How to Solve Your Own Murder

Chapter 3: Witness

Virgil woke up to the sound of his phone ringing.

He shot up, throwing the blanket off of him. He looked down at his chest, breathing heavily and grabbing at it. Phantom pain was blooming in his sternum. He grit his teeth and curled in on himself, a soft groan escaped him.

That time had been worse than the last. He had felt his heart stop. He had felt himself die. With the baseball bat, it was similar to falling asleep. He had gone numb before his killer had dealt the final blow.

But with the knife? The knife was excruciating. It had penetrated his lungs, and he could feel himself drowning in his own blood, a fire alight in his chest. 

He blindly reached for his phone, which was still ringing. When his hand found it, he answered it and brought it to his ear. “Hello?” He mumbled breathlessly, still trying to compose himself.

“Vee?” The person on the other line asked, before giggling. “Hiiiii, Vee-Vee~”

Virgil felt a bit of his soul die.

The day was looping again, he was sure of it. A part of him had been hoping that he’d somehow survived the ordeal, that he’d been miraculously revived somehow.

But now he had to try and survive the day again. He was determined not to fail this time.

“Helloooooo~?” 

Virgil blinked, Janus’ voice bringing him back to reality. “Sorry, I’ll come unlock the door.” He murmured, getting out of bed. 

Janus gasped. “Woah! I didn’t even ask yet!”

“I didn’t know you were a mind reader, Stormcloud~” Remus’ tone was sardonic, a biting chuckle following the statement. 

Virgil scowled. “Shut up, Remus.” He growled, before hanging up.

Virgil threw the blanket off of himself, making his way over to the door. When he opened it, he was greeted with the sight of his wasted roommate and his (equally wasted) boyfriend: Remus Prince.

He didn’t bother making small talk this time, turning and going back to his bed.

“Someone’s grumpy~!” Janus’ voice followed him, Remus bursting into laughter. 

He slammed the door shut, taking a deep breath. 

He needed a plan. Third time's the charm, right? Virgil would survive this time, he was sure of it. He would find out who was trying to kill him (and why, hopefully), and he would live. 

But first?

He walked over to his window, watching Roman as he turned to talk to the approaching Patton.

First, he needed to stop Patton from laying his deceptively soft hands on Roman.

He quickly threw on something presentable (a sweater and jeans) and rushed downstairs (pointedly ignoring the two on the couch, who were making out).

When he reached the two of them, he quickly fixed his hair and stepped forward. 

“Princey, hey!” Virgil gave him a bright grin, which felt unnatural on his face. “How are you?”

He wanted to be less aggressive this time around, since that was probably what was getting him killed. He really needed to get his attitude in check.

Roman lit up. “Virgil! You’re up early!” He chirped, his voice practically music to the ears. “And you’re so chipper this morning! I’m doing great! How about you?” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” Virgil smiled. “I’m doing good.” 

He turned and looked at Patton, who was simpering at him expectantly.