30 Reasons To Read

Episode 3: Killer on loose

For a long time, I never knew my best friend, Maria, had a habit of sleepwalking. Maybe if I had known earlier, she would still be alive today. But I was a deep sleeper and by the time I discovered her secret, it was too late.

Maria was always so full of life. We had been roommates for two years, and in all that time, I had never noticed anything odd. I don’t know when she developed the habit, but I do know it was sometime before things started to change in our neighbourhood.

It was the end of May when a string of mysterious murders began to plague the area. No one felt safe anymore. Police patrolled 24/7, but despite their presence, the killings continued. Maria and I avoided going out as much as possible, clinging to the safety of our apartment. But nothing felt truly safe.

One night, a sense of unease twisted in my stomach. It wasn’t just the tension from the news. It was something more, something physical. Indigestion, I told myself, trying to shake off the creeping anxiety. I went to bed early, but my sleep was fractured, filled with brief and restless naps.

Just after 2 a.m., I finally gave in and decided to get up. I needed something to settle my stomach, so I headed for the kitchen to grab some herbs and water. But when I switched on the bedroom light, my heart skipped a beat. Maria wasn’t in her bed.

"She’s probably in the bathroom," I reassured myself, but when I peeked inside, it was empty. My pulse quickened as I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, hurriedly dialling her number.

A muffled ringtone broke the silence. I froze. It was coming from beneath her pillow. Panic gripped me as I dropped the phone, spinning toward the window. That’s when I saw it, a small figure moving down the street, barely illuminated by the dim streetlights.

It was Maria.

My breath caught in my throat. A killer was on the loose and there she was, walking right into the night. I had no idea why! I didn't stop to call for help. I burst out of the hostel and sprinted down the road, adrenaline pushing me forward. Maria had gone too far, her figure barely visible in the distance. I ran, my legs hurting like crazy, desperate to catch up with her.

I screamed her name, but she didn't even flinch. It was only then that I realized that Maria was sleepwalking.

Frantic, I glanced around, scanning the dark streets for any sign of danger. The killer could be anywhere, lurking in the shadows. I made a mental note to tear into Maria for scaring me like this once we were back safely. But first, I had to get her back.

I was so close, almost able to reach out and grab her wrist when a figure stepped out of the darkness and blocked our path.

My heart stopped.

The woman standing before us was drenched in blood. Thick, red streaks stained her nightgown, and her long hair clung to her pale skin, slick with blood. Her expression was eerily blank, her eyes glassy and distant, as if she too were in some kind of trance. In her hand, she held a long, blood-soaked sword, dripping with fresh crimson.

I froze in horror. Maria had stopped walking too, both of us standing there like idiots, staring at the ghostly woman.

Never in my worst nightmares had I imagined we would come face to face with the killer terrorizing our neighborhood.

Before I could even react, the piercing wail of police sirens filled the night, followed by the sounds of officers shouting through megaphones. I turned, feeling a surge of relief as police jeeps tore down the road towards us.

"Ladies, step away! She is the killer!" One of the officers yelled, his voice booming. "Move away! Now!"

I reached for Maria, ready to pull her toward safety when a sudden searing pain shot through my body. I gasped, looking down in disbelief. A knife was lodged in my abdomen.

But what truly horrified me was the hand holding the knife.

It was Maria's.

I stared at her, my mind reeling, trying to make sense of it. But before I could even process what was happening, Maria pulled the knife out and drove it into me again in the exact same spot. I screamed, a gut-wrenching cry as blood gushed from the wound. My body collapsed against her, my vision blurring.

The panicked screams of police rang in my ears. "Stop! Drop the weapon or we will shoot!"

But Maria didn't stop. She pulled the knife out once again and I braced for the next strike.

Then, two gunshots ripped through the air before everything went black.

I woke up three days later in a hospital bed, disoriented and aching. Slowly, the memories came rushing back. The knife. The blood. Maria's face, blank and unknowing as she stabbed me.

Maria was dead. The police had been forced to shoot her that night. I learned that she had been sleepwalking for weeks, unknowingly killing people in her sleep. The blood-covered woman we had encountered was the wife of Maria's most recent victim, who had been murdered just minutes before I found Maria.

The realization crushed me. Memories of us huddling together, whispering about the mysterious killings, flooded my mind. All the while, the murderer we had been so afraid of... was her.

A part of me will always wonder if I could have saved her that night if I could have helped her before things went so wrong. But I will never know!

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