Suspense Short Story – Blood Vessel (Killer Jeans – Part 3)
Photo credit: chelle from morguefile.com
Shivani was shaken. She had just hung up on Roohi’s mum who had sobbed for nearly twenty minutes over the loss of her only daughter. The police had informed Roohi’s distraught parents of the crimes she had committed that night and the unavoidable circumstances of her tragic death. Aunty would not believe any of it; she was sure her daughter had been framed. Uncle tried to pacify her saying there was no use in further conjecture. This infuriated her even more and she hurled a few medium-level insults at him dissing his fatherhood.
Shivani was exhausted but couldn’t think of polite ways to hang up, so she just grunted weak affirmations at regular intervals. “I will not rest in peace until my daughter gets justice!” swore Aunty, before finally slamming the phone down on Shivani. Instead of taking offence, she was actually quite relieved. She saw the pun in Aunty’s last declaration and wanted to giggle but burst into tears instead.
I should have burnt those jeans, she thought. How could I have been so careless! Look at what has happened because of me: Mr. Verma has lost a wife (and a dog), the Shahs have lost their only daughter and I have lost a close friend. A policeman has lost his life too. How could anybody have stood a chance? I should have known from the horrific incident that had happened to me. But then again, how should I have anticipated all this two days ago? What I wouldn’t give to go back in time! I’d never set foot in that store!
It was nearly 5am, but Shivani just couldn’t sleep. The horrors of the past forty eight hours just wouldn’t leave her alone. And suddenly there was somebody at the door, ringing the bell so frantically one would think they were either dying, or had to use the toilet urgently. Shivani had already resigned to her fate, she knew the interrogations would come. She wasn’t expecting them to come so soon and at this unearthly hour, but nothing surprised her after the shocking events she had witnessed recently.
Surprises, both good and bad, have a funny way of showing up when you have no idea they’re sneaking up you. That’s the beauty or ugliness of surprises, which Shivani soon discovered as Roohi barged into her house, dressed in those dreaded jeans and what looked like a lab coat.
An impossibly large number of mixed emotions gripped Shivani as the friend whose loss she had been mourning was standing in her living room, looking like a fashion disaster, but very much alive. After about five seconds of immense turmoil, curiosity overcame fear, guilt, and an assortment of weaker emotions. She found her voice and asked Roohi, “What happened to you!?”
Roohi told her everything she could remember, from the time Shivani had left her in search of the toilet at the Verma’s to when she woke up without preamble in the morgue.
Fortunately for Roohi, both the vault and the main door were slightly ajar, so she managed to pry them open and run for her life, quite literally. Everyone on duty was thankfully asleep and oblivious to this runaway corpse. She was happy to find her shoes and jeans, neatly folded and packaged as Evidence, lying on a table at one corner of the autopsy room. Her top and underwear were covered in large blotches of dried blood, presumably her own. So she pushed them aside and picked up one of the lab coats from the table on the other side of the huge basin next to this one. She put these on and used the emergency exit, which was surprisingly not wired.
She had no money, so she had to walk to the only place she could go to, which was Shivani’s house. It took her quite a while to get there.
“I’m so tired I could die”, said Roohi in a voice that had aged overnight, and then added, “Again…” as an afterthought. Shivani grabbed this opportunity and said, “Why don’t you take a nice, long shower? I’ll get you towels and some fresh clothes.” She sprang up to make these arrangements and slowly led Roohi into the bathroom, careful not to set something off in her again. Once the door was shut behind her, she realized she had been holding her breath for a long time and let it out in a loud sigh.
After about half an hour, Roohi stepped out of the bathroom, hair and body wrapped in towels. Her face showed disbelief and her eyes were round with shock. “Shivani!” she shrieked and woke the poor girl who was finally catching a few winks.
“I can’t find the gunshot wound!”
“What!? That’s not possible. Come here, let me take a look.”
Roohi was inspected for nearly a minute, after which Shivani’s eyes were as round as her own. She opened her mouth several times to say something, but nothing intelligible would come out. Finally it was Roohi who hesitantly asked, “Am I… Am I… Immortal…?”
Maybe now is a good time to tell her my theory, thought Shivani, and told her friend the bizarre incident from the night of their double date. Roohi was so angry she couldn’t speak. “I’m sorry, Roohi, I should never have given those jeans to you”, said Shivani, laden with so much guilt, it created a small lump in her throat.
“You’re sorry!? You’re SORRY!! Because of your little secret, I’m a DEAD PERSON! And I’m walking, and talking, and breathing, while I should have been dead for doing all the things you KNEW I was going to do! And you’re SORRY!” exploded Roohi.
“I didn’t know this was going to happen, Roohi!” she said as she tried to hug her, but Roohi just slapped her hands off saying, “Don’t come near me, you liar!”
“I’m not lying. I’ll come with you to the police, the doctors, the courts, the Verma’s, and even God, if I have to, but I’ll make this up to you, I promise!”
“Hmph! I’m a criminal, a raging lunatic! And YOU are going to make it up to me. Just shut up and don’t talk to me.”
Shivani was used to such theatrics from Roohi so instead of obeying, she harshly said, “Well, you don’t have a choice. You’re immortal, and we don’t know why, but I suspect those jeans have something to do with it. We have to find out!”
Roohi, though hurt, saw sense in those words and did not argue any further. “Don’t even think of hugging me again” is all she said.
Shivani ignored this and got the jeans out from where Roohi had left them, on the bathroom floor. “Take these and go into the bedroom. I’m going to lock you in with those jeans and this knife”, she said as she got a small paring knife from the drawer under the gas range and handed it to Roohi.
“Why are you going to lock me up?”
“Because I’m scared of you! Don’t ask rubbish questions. Once I lock you in, I want you to make a small cut on your arm. Don’t get too dramatic and slash your wrists, okay? I’m going to lock this cubby hole (pointing to the little window in the wall separating the two rooms) from this side and watch you through the glass. Just do whatever I say.”
Roohi had plenty more rubbish questions to ask, but she kept them to herself and meekly did as she was told. After she was locked in, she cried out to Shivani, “But I’m scared to cut!”
“You survived a gunshot! And you’re scared to make a small cut? Roohi, come on, hurