Suicide Epidemic

I

Jessica's eyes skimmed through the daily newspaper while she sipped her morning coffee. Disgusted at the high dose of drama, gossips, and glamor, she was about to put down the paper when her eyes caught an article about a suicide with a weird suicidal note.

"Many are the victims she has brought down; / her slain are a mighty throng. / Her house is a highway to the grave, / leading down to the chambers of death"

The article went on to explain that the paramedics had also found burn marks on her chest. The police had written it off as another one of frequent suicides happening in the city. The aspiring investigative journalist in her couldn't leave it as it is. As a journalist she is still nobody, writing fillers and an occasional column about the dog shows or charity events conducted to amuse the society ladies of the ton. When she passed out from one of the reputed colleges, she hoped to make it big in the media industry. Of chasing a story and the awards that would follow. All those remained just that, Dreams! She was nowhere closer to living her dream now than when she started 3 years ago. Something tugged at her heart regarding this article, nudging her to delve deeper. Maybe this would kick start her career.

With a sudden sense of excitement, she re-read the article searching for clues. The first thing that stroked her curiosity was the burn marks. On closer examination of the photo printed on the newspaper, she could make out something that looked like some sort of symbol. A cult? Was the victim a member of any cult? Questions kept swirling in her mind. She had heard rumors about secret societies conducting secret meetings underground complete with their own set of weird ceremonies. Could they be religious fanatics? The weird suicide note strengthened her belief. Energized, she read on. Rest of the article had nothing interesting to offer. The cause of death was an injury to head and blood loss when she jumped off the balcony of her home situated on the 42nd floor. She was a widow leading a simple and inconspicuous life working at the bank nearby. The neighbors' statement that she had seemed disturbed for last few days, coupled with the suicide note led the police to deduce and confirm that the death was a suicide.

All the facts point that the lady committed suicide. Her doors and windows were closed shut. There was no sign of forced entry. And to top it all, the suicide note. There was no contest; Jessica was with police on the suicide part. What interested her was the burn marks. If she can uncover the secret society and bring it all out in public, it will be the scoop of the century. Her key to success! The suicide victim looks a like simpleton, with her skills and the few shady contacts that she had gained during her stint as a journalist, she will be able to dig into her whereabouts and scout for information with little to no effort. A sly smile broke out on her face when she imagined her article taking the city by storm. Oh! How she hoped that she can catch some high profile members of society as part of this cult. Better yet, they should be caught dancing around the fire, chanting versus stark naked. That would be huge!

Ever the systematic person, she took out her notepad and began jotting down facts that she is aware of and things to do. The only facts that she is aware of right now are that the victim, Monica Andrews, aged 37 was a widow, Her husband died 6 years ago in a road accident. No children. Topmost in her mind is verifying the police report and digging for the motive behind the suicide. Background checks on Monica, the victim to find out about her religious inclinations, groups and organizations that she frequented comes next in line of her priority. A clear picture of the burn marks will definitely aid in deciphering the cult symbol, better yet! With a push in right direction, she might even be able to catch a glimpse of the dead body.

With the checklist in place, she stopped over at the local police station that handled the case. Her spirits dampened when the police were less than obliging to divulge information. Even when her flashy journalist badge couldn't gain access, she had to take out her final weapon, the key that opens all doors. Few grands in the deputy's pocket led her to the mortuary where the body was kept. When the guard moved away, she was lucky enough to take a clear photo of the burn mark.