Room 13 Murder

Trixabelle's Story. (Pt 1)

~Kirsty's POV~

"TRIXABELLE!" yelled Summer as she pulled on her baggy beige coat over her short grey crop-top.

"Oh, Summer, dear," I said with a frown on my face. "Must you be so negative to your sister?"

"Sorry mum." muttered Summer reluctantly, twisting her hair around a curling iron. Trixabelle came barging down the stairs, thrusting her backpack over her shoulder. I sighed and straightened it and brushed her messy hair.
"How much hair do you need, Trix?" I laughed. Trixabelle frowned.
"How long will it take for you to say my full name? 'Trix' makes me sound like a dog!" argued Trixabelle, much to Summer's amusement.
"Girls get up! You'll be late; go go go!" I screamed and hustled them out of the door hastily.

I watched them leave and smiled. 'Today is a new day!' I thought. 'Let's hope they are okay...'

~Trix's POV~

I dropped Summer off at school and bolted to my job interview. Hope filled my heart and spread through my chest as I reached the giant glass door entrance to the skyscraper. 'Let's hope I do well.' I thought.

I stepped through the entrance and stared around the lobby. It was HUGE! Many people stopped working and stared at me. I felt awkward and skulked to reception quickly. The young woman at the desk looked up from her computer and said simply, "Name and business?" I stared at her in disbelief.
"My name is Trixabelle Wood and I'm here for an interview."
"Date of birth?" she enquired. I wasn't surprised at the question as I had filled out a form two days earlier. I spoke calmly,
"6th of July." The girl started tapping away on her computer.
"Room 13, Mr Brighton." she beamed at me.
I left the desk and ran up the nearest staircase.
'Room 11,' I counted in my head. 'Room 12, Room 14, Room- WAIT!'

WHERE WAS ROOM 13?! I counted again, thinking I miscounted.  '12, 14, 15!' There was no Room 13. I wasn't crazy! I went back to reception and asked where my interview was to be held. She didn't take her eyes off her computer and repeated,

"Room 13..."
I finally lost it. I yelled at her saying there was no room 13 and made quite the scene. She looked started but nonetheless she led me up the very same staircase and pointed at a room. I read the numbers engraved in the wood door.

'Room 13.' How?! How could it be there and then not be there? I thought maybe I missed it and apologised to the woman and turned the handle. In I went. It was dark, dank and dusty. But not empty. I wasn't alone. I saw a skinny man in a black suit on a stool in the shadowy corner of the room. As he stepped out into the light, I realised who he was. My ex boyfriend Carlo. He stared at me. For a split second, I swore I saw a glint of red in his green eyes, sunken into his pale face. I freaked out. I fell backwards into a chair. Cuffs locked around my wrist and ankles. He drew a knife. I screamed for help. None came. Stab! Then,
Black.

I woke up 7 weeks later in hospital. Everything was hazy and I told everyone who would listen about what happened. What I heard from a man named Ralph who claimed to work from that company said something that shook me and will haunt me forever.
That place didn't have a reception desk.
That place didn't have a man named Carlo.
That place didn't have a Room 13.

The End.

Word count: 610. Part 2 coming soon. Comment if you liked it, or if you didn't. This is my first one. Hope you liked it. This isn't real but based off a story I have heard. Less story, more a rumour of a legend.