Chapter 3
Daphne
I could not sleep all night. All I did was toss and turn, trying to disappear into the sheets but the memories were too vivid, they danced in my vision - a nightmare I could not wake up from.
I pretended to be asleep when Stacey woke up for her usual 7am run, and continued pretending when she got back to get ready for class.
I was curled up like a ball under the comforter, my head buried into my pillow, eyes pressed shut. I heard her hesitating when the alarm rang signalling it was 9am. Maybe she thought of waking me up, but thankfully she's used to me sleeping in after gaming all night.
Finally, I hear footsteps scurrying past our beds and the soft click of the door shutting on her way out. I groan out loud, my body aching all over for no apparent reason.
There's no point lying here like this. I haven't got a wink of sleep. My nerves are too jittery, body trembling slightly and I look down to the dress I haven't changed out of.
I feel like burning it, but then I suddenly remember Aaron and why I wore it in the first place. I quickly rush to my bag hanging over the chair and grab my phone. My thumb glides over the screen and I look through my unread messages.
There's a few from Elizabeth asking me if everything was 'okay'. I quickly send a 'good morning' text to let her know I was fine. There are others from class - group chats discussing assignments and projects.
But none from Aaron.
My eyebrows bunch together in a frown. That's odd. He's the one who disappeared last night, the least he could have done was text me.
Unless...something happened to him.
I lean forward, clutching my head, my fingers easing through the knots in my hair. My head has started to pound as I think back to the bag with the white substance inside. The one he handed me before disappearing.
And then the loud bang that echoed from the back, the one that distracted him from kissing me.
I clutch my head and rock back and forth on the bed. Could Aaron have been involved somehow with the men in the back alley?
I shake my head. No. No way. That doesn't make any sense.
I need to know if he's okay, so I bring up my phone and dial his number immediately. The call goes through and some hiphop song about getting rich plays in the background. I tap my bare foot on the floor, listening to the sordid lyrics but seconds pass and there is no answer.
My grip on the phone tightens and a newfound fear blooms in my chest. What if he's hurt?
I stand up and pace the room, my heart thumping loudly in my chest. I have class at 9.30am and maybe Aaron will be there. Maybe he simply lost his phone and that's why he's not answering. Maybe I'm just worrying for nothing.
I stare at the ground, feeling lost and unsure of what to do. What would someone in my position do? Go to the police?
I bite my lip, wondering if that was the first thing I should have done last night. Only, I was too worried about all those men in dark clothes searching the streets. All I wanted to do was get away.
My thoughts run a mile a minute, recounting every second I spent at that stupid, dodgy bar. My eyes squeeze shut as I remember the silent gun shot and the man falling to the ground dead.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I shake my head vehemently, trying to get a hold of myself. I need to do something, maybe find Aaron. He'll probably be able to make sense of everything, like the white block in the bag was probably name cards or candy.
Even I know how wishful that sounds.
Never mind. I'll head to class to check if he's there. Yes, that's what I'll do.
Steeling my nerves, I focus on scrubbing myself clean from head to toe. I wash my hair, hoping it will ease the pounding in my head and then I put on a comfortable long sleeved top and jeans. I grab my satchel bag and head downstairs, wincing at the blinding bright rays from the sun.
God, why does it have to be so sunny? My headache worsens as I hurry along the footpath, ignoring the cheerful banter from students passing by, wishing I could turn back time so that I'd never set foot in that stupid T-bar.
Most of my classmates are already seated as our lecturer walks in. I hurry past her and take a seat at the back of the room, scanning every head in front of me for curly dark hair.
Fifteen minutes pass, then it becomes thirty and it slowly dawns on me that Aaron wasn't coming to class.
He never misses computer lab.
I glance down at my phone, the Home Screen devoid of messages or calls. He never called me back.
My apprehension builds like a pot of boiling water threatening to erupt. I can't concentrate on the lesson, I can't focus on anything other than the fact that Aaron might be hurt and I witnessed a crime last night.
By the time class is over, I realise I need to do something I should have done the minute I left T-bar.
I grab my stuff and squeeze through the crowd of students leaving the room. It's one of those days where I wish I had a car, because I have to wait as the Uber gets lost on the way here and then cancels my ride.
It takes two tries for one to finally arrive and by then I'm a wreck, pacing the entrance of the dormitory like a mad woman.
The girls are texting each other, planning to meet for lunch. I tell them I'm tired and will be taking a nap before I slip into the back seat of the Uber.
