drained out of his eyes, and the wall and carpet surrounding his head was nothing but red. Positioned just above the bullet hole was a text box.
"First person to view this story is next."
The phone slid out of my hand and rested on my leg. I didn't know if I was the first to watch it, the videos had been up for five minutes before I viewed them, but I didn't care. The only thing I could think about was how Richie had just added his mother to Snapchat a few months ago, in an attempt to get her more into technology.
I could see the flashing red and blue in the reflective glass of the fridge. The woman pointed over to where I was and two uniformed men walked over.
"Sir, what's wrong?" one of them asked, kneeling beside me. I tried to speak, but my mouth was too dry.
"Sir?"
I slowly turned to face him, staring deep into his eyes, before muttering "2243 Glencove Drive" and pointing at Richie's story. The cops glanced at each other as one stood and took my phone. He watched the story before calling it in on his radio.
The rest of the night is a blur, I remember Jessica arrived at the station a few minutes after I got there. She was crying and holding onto me, but I just wasn't there. The cops held onto my phone for evidence, recording the story into their own files, before returning it to me.
"Is there anything you need, John?" a cop asked. I looked up and recognized him as Dillon Mully, Richie's lab partner in sophomore biology.
"No... I'm ok. Thank you." I mumbled, before standing and taking Jessica's hand. "I think I just need some rest."
"Of course, if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."
I nodded without saying anything and lead Jessica to her car. She was still sobbing and telling me everything was going to be alright, but it was just reverberating around my head. We got into the car and drove home, I shut off the car and sat back in the seat, Jessica sniffling in the seat next to me.
"I... I just can't believe it..." she whimpered.
"Yeah." I replied, one of my famous stock answers.
"Let's go inside, we can talk, or not, whatever will help."
"I think I'd like to be alone."
She seemed taken aback, "John I don't think that's a good idea..."
"Please, I'll be in in a few minutes." I said. I know how it must've looked, but it wasn't like that. I just needed to clear my head, before I said or did something I'd regret. After a few failed attempts of changing my mind, Jessica got out of the car.
"I love you John, I want you to know I love you more than anything in the world."
"I know, I love you too sweetie."
She closed the door and made her way up to the front door, glancing back a few times before stepping inside. As soon as the front door closed I burst into tears, holding my face in my hands and digging my fingernails into my skin. I could only think of the two missed calls. Was he calling for help? I was on his speed dial so he may not have had time to dial 911, I was his only life line and I let him down.
I could have saved him.
I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and I raised my face from my hands, breathing heavily and glancing down at it. I had half a mind to destroy the thing once I got it back, but I decided against it, I'd have funeral arrangements to help set up. I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen, feeling that familiar feeling of dread and anguish as it notified me that I received a new snap from Richie. My hand began to shake once again as I unlocked it and opened snap chat. The police searched Richie's house top to bottom, but his phone was no where to be found. I sat there for what seemed like hours, staring at the message from the man who murdered my best friend, summoning the courage to play another video from this psychopath. I finally gained the strength to hit the play button, before dropping my phone onto the floor of the car, and sprinting into the house. The message was a video of my house, of Jessica talking to me and walking up the stairs, of me sobbing in the drivers seat as it slowly zoomed in until my face took up the entire screen, five words written out in the text box.
"Jonathan Newport, lucky number seven."
Submitted February 10, 2017 at 05:01AM by PMyourfemalegenitals http://ift.tt/2k8JC3e nosleep
No comments:
Post a Comment