Hidden Whispers

m i k a e l a // 7

Trying to calm my body down in the hot steaming water, I questioned myself - What did I get into?

There was a death of a woman and her grandmother believed it was due to her husband. The death was similar to yours. Sasha knew someone who looked like you. You're supposed to be dead. And now, Debbie, who came from nowhere, says that she knows the killer.

As if everything is so damn easy.

Yesterday, I dropped by Jake's house. Fayne, Jake's nephew looked at me coldly while passing me. She was a strong and quiet kid according to Jake, but there was something off about her. It wasn't anything in particular, but her whole presence threatened me. I didn't know why.

The human mind is always curious to know something it doesn't know. But how does the human mind come to know that it doesn't know something?

It looks into your brain cells, the tiny pieces of memories that collapse and connect with each other, and once no fragment meets the required, it declares that it is unable.

Taking a sip out of the Cabernet wine filled shot-glass, I relaxed.

Jake looked at me yesterday with stone cold eyes. His body seemed relaxed, but his face told a different story.

"She killed herself. At least that's what the police told. I still can't process it," Jake said with an undeniable sadness across his face, "There is a reason which explains why she did this, but still everything is blurry."

That's what bugged me too. It couldn't have been a suicide. If it was, I would have calmed myself. But my heart thumped.

"And what was the reason?" I asked.

Jake got up from his seat and rested his hands on the sink, his back muscles flexing. "Sasha loved kids. She absolutely cherished the warm softness of their skin. But she was scared of pregnancy. Called herself childish, but it was something she was scared of. So, immediately after we got married, we adopted a girl. Two years later, a boy. I understood her. Then.." he trailed off, burying his face on his hands.

"Then?" I asked, eager.

"Then I found out prescriptions. Tablets, and all. The day before she died. She went out that day, and while cleaning, I found them. She was infertile, Mike. Five years, she kept it hidden from me. When Sasha came home, I demanded an answer. She broke down and started screaming. And.. I slapped her. I am so low, Mike. So fucking low."

I took in a gasp of air. She killed herself because she was infertile and he found it out? It was her duty to tell it to Jake.

The memories whirled back to my head as the puff of steam from the bath touched me. The hot water enveloping my body felt good.

Wrapping a towel around me, I got out of the bathtub and advanced to my room. Emma stood at the entrance to my room.

"Debbie's sitting outside. Needs to talk to you about something. Get dressed," she motioned to the ironed sweater and slacks.

"Yes ma'am. You're still strict ain't you?" I pressed her nose.

Laughing slightly and shaking her head, she moved away. Still the same.

Dressing up, I walked straight to the living room. In the warm and comfy room, a black haired girl sat with a tensed face.

"What's up, Debbie? Been 10 years, huh?" I asked, trying to light up her mood.

"Huh? Oh yes. You look good, Mikaela." She managed.

"You texted something to me. Want to talk about that?" I sat beside her.

"What? What did I text you?" Debbie looked at me. "I just came here to talk about Sasha. I got some news."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "You told me you know that it was a homicide case. And it was killer. You told that you knew who it was."

"Hey, no! I was just kidding! You think I was serious?" She laughed nervously. There was something off about her.

Her eyes drifted off to my hands, and my face. She was hiding something. Her fingers started shaking.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes, why won't I? Um so I came here to tell you something about the case. According to the Forensic Department, it was confirmed as a suicide."

I sat up. "How are they sure?"

"Well, she used a long rope. That defines that she was in a hurry. Her neck broke because of that. Next, there were tight marks on her neck. Something that tells us that she tightened the rope way harder than it should have. Also, when one is hanged, she tries to loosen the rope - That's psychology. Leading to nail marks. She didn't have any. Her death was purely her own choice, but strangely she was hurrying."

I slowly took it in. Sighing, I asked, " And how do you know all this?"

"My husband is in the police. He informed," Debbie stated. Her voice broke, and she coughed slightly.

"Water?" I offered.

"No, I'm perfectly fine. I need to go. Just wanted to tell this to you as you kind of came down here to look into this case."

My eyes shot up and met her's. "Why do you think so?" I tried to calm down, but I was pretty sure I told everyone that I came to Glenville just to catch up.

"Well, that's what Noah stated, at least, looking into you. 10 years of no sign and then coming back right when a death occurs? That's clue right there," she shrugged.

"Well, you're mistaken. I simply came here to meet my mom as she is sick. I'm sorry but your Noah seemingly gave wrong information," I declined immediately.

"Noah never does," she stood up and advanced to the door, "Anyways, think that it'll help you investigate. See you later."

My eyebrows stuck together as she left. Who was she and what did she do with little old Debbie?

And who in Glenville's name was Noah?

Debbie Dexter looked like she was lying. She came in and declined something she wrote about a few hours ago, changing it to a "joke". That could not have been her.

Although if her words were true, I would have been happier than anyone else. No murder. No "history repeating itself". I could finally leave this shitty place and go back to work.

I'd call the Forensic Department once. Just to check. Nothing important, all I needed was a verification.

Lying my back on the sofa, I relaxed my nerves. Everything is okay, Mikaela Whittaker. You're okay.

___________

The walk to the market was soothing. I got fresh air. It was verified that Sasha committed suicide.

I didn't care if my enthusiasm reached a completely different realm. I was happy.

The bag was filled with an exquisite old Merlot and a few munchies. Christmas was a week away and there were no signs of festivity. I was definitely going back to Manhattan.

Suddenly, I heard sirens. Coming from somewhere close to my house.

Increasing my pace, I quickened towards the sound. And found myself outside Debbie's residence.

A huge crowd of people surrounded the area. Beside, an ambulance stood, waiting. Pushing people aside, I looked in front and my soul ripped into pieces. In front of me was a sight I'd never forget.

Debbie was lying face down on the pile of snow, her head bleeding. The police could be heard talking about it being an accident. My hand started shaking and bag of wine fell on the parchment, the red wine dripping like splattered blood. Calm down. Accident.

I bent down to pick up the bag, and suddenly a chit of paper came out. Reading it, I could not breathe.

I know what you did. I know everything. You're not alone.

_____________

♡