Bloody Bedroom

Dylan woke up due to the sun that hit his face which penetrated from the window. He covered his face with his palm and shut his eyes closed. The memories of last night came flooding back to his head and he smiled gently.

He moved his hand on the bed, hoping to touch Jane but he kept on moving his hand until he realized she was not there with him.

He opened his eyes, stretched and yawned lazily before standing to his feet.

“Jane?” he called but received no response.

He rubbed his eyes with his palm and walked towards the bathroom.

“Jane?” he knocked but received no response.

He was about calling again when he felt a sticky liquid under his feet.

He glanced down and raised his leg a bit to see a red muddy liquid. He looked around the room and suddenly raised his brows.

“What could that be?” he thought in his head as he walked over to where there was excess of the red liquid and he bent down to be sure of what it was.

He brushed his hands gently over it and perceived it.

BLOOD!

The name rang in his head. He panicked and slipped on the floor.

“What is happening?” His heart thud as he became alerted, then, he remembered one person_ Jane.

His panic turned to fear when he spotted a knife at the end of the bed, stained with blood.

He didn’t remember bringing along or seeing a knife with Jane. What for? And why was it stained with blood.

He picked it up and that was when he realized that the bedspread also has a stain. His hands began to shake.

“This-this… isn’t real,” he stammered and tried to convince himself but it was only the reality and despite himself, he began to cry.

In the moment of his emotion, the door to the room he was, barged open and his heart froze when he saw five men dressed in black who all pointed a gun directly at him. His heart thud as realization dawned on him that this was a crime and not just any crime, but murder!

But who could have done this?

“Drop your weapon,” one of the men said but he felt too dumb to do anything.

Dylan knew he had to be cautious. He knew that a little mistake could cost him his life so he did the simplest thing by raising his left hand up as he bent slowly to drop the knife, then he raised his hands up.

Though, he was still scared and he knew he didn’t do it but, he just had to co-operate with them.

“Put your hands behind your head,” said the cop again and Dylan did as told.

Three of the men came to him. Two went behind him and grabbed his hand before he felt a cuff on it while the man at the front kicked the knife away.

Dylan still couldn’t believe what was happening at the moment. He had never for once, thought about going to prison, and instead of a wristband or a wristwatch, he was wearing a cuff. All these were just too hard for him to believe.

“I didn’t do it,” he tried to convince them with an innocent look on his face but he was struck with something hard on his back which made him fell on his knees making him scream in pain.

They were about hitting him again when someone commanded them to stop.

Dylan raised his head up to see who his savior was, and standing behind the other two men, stood a lady dressed in a white shirt and black trouser who was looking sternly at him.

Behind the lady was the hotel attendant who had her hands covering her mouth as she shook on a spot.

That somehow cleared little of the confusion Dylan had.

The hotel attendant must have been to the room where he was earlier probably to inform them that their time was up but she must have met this gruesome incident and decided to call the cops. Definitely, she must have seen some other things, even if it’s just a clue about who the real murderer is.

That was what Dylan thought and it gave him a little hope, though, fear still lumped in his throat.

“Take him to the van!” the lady commanded and Dylan was handled roughly by the men.

“I didn’t do it. Please, you have to believe me,” Dylan pleaded when he was dragged to where the lady stood.

She signaled to the men and Dylan was dragged out of the room.

“Make sure no one comes in here,” she said to the hotel attendant.

“Yes ma’am,” she replied her and the lady walked out of the room.