Myla Roams Around

IV

IV : LEAK

After finishing their refreshment in a minute or two, they made me sit comfortably on the sofa. And then, I'm bound to remember what else has happened. I just found myself lying on my bed, waking up at 11 PM. I guess I'm too preoccupied by what Myla said; not to accept visitors; because I only had two the whole day. Maybe there's another one; there's still forty-three minutes before the date pass by.

I lied awake until 12 AM, waiting for a guest to knock on my door. There was not a single soul who passed by the house until 2 AM. So I went to my pillows again and took my mind to slumber. I wasn't stirred by Myla. Speaking of her note, did she do that on purpose to stop me from leaving the premises and stop the investigation? That's almost not possible though, I'm too interested on the investigation that I don't think I'll back out any minute now.

I was awakened when I felt something cold dripping on my cheek. I scrutinized the ceiling, and indeed, there's a hole on it. I'll check the attic later. The rain is pouring so hard and the skies are raging with lighting. Torrents of water dashed on the window pane; clicking, bustling—distracting me from the cut-outs I laid on the table. I realized that my comprehension is opaque as the skies, and I can't conclude anything from what I'm reading. I decided to check on the attic.

I climbed up the stairs. The steps are steep and narrow, so a fully-grown up man can hardly climb up. The rain won't get weaker, so it'll be easy to spot the leak. I gazed my eyes at the roof down to the wooden floor. There's this unusual, unpleasant odor that filled the whole room. It is pungent, and I can't withstand it. However, curiosity engulfed me. I kneeled on the planks and tried to peak through, but the odor just became stronger. It's pitch black, probably because of the ceiling. The smelly object intensified so I decided to check in the bedroom, which is just below the attic.

As I entered the room, the bed sheets are all wet already. I lifted up my chin to check the leak, and there's a perfectly round hole, too small to catch but easy to spot; with rainwater plummeting from it. The scent is stronger in here, and I can feel my nose almost bleeding due to its causticness. I sighed and climbed the bed. My long, tan arms reached it and punched my thumb on the leak. The foul trail seemed near—and when I realized it, with a creasing forehead, I scrutinized the ceiling.

I used a kitchen knife to stab the plywood down. It was creaky—probably because the house is old—and it wasn't difficult to slice through its squeaky edges. I managed to cut three sides well when something came off; to the bed, right from the ceiling.

18th of September, Year 1979

It was a body. 4'll feet. Wearing a white dress. And both cheeks lacerated, as if it was cut by something sharp. A grass cutter stuck in her throat.

"Yes, I'm going back to New York today. It's urgent, please do call Mr. Treck."