Inside the room, except for blood, there was nothing especially odd. The blood, and oh, a cell phone. My mother's auburn hair was now tinged with sweat and blood. She picked up the cell phone. It was on record mode. Only one recording, still switched on. My mother pressed the stop button. Then pressed play with all the might left in her. "WHERE SHOULD WE GO TO PAY OUR RESPECT? LAUGHTER. WAIT...HERE'S THE ADDRESS." then a beep and an address. Whose address was this? Whose blood? Whose voices in the recording? My mother knew none of the answers.'
She breathed. Copied the address and called a cab to take her there. She turned away, ready to leave. She saw a single blue contact lens, sidestepped it and left the flat.
My heart sank. No address. There were three parts to this mystery.....the murderer, the victims and how the people involved are related to each other. Of all this, only one I knew....even that I didn't know enough....
"CAN I PLEASE KNOW A LITTLE MORE ABOUT THIS PATIENT I WANT TO FUND?" I fumbled.
The receptionist smiled. Only one question spun around in my mind....How could this bald girl be related to my best friend?
YOU ARE READING
Striking Blue
غموض / إثارةNot only a story of a girl fighting through her reality but also a realization that most of us, if not all, would go through heaven and hell...for mystery, for solutions...and most importantly for the ones that we love. She lost her best friend to a...
