John suddenly found everything to be quite peaceful and calm.
“Hey, you can take off the bandana now” John heard Christopher’s vicious, irritated voice command.
John felt the bandana being removed from his eyes. The bandana was wet, as his anger and helplessness was erupted out in the form of tears. As the bandana was removed, he saw the scene in front of him. His face frowned, brows furrowed and his eyes became red. Lying before him was …Nancy’s nude body. Her neck was hanging over to one side. Her eyes were open and white. She was dead. He tried hard to release himself and help her when, suddenly, something hit him on the head and he lost consciousness. When John eventually gained consciousness, he found that he was no longer tied up. However, Nancy’s dead body was gone. He immediately got up and looked around panicking. Was this some horrible dream? He wished it was. Yet how it could be?
“Nancy” he called out loudly, though he knew that there wouldn’t be any response.
His head was still hurting from where he was struck. He checked with his hand. Looking at his fingers, they were completely covered with blood. Now he was sure whatever he had experienced was not a dream. Immediately, he bolted out to search for her. John looked around frantically again, running until he reached the end of the corridor. He went to the elevator and pressed the down button; he took one last look around. The door opened and he entered the elevator. Where the hell did they go? Where is Nancy’s body? Or have they disposed off it? He went out of the hotel and ran around ferociously. There was darkness everywhere, barely anybody on the road. On the corner, he saw a taxi driver standing leisurely. He may know something about them, John thought. He went over to the taxi driver and enquired. The taxi driver gestured something towards the left. He then got into the taxi and told the taxi driver to drive. The taxi drove off. However, they found nothing as the streets were still empty. Disappointed, John came back and entered the room and locked the door from inside. He looked at the bed. The bed sheet was wrinkled. What should I do now, he pondered? Shall I go to the police? But they might arrest me and file a charge against me for this murder. In fact, it’s me who is responsible for all of this. Not only murder but also rape. He sat on the corner of the bed; hiding his face in his knees, he started sobbing. Lifting his head up to breathe, a paper slip lying on the floor caught John’s attention. He got up and wiped his tears with his sleeves. Paper slip…We never had such a paper slip, he thought. John picked up the slip. It was the same slip on which Paul has written the playing card scores against each of their names. He turned over the slip. There was some number written on the reverse side which appeared to be a mobile number. He got up resolutely.