Till a Rain

By Vagdha S

He was there again. 

He was burying something again. Maybe trash−maybe not. Every single day I find him here, busy like this. He acts normal at work but here, he’s like a total psychopath. Whenever I return home, he is burying something that I don’t even want to know. Because it’s safer to not get involved. I observed him closely today. I’m now completely sure that it was not trash. Trash doesn’t have a head, two hands and legs, and blood.

I couldn’t help but stare at him. My feet were so grounded that my body couldn’t move. He kept digging up the soil. But now, his inhuman eyes met mine. He licked off the blood in his lips. He didn’t say hi but just glanced at me vengefully. My body started to move faster than I expected. I ran off to home, opened the door and shut it.

 First lock, second lock, third lock. Done. 

I took deep breaths to steady myself. I sighed. I think he didn’t follow me. Now I can just sleep peacefully.

**

My table was a mess. With meeting minutes, reports and other documents scattered over, I could sense that someone had gone through them. Someone was searching for something. Come on, at least do it neatly.

“Aaah, boss must have needed some documents. He was grinding hard yesterday.” A colleague of mine informed me. And yes, he was grinding hard yesterday. At the human dump site.

“That’s true. It was hard yesterday.” There he is. Smiling at me like nothing has ever happened. “Ira, may I have a word with you?” He was glancing in my direction and paced off to his cabin. A shiver rose in my throat. It was definitely him. He was burying bodies. And now, I’m following him to his cabin. Alone.

I sat down opposite him. He sighed. Why? Out of relief that his burial work went well? He cleared his throat. His body moved restlessly, as if he was preparing to talk to me. I waited and didn’t even mutter a word.

“Do you ever walk alone at night? Like when going back home?” His words startled me, but I didn’t show it. My mind just flashed back to yesterday, when he saw me. He knows.

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Do you live alone?” He waited for my answer, patiently. These questions make me want to throw up.  Why am I a victim of his crazy questions?

“Yes.” I gulped down the saliva formed in my mouth. My body was readying itself to jump out of his cabin. For a second, he looked at me with concern. He must have noticed the weird movements.

“Okay, I was just making sure the employees were doing fine. You know, especially because people were going missing these days. If you ever need any help, feel free to reach out.” He informed and directed me to get back to work.

**

I closed my front door and threw my bag on the couch. I sprawled onto the bed, drained from work. I dozed for a second but came back to my senses when I heard a sound. The sound of the creaking of my old cupboard. I faintly opened my eyes and narrowed to the direction.

There he was. Going through my things.

My breathing became unsteady. I gulped it down and accidently made a noise. His hands became motionless and his head turned to my bed. His frozen eyes on me. I told myself not to scream. I sprang out of my bed and took my phone near the headlamp. I looked at the call keypad and tried to type the numbers. 112. But my fingers were trembling, out of a fear of doing something sharp and dangerous. I took up the headlamp in my hand. I caught his eyes, staring at me with terror. His chilled blood turned his face pale. 

I paced towards him. He moved backwards. I moved again. He got closer to the balcony. He guarded himself with his hands up in the air. Before he moves, I−I’ll push him. Or he’ll kill me. I didn’t give it any second-thought. 

I pushed him. Hard enough for him to bounce off from the balcony and onto the hard concrete ground. His head was smashed against the ground, and blood poured down from his body. He was definitely dead. 

I again took up my phone and dialled 112, told them that a man intruded my home and is now dead. Even before I could take a relief, the police and other authorities came hurriedly. They asked me to calm down, which I am. Then an officer came up to me and asked how he behaved in office.

“He was cold, especially to me. He always gave me long tasks which lasted till midnight. When I walk home after work, he always follows me and even asks me weird questions the next day, like if I walk alone or live alone. And when I saw him tonight at my house, I−I was terrified, sir. I didn’t have any choice.” I burst into tears. The officer consoled me, and said that this can be concluded as an act of self-defense. 

Some officers ruffled through the same old cupboard. They only found normal things− clothes, shoes and ornaments. The blue dress in the corner was soaked in blood earlier but thank God, the detergent worked really well. The white shoes at the bottom still had the soil from the ground stuck on their sides. It was all because the girl was moving too much, and I had to work hard to suffocate her. That was the time he saw me. He was trembling with shock after he realised what I was burying wasn't trash but a body. I didn’t do much, just licked off the blood in my lips and glanced at him until I blanked out. Now, he is dead. 

An officer came up to me and appreciated my courage. The crowd in my house slowly vanished. I turned on the TV and saw the news. It was about him. A cold, cruel man who tried to kill a poor, innocent girl, but that girl defended herself and proved her courage. Then came the next story−the series of missing cases over the last month. 

“We think the dead man might be the culprit for these too, as the missing people are known to him. The investigation is going on and …” I switched it off. I sipped my coffee and walked to the balcony. 

The stain of blood was still there. 

Murders always leave a mark. Till a rain.

By Vagdha S