The Whisperer

Chapter eight: Blood

                                Iana Grey suddenly sat up from bed.  If it wasn’t for that rather disturbing yell she heard from a weird, vivid dream, her sleep would’ve actually gone well.  She closed her eyes and saw again an outline of a monster with red eyes, within another flash of light; it was replaced with a stiffing pain by the shoulder.

                          “Aghh.” She groaned.  After a few minutes of stretching it out though, it finally disappeared into a residual, dull ache.

                           When Iana was finally able to gather her senses, she stared hard at the empty space beside her.  Hours ago, Lyla decided to sleep over in Iana’s house because it was late when they finished their project, and besides, it seemed practical enough since Iana’s abode was located near the school's premises compared to Lyla’s.  But where was she?

                           She checked her phone, but there were no text messages from her best friend, not even an acknowledging missed call of whatsoever.  It was only then that Iana decided to give a call.  After several failed attempts of calling her missing in action friend, Iana gave up with worry.  All the other line ever did was just continually ring.  Somehow, it was never Lyla to not tell Iana of her last minute activities.  Maybe she decided to go home after I slept.  She unsurely thought to herself.    

                           Now, it was silence.  Just complete silence.  Iana wondered if it was just her, or if every animal and living thing must be asleep. There were no sounds of a car honking from a distance, not even the crickets when it was their job to make noise during the evening lapse, or even the normal sound of a gust of wind passing through miles and miles of trees.  Weird.  She told herself, Iana then finally decided to get out of bed for a glass of cool water.

                            In a daze, she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, her mind still reeling—until now, the effects of the dream made her feel numb to this very moment.  “What is wrong with me?” Iana asked herself as she rubbed her shoulder.

                            “Good evening, Iana.”

                            Iana practically jumped back at the sound of a familiar voice she’s talked to before.  Oddly, it was Lyla, contentedly seated on the family’s couch.  The voice though, didn’t sound like her at all—if Iana was to clearly describe it, Lyla’s voice was smoother, mature and evened out with a primness Iana was all too familiar with. 

                         Lyla’s fingers lazily tapped her knee, and her lips were pulled into a slight impatient frown.  She faced her, her eyebrow arching in a way that Iana thought was unusual even for her best friend.

                            “What are you doing here, Lyla? You could’ve just slept in the guestroom if you didn’t like my room.”

                              She scowled.  “It took you long to wake, I expected you’d get up earlier than this.”

                            Iana nodded her head.  “Did we agree to wake up at three to finish our project?” She asked, now taking a sip of a cool glass of water.  “We finished it, remember?”

                  Lyla now stood up, and Iana would’ve thought that they’d have a more proper conversation if her best friend wasn’t clutching their kitchen knife with a somewhat sadistic look in her face.

                           Iana almost spit out the water she was gulping in.  “Woah!” She exclaimed.  “Put that thing down!”