that night

Vanessa was the nonchalant one of us, the purest heart I knew. To others, she was stubborn, the black sheep of the family. But I saw through the facade. I knew her kindness, her fierce loyalty.

Her boyfriend, Alex, was a different story. He was a guy everyone in the family hated. Mum had warned her countless times to stay away from him. Even Soyara had complained to me about how pretentious he was, how he was a bad influence on Vanessa. Nessa, ever the rebel, hid him from Mum, and only Soyara and I knew about their secret meetings.

That fateful night, everything changed. Vanessa had invited Alex over to our house. Mum and Dad had gone on a couples' date and wouldn't be back until the next day. Soyara was at school, leaving just me and Nessa at home.

That was the day you went to Harvard. Mum was so happy, she took Dad out that night to celebrate. They deserved a night out, a break from the whirlwind of emotions that had swept through our family.

But that night, Nessa took me to David's house. They lived just two houses away, and she had planned it with him to take me in for the night. She bribed me with my favorite video game, which David had at his place.

I knew she wanted to invite Alex over that night, but I was relieved I wouldn't be stuck with them. My ignorance, my blissful unawareness of what they might do alone, was a cruel comfort.

"But I met David on the train to Harvard," Soyara said, interrupting me. "We talked, had a good time. He kept me company." Her voice dripped with a calculated innocence, a deliberate attempt to shift the narrative.

"So what do you mean you stayed at his place that night?" I questioned, my eyes narrowing.

"Why did you meet him when you came home the next day?" Leila pressed, my voice laced with suspicion. "Did you have to meet him at the station? Couldn't you guys have come together ?" He should have even been at your hostel to console you, since he had before you. Leila said hissing.

"Because he came back too," Soyara replied, her voice becoming increasingly annoying. "He's at Harvard too, so it's not like we had a secret rendezvous."

"You're so naive, Soyara," Leila said, shaking my head. "I should have been the firstborn. You clearly lack the common sense to see through your own fabricated stories."

"He came home that same day, Soyara," I said, my voice firm. "He wasn't admitted to Harvard. He lied." The truth, like a sharp blade, pierced through her carefully crafted facade.

Unfortunately for Vanessa, Mum and Dad came back home that night, around past ten, arguing in heated tones. They were unaware of Alex's presence in the house, their anger focused on a conflict that had nothing to do with us.

I didn't know the full story of what really transpired that night. According to Vanessa, she had told Alex to stay quietly in her room while she distracted her parents.

Mum came in first, her voice sharp and accusatory. "I don't like it when you do that," she said, her tone laced with disapproval. The volume of her voice, an unexpected intrusion in the tense silence of the house, alerted Nessa. She quickly made her way to the parlor, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and surprise.

"Mum, how did you get in?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"If we didn't come, you would have left the gate open for a thief to rob us," Mum replied, her voice laced with a sharp edge of anger.

As their conversation continued, a chilling sound broke the tension. Alex emerged from Vanessa's room, a gun in his hand. Vanessa, her face pale with horror, stammered in shock. "I told you not to come out... what are you doing with a gun?"

Mum, though visibly angry, was not immediately shocked. Her anger intensified. "What is this boy doing in our house, Vanessa?" she demanded, her voice rising with each syllable. "I told you to stay away from him."

"Hey, hey, Mrs., this is not a toy gun," Alex said, his voice smug, devoid of remorse.

"I will call your father now," Mum said, her voice laced with cold fury. "I think I still have his number. He should come and pick the rascal he is raising."

Vanessa, confused and terrified, tried to explain. She knew Alex wasn't joking when he said the gun wasn't a toy. She knew the danger.

As Mum reached for the door, her intention to retrieve her bag and phone to call his dad, a deafening crack echoed through the house. A bullet was released, slamming into her chest. Silence descended, thick and suffocating. Nessa, her eyes wide with disbelief, screamed, "That didn't sound like one!"

Dad, alerted by the gunshot, rushed in from the compound. He had been waiting outside, hoping for Mum's anger to subside. He burst through the door, only to be met by another deafening crack. Another bullet, this time piercing his head.

Vanessa's scream, a raw cry of agony and despair, filled the house, a chilling testament to the horrors that had unfolded in the blink of an eye.

"Why did you do that?!" Vanessa screamed, the raw, desperate cry of a young woman witnessing the unthinkable, the unimaginable. Her words, a desperate plea for understanding, hung heavy in the silence that had enveloped the house.

Her voice, echoing off the walls, was a stark contrast to the chilling stillness that had descended upon the room. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, the scent of death, a potent reminder of the violence that had just unfolded.

The scene was one of unspeakable horror. Mum, her body slumped against the door, a crimson stain spreading across her once vibrant blouse. Dad, slumped on the floor, blood pooling around his head, a stark testament to the unforgiving power of the bullet.

Vanessa, her face contorted in a mask of pain and disbelief, looked at Alex, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and confusion. The boy, who had just moments ago been her confidante, her lover, now stood before her, a murderer, a monster.

"Why?" she repeated, her voice cracking, her heart shattering into a million pieces. "Why did you do this?"

The question hung in the air, a desperate plea for an answer that wouldn't come. Alex stood there, his face expressionless, his eyes devoid of any emotion, his silence a chilling confirmation of the unthinkable act he had committed.