Worlds Apart

Chapter 3

L E A D S • T O • N O W H E R E

Sep. 09 2020 01:32 CET

Room #03, The Port Inn

The first thing Owen noticed was that the room was furnished exactly like the others - with armchairs and lamps and a bed with stark white sheets. It looked the furthest thing from a crime scene. But only for a moment. Because then he saw the streaks and the scratches and the indisputable signs of a struggle. And it looked like it had been one hell of a struggle.

"This is almost exactly how we found the room. Barely anything has been touched," Elin informed them in a subdued voice. "This is what we have to try and find her...just this."

"This sure does make it to near the top of my list of bizarre murder sites," Daisha muttered as she came to stand next to him, dark eyes scanning the room in front of her.

The sheets were stained a dull crimson, the covers were a tangled mess, falling off the bed, reaching out to the drawers, which were up against the wall across the room. The wooden floor was streaked with dried blood and scratches as if someone had been dragged forcefully off of the bed and towards the other side of the room - towards what was definitely the most perplexing thing in the hotel room.

On the wall above the drawers - where evidently a painting once hung considering the shattered glass and the frame and canvas strewn across the floor - there was a hole. A massive one. About the size of the painting, and definitely big enough for someone to climb through. The wallpaper was torn, long deep scratches carved into the wall, all directed towards the opening. The blood trail stopped at the hole.

Daisha moved deeper into the room. "The police, what exactly did they find?"

Elin was still standing near the hallway, as close to outside the room as possible while still keeping an eye on the hole, which she stared at with unadulterated dread. Without looking away, she answered, "They had the... blood analysed, and confirmed it was hers, and when i— it happened." Cracks formed in her composure, her previous nervous demeanor peeking through the gaps. Owen couldn't imagine what she was going through, standing in the room where it all happened, the last place her cousin was still smiling, still breathing, still alive.

"And when did it happen?" Daisha enquired, who was now scrutinising the wall. She seemed to take no notice of the effect the room had on Elin.

"The fourth — five days ago." She breathed in shakily, her unnaturally pale skin glistening under the lights.

"Are you feeling okay?" Owen asked tenderly. She finally looked away from the wall, green eyes shifting to him instead, then down to the floor. "Y—Yes," she said, nodding, then repeated herself more firmly. "Yes. I'm fine."

"The wallpaper's been torn away, but only a part of the plaster," Daisha mused, straightening up after checking the surface of the low chest of drawers, probably for bits of plaster. There is far less plaster and cement on this and on the floor than there should be for a hole this big."

She turned to Elin, "Is it possible that it was blown away or cleaned off?"

"It could not have been blown away," the blonde replied. "The windows were closed when we first came up here five days ago, and they have been closed since then. If they were cleaned up for analysis or simply taken by the police as evidence... we will have to go and talk to them directly."

Daisha nodded thoughtfully, glancing at the windows. "The windows were closed when you found her; what about the door?"

"It was locked."

She sighed. "Of course. A locked room mystery, but with a hole in the wall. We'll get to that in a minute." As she talked, Owen walked over to the hole, then peered inside. There was no wall in the middle, but he could see the cracked and broken edges of the wall under the torn wallpaper surrounding it. Daisha was right — they should have found more cement if someone had forced their way in from here.

"Does it lead to the other room?" Owen asked over his shoulder, trying to make out what was in the pitch darkness of the hole. A tiny voice at the back of his mind warned him that something was off.

"That is it," Elin's soft voice reached him. "It does not."

And then Owen realised what was wrong. There were no shapes in the darkness, not even faint outlines of furniture. In fact, the darkness was so thick and absolute that it seemed almost tangible. Even though they were in a small town which would have very little light pollution, that kind of darkness was not normal. It couldn't be normal no matter where you were. He backed away from the hole, a strange trepidation enveloping him. He was getting the feeling that something was watching him from that oppressive darkness, and slowly, slowly reaching for him, and if he stayed next to it for even a second longer, it would seize him.

"That hole... it leads to nowhere."

Now he knew why she had been looking at it like that.

"B— but that's not possible, right?" Owen swirled around to face Daisha, heart hammering in his chest.

She looked just as bewildered as he felt, as well as a little concerned. "Owen. Calm down."

The concern was for him. He never got distressed so easily, so maybe that reaction to him was justified. Owen closed his eyes, burying his face into his hands — nearly dropping his glasses in the process — and adamantly pushed away that horrible panic.

"Sorry," Owen mumbled, looking back up. He could feel his cheeks heating up from the onsetting embarrassment.

"I get that feeling, too," Elin said quietly, "when I look into it."

Daisha frowned, inspecting the hole again, shining a pocket flashlight into the dark. "That's odd. There is nothing here except for a peculiar blue light."

His eyes still rooted to that wretched hole, Owen muttered to himself — though it would've been audible to the other two in that heavy silence, "If it leads to nowhere, what's in nowhere?"