Call Out

Red under your bed.

Everyone's on the radar with him, especially Susana.

The primary suspect... Any of them could have done it.

This cannot be overlooked.

"All good Keith?" Johnathan called out as he ravaged the wooden cabinet, scrunching some paper up. His eyes immediately darted towards Keith as he entered the room, who was still flushed and vulnerable. Keith appeared as though he could fall any second — shoulders hunched, drooped head and eyes swollen and evidently, the red outlining the contour was the proof. Dry trails of tears streaked across his face and evident in his unsteady breathing, Keith reached for the nearby box of tissue and wiped his face clean freshly from any remnant of sorrow.

   "Better... So what did I miss?" His lackadaisical face lit up like a broken toy, budging one last time as he attempted to smile. The white headband caressed his neck as a constant reminder of what had happened to her.

   Johnathan made quick notice of the accessory but internally duelled on whether denoting it would be insensitive... to her, "Not too much actually, but I'll run you up to speed," shrugged Johno, as he pointed to the wooden plague nail to the door, "From what we have gathered there are five notes of information that we are supposed to find here which will supposedly unlock a door hidden somewhere in this room," Johnathan's finger trace over the walls, the pine texture was as smooth as sandpaper.

   In response, Susana vehemently kicks the bed frame as an interruption to the boy's catchup, ardently rolling the blanket into a ball before pushing it off the bed. Susana didn't find the bed comfortable enough to sleep in, the mattress was simply too soft for her liking. Something more flat and and stable would be something more up her alley, she would rather have a firm bed over some marshmallow-soft one that unintentionally forces her to indefinitely fall into the depths of a giant metaphorical iceberg, with her body temperature melting through the hunk of glacier until she indefinitely drowns in the eternal ocean. Also, no spine support.

   FUCK, Susana thought to herself, reminding herself how she couldn't sleep on such a soft bed, let alone any bed in the first place and with such a crowd around her. When had she become a victim of public judgement? Pondering to herself, if I can't sleep, I'll find another way to annoy everyone. In an act of self-compromise, she settles for the piano stool made from leather, playfully sliding her fingers along the white tiles with the occasional rotation of a sharp black.

   Paranoid, "Is it not..." Keith struggled to find a way to convey his suspicion, "Isn't it strange that you always act so tense all the time Susana? Are you sure you aren't affiliated with Shawn in any way?" He claps his hands together, "Because it isn't really adding up to me."

Unbothered, Susana chuckles and moves on playing some of the piano keys, shifting to a melodic tone, "We aren't really gonna go through this again, are we?" her vocal croaks, shrieking in a high-pitched witch cackle, "Was that priority sucker punch to your throat not good enough for you? And you're telling me that you're already begging for another?"

   He held back the rage through a simple disapproving frown, his throat throbbed and burned up, praying for any aid. He clicked his tongue in mild disapproval but for the most part, Keith remained calm. Tsk. He too spoke calmly, slowing his sentence down, word by word so that even a goat could understand, "It's giving me all the more evidence to suspect you, someone with so much potential for violence."

    Susana doesn't reply, going at the piano keys instead, low to high in irritation but lacking any motivation to address the problem. Keith makes a proposition, "Fine, prove me why you aren't violent and why you couldn't have... c-couldn't have killed Catherine," his voice was shaking.