Worlds Apart

Chapter 4

C O H E R E N T • O B S C U R I T Y

Sep. 09 2020 02:00 CET

Room #03, The Port Inn

Daisha understood Owen's reactions of extreme discomfort now as she took a second sweep of the opening. That blue light... it was unnerving to say the least. It only showed up when she shined her flashlight into it, and it was everywhere. A veil of blue iridescence blocked her view of the other side, fluctuating ever so slightly as she shifted the light.

Lifting an arm, Daisha reached out to whatever existed on the other side of the wall. The moment the tips of her fingers entered the other side, she stopped. It felt like there was a canvas or some sort of fabric blocking the opening, which would explain the pitch darkness and possibly even the shimmering blue. She pushed her hand against it. It did not give way.

The alarm bells in her head hadn't stopped ringing. There was a perfectly logical explanation for the eerie blue reflection, right in front of her eyes, but Dsiha couldn't shake the feeling that this just was not normal.

She rummaged through her coat pockets for a penknife until her finger closed around the cold metal. Drawing it out, she flicked it open and made a careful, deft incision in the fabric— at least she was certain she did, for the canvas was unscathed. Frowning, she tried again, this time quicker and with more force, and she felt the fabric cave under the sharp blade, but when Daisha looked at it, there was no opening. She stared at it. The smooth black surface stared back unflinchingly at her. A famous phrase popped into her mind then, a phrase that had always fascinated her when she was a child – 'If you stare at the Abyss long enough the Abyss stares back at you.'

A cold shiver crawled down her spine. She turned away. No, this wasn't normal at all, but the possibilities the existence of this fabric opened up...

"A hole covered by impenetrable cloth. Now we know why we can't see anything on the other side, but that doesn't explain why it can't be cut, or how it's so stiff."

Daisha decided to halt her perusal of the cloth for the moment; it seemed she discovered all she could about it. Ruminating about it, staring into that blue-tinted darkness, would do neither her nor the case any good. The other aspects of this room could yield more solid clues of the happenings of that unfortunate night.

Daisha's eyes flitted across the surroundings of the hole. The missing plaster mystery would hopefully be solved when they visit the local police station. Elin said they had confirmed the blood was the victim's. "These scratches— is it possible for people to create them with their own nails?" she mused out loud.

"I do not know," Elin replied nonetheless, "but if it is, then it was not Regine. She never liked to keep long nails."

So, it was most likely the assailant, or assailants. It was hard to believe someone could make scratches as long and deep as those with fingernails, so perhaps it was made by something else. Like a weapon. Which brought with it another slew of questions, questions she was surprised she had not asked earlier, to her own chagrin.

"You said the room hasn't been touched, but what about the body? What was the cause of death?"

Elin hesitated. "They did not find it. The body."

Owen blinked, confounded. "Wait— how do you even know she's dead then? She could just be missing."

Elin frowned. "Does this look like a kidnapping?" she said, gesturing at the room and the blood and the baffling hole.

He huffed in response. "Why not? She could still be alive!"

"Owen's right," Daisha cut in before she could reply. "Without reliable evidence, we cannot say your cousin is dead. And that changes things. There is a possibility we could be dealing with a missing persons case instead of a murder, as we previously believed."

Elin didn't look ready to accept that possibility, which Daisha found strange. People would be ecstatic to find out that their family member is simply missing, and not dead (yet).

"I do not think she is alive. If the rest of my family died, why would she be the only one to simply go missing?"

Daisha sighed, a tinge of annoyance colouring her words. "I suppose you have a point. But the possibility still exists, and as of yet, we haven't uncovered any evidence of her death."

Her gaze wandered back to the room and the blood and the gaping hole, where it lingered, and a tiny, new detail caught her attention. She headed back towards the wall, and followed the trail of dried blood to the bed. She crouched down, taking a closer look at the floorboards. "There are two different types of markings."

Owen was at her side in an instant. "Blimey. You're right, as always." He pointed at the thinner ones, which were light lines carving the surface of the floor. "These here could easily have been made by anything, even fingernails, if you were resisting something." His finger moved to the other ones. "These look like they've been made by either a blade or a werewolf." He stood up, crossing his arms. "I guess we hadn't seen the smaller ones earlier cause they're pretty much invisible compared to the others."

"It's quite odd, actually." Daisha said suddenly, still scrutinising the floor.

"Huh?" Owen replied articulately.

"There was clearly a struggle here, but not at the police station. Why would someone bother with dragging a person across a room if they could kill them near instantaneously like they did with the police officer? The only indications we have of it being the same person — or persons — are the scratches and no signs of a break-in in either circumstance."

"Uh... not sure if we can classify this one as 'no signs of a break-in'," Owen said, gesturing to the room, but more specifically, at the mystifying hole with its unyielding fabric.

"I agree. We need to figure out what's on the other side of that. Perhaps a visit to the adjacent room — #05 — will shed some light on the situation."