The man in front glances at me surreptitiously through the rear view mirror and suddenly everyone and everything is suspicious. I keep my gaze on the road, making sure we're going down the right path.
The view of the precinct's dark grey building comes into view after a while and I breathe a sigh of relief. Coming here was the right thing to do.
I pay my fare and hurry out of the car, skipping past the steps that lead up to the bustling building. There's a counter out front and I didn't think the police station would be this busy but there are people crowding the space.
I hear a group of women complaining about some car accident and careless drivers and there's another girl who claims she's being cyber bullied. I wait in line, my fingers digging into my palms until it's finally my turn.
A tired looking woman with light brown hair and blue eyes glances up at me briefly. "Yes?"
I lean closer to the small slit below the barrier separating me from the officer. "Umm, I'd like to report a crime," I whisper.
She sighs, looking like she's about to roll her eyes, almost as if she's heard this a hundred times before. "What crime? Also can I get your name, please?"
My eyes flicker to the open doors behind her - office rooms, by the look of them. Three men stand in one, talking loudly, laughing, coffee cups in hand. Then I see the guns strapped to their hips, and my gaze fixes on the man with his back to me.
More specifically on the tattoo snaking up his thick arm, disappearing past his shirt sleeve.
Why does it look so familiar?
"State the crime, please?" The woman snaps and I respond immediately.
"Murder."
At hearing this her gaze piques with curiosity. Her shoulders straighten and she places her hands in front of her. "Go on."
I shift in place, my discomfort growing because there are too many people around and that man at the back....I remember him from somewhere. I just don't know where.
"I witnessed it last night."
The woman looks at me impatiently and when she notices how hesitant I look, she tells me to wait there. She then gets up and walks outside to meet me.
"Follow me."
I do as told, matching her footsteps as she leads me down a short hallway and stops in front of a door. Her keys jiggle as she fiddles to unlock the door and then she gestures inside.
"Wait here. One of our officers will be with you in a minute."
I nod and walk in to take a seat by the empty table. The metal chair groans when I sit down and stare at my surroundings. The room is empty, save for a small window with sunlight filtering through, a plain wooden table and two metals chairs on either side of it.
I place my hand on the smooth surface and then my eyes flit to the surveillance camera by the corner of the ceiling. It's facing me directly and my paranoia grows with each blinking red dot.
My stomach growls with hunger and I suddenly need to use the washroom, my bladder full from all the water I guzzled in the morning. I stand up and head outside, looking out for the toilets. There should be one around here somewhere.
It takes me a few turns down another corridor till I finally find one, and once I've relieved myself, I feel a little calmer. The sound of men chattering echoes from one of the rooms and I startle at the Russian accent.
It reminds me of the mysterious man from last night and I don't know why but my cheeks burn at the memory of his lips on mine.
There's definitely something wrong with me.
Which is why I do something crazy, like tiptoe closer to the sound and peer inside through the narrow slit of the slightly opened door.
"Don't worry, we're looking for them. The junior officer mentioned someone came in reporting a murder. Will look into it, boss." This accent is American and it comes from the older man behind the desk, his thin moustache dancing as he speaks.
There's another man seated in front of him, with his back to me. He's wearing a hat and a dark floor length coat. "My boss needs this now, Weston. Don't make us wait."
"We're doing all we can. Trust me we'll find them." There are so many badges on his uniform and my eyes widen when I see that his title is 'chief officer'. Since when does a chief officer report to a Russian?
My discomfort grows and I can't tell if it's worry or if I'm simply dying of hunger. Either way, I hurry past the room in search for that female officer out front, but up ahead are three officers heading my way.
The one with the tattoo is still holding his coffee when it hits me like a bolt of lightning - he's the one from the couch. He was at T-Bar last night, seated with the guys who gestured for me to join them.
It slowly dawns on me that coming here might not have been a good idea.
"Can we help you?" The officers stop in front of me and I immediately shake my head.
"I was just looking for the bathroom," I mumble, averting my gaze from the police officer with the tattoo. "Came here to report my stolen phone."
I tuck my phone in my pocket and give them a polite smile. Time stretches uncomfortably as the four of us stare at each other and for a second I think they won't let me pass through.
They finally move to the side, giving me way and I rush past them, eager to get the hell out of this place. I keep my face turned away from the tattooed man, hoping he doesn't recognise me.
The woman police officer calls out to me just as I leave the building but I ignore her, speed walking as fast as I can, till I'm as far away from the tattooed man and the scary Russian barking orders at the chief.
Up above, the sky has darkened and I can't help but wonder if it's a foreboding sign of what's to come.