Striking Blue

2. NOT...

Wait. The girl. Where's her body? I walked to our balcony and threw its doors open. As I bent over, I saw her. She was fifteen, just as much as me. Her dark hair spread across the stone ground. A halo of blood ringed her peace-stricken lifeless face. Her arms open as if to God. Her eyes, I shuddered. I recoiled as I saw her parents and her sister bent beside her maddened with despair. Another sound.

Who could it be? Her parents were down with her sister. No one else in their family. Then who was in their house? In one swift motion, I gathered all the courage I own, grabbed my house keys and shut the door behind me. I exhaled. Bad idea.

My steps felt heavy and reluctant. The corridor was dead, the dust shone silver in the moonlight. I turned to face the elevator, just as its display blinked off. The power of our building must have gone down.

I spun on my heel to face the staircase. Even the moonlight restrained from reaching there. Okay. I placed my steps lightly against the cement as my hands felt for the railings in pure darkness. Just one floor. Come on. My heartbeat louder than my footsteps and sleep far from being, I kept climbing and soon I could see moonlight again.

Now the sounds were louder. Dragging sounds, of something heavy, maybe scratching the tiles. I had forgotten how to breathe long ago.

I could see the landing of the next floor, my eyes finally adjusted to the lack of light. A maximum of two or three more steps. Suddenly, I tripped.

Falling over on my knees, I exhaled deeply to stifle my screams. The dragging stopped. I sat on the steps stiffly, holding my breath. A moment or two passed and the dragging resumed. I could finally breathe out. I rose slowly, stabling myself against the wall.

Now, I was out in the corridor on the 15th floor. I turned right to face their flat. The door was ajar. Strange.