The Night You Died

Chapter Two

Tuesday/June 25/10:30

I noticed I'm still in that small room. But now alone. Everyone is gone even the lights are off. The only cure to the darkness is a window beside me. I noticed my shirt is soaked with my sweat, and tears on my cheeks. I'm jiggling with this pen though. When did I stopped writing? I wiped my nose and cheeks and lean down to see my diary;

June 18, 2024, at 7:30 pm, Sajid Ali Waqar was found dead in the woods by local police. They claim someone shot him cold blooded at his right lower side of his chest. He died by lung puncher and over bleeding. He was 19 years old and a very good cricket player. He was a good brother, son and a very good friend. His family, specially his younger sister was mourning. He was her hero... He was our hero and justice should be done at any cost. His murderer should be arrested and announce death sentence at any cost...

I pack my stuff and head exit. Air conditioners of our hallway welcome me. I look around and find happy people. It's been a week, Shyam and Aysha aren't coming to the school. I didn't in the initial days, but my room's driving me crazy. I already have way more depression, can't handle anymore. I also can't have any other friends to kill time and distract my mind. Shyam says we should be together at this tragedy. He even came my house twice. But my reactions made him clear that I'm no good for company, talking to me is like talking to a corpse. It only smells and rottens, you can only disgust or feel pity.

It's my fault that I have abandoned him. But we were three never two. Shyam reminds me of him. My face reminds me of him everything related to him directly or indirectly through Shyam or me reminds of him. And I want all this gone because he can never come back. Why we stay?

Suddenly I feel knot in my stomach. I bend down as my pens dropped on the marble floor. I threw my bag and ran for the washroom. I kicked the door and rushed for the toilet. I immediately throw up splitting nothing but bile and yellowish liquids. My stomach hurts like someone has stabbed a burning construction rode right on my abdomen. My nose is flowing and eyes spilling tears. Unable to hold back, I cry out loud. Dashing my fists on the toilet seat, I cry like a child screaming and whipping.

"Sajid!" my screams echoing around the washroom. I lean my head as tears drip, "Sajid!"

I found myself in cafeteria. To be honest I don't know how I get here. Sometimes I don't what I'm doing and muscle memory brings me here and there. Two days ago I was at the town's park unknown how? Normally right? How about being in the park at 3 am? I use to scare getting out late. But now only I step out of my house is when the sun isn't stalking me. Of course except the school. Yeah I'm in the school cafeteria. Damnit I lost consciousness again. I can't focus on the present anymore. Can't look straight, what's going on in present time is stranger to me. The day Sajid died and everything was panicking and chaotic—Oh hell I'm doing this again. Rayan, cafeteria! Here! Now come to present!

Suddenly a tray dropped in front of me on my tablet. It almost made me jump and fall backwards. But I'm too numb to feel these reflexes anymore.

Haniya dropped down best me, sitting too uncomfortably close. Haniya Chana, a classmate and a friend. She's friend from the timeline where everyone was friend to me to a some degree. The introvert who is nice with everyone and everyone calls him friend, even the bullies. But it doesn't mean they don't bully.

Oh Damnit! When will I learn to remain in present? I looked at my left, maybe Haniya will help me staying here. This blonde, rounded face with too innocent eyes is looking at me like I'm the best sight she ever had. Is this curiousity or pity?

She supports her cheek on her pawl and stares me deep. Her eyes still glistening that same look, "How are you doing, Professor?" she speaks with such sweetness and calm and confidence and— a feeling that I call, Haniya. She has nick named me Professor. She calls Prof more often. She believes I am smart and nerd like the professor of Money Heist. I doubt I'm even average. Grades don't mean you are smart, but nerd, I can agree on that.

I looked down on my tray, nearly empty even though I haven't touched yet. I can't eat anymore, I am sure I may have lost five kilos so far and counting. "Fine." I say. But now I'm wondering has anyone ever said he's fine and mean it? I glance up at her, those eyes are so intense that they tension me. Her face doesn't show any response. It's almost like she didn't hear or pause in time.

"Prof," she says, "I want to help you." Can you kill me? I thought, almost opened my mouth and said it.

She leans forward, "My dad is the incharge of this case. He believes Sajid had no strong link outside school. Family doesn't have motive. He believes murder is one of the students."

I looked at her again. Not knowing what to say. I should say what I feel right. So I stayed numb as my heart.

"Student policy is too strict. They are kids, Police have to get a warrant to investigate any student. But the police can't directly ask any kid. They will ask their parents instead. In other words, impossible to get any confession. And that's all if we get any strong evidence to request a warrant." She keeps talking and I digest all with no reaction. I don't want to give any.

"This law binding possible will take years to find the murder. It's even possible that we may never catch the murder."

"Why are you telling me all this?" I ask watching cold hearted in her eyes. She doesn't look away, her stare is intense. In the end, I'm the one to look away.

She leans forward and puts her hand on my wrist, "I want to help you."

I instantly pull back my arm, "What now? You will find the murder?" I can't believe it. Haniya is always like this. She loves to play Sherlock. But this isn't game anymore, it's my friend's death for God's sake. I was angry. Furious even.

"Prof, I know it sounds stupid but—"

"Its beyond stupid Haniya, two teenagers trying to find a real life killer who happens to murder my friend. Tell me in what angle it looks sane?"

She silenced. Quite as statute, staring me with eyes that judge me crazy. She quickly blurt, "Think about this for a sec dumb, Police can't do anything." she does her usual quick head shaking, "They can't touch any student. And Sajid had no friends outside. He wasn't social in neighborhood, didn't had a social life at all besides school and friends. The police confirms it!" she was speaking too loud, I worry what others will think? Well a girl yelling at me as she was my African mom. Looks pretty embarrassing.

I go quite. Don't say a word. I no longer stay up on the conversation, I just don't want her to yell at me.

She finds the hurt in my eyes and her face narrows in concert. She signs and drops her head. Her beautiful blond hair falling down like a curtain hiding her guilty face. She pushes her hair back and looks deep in me again, "Remember Wajid?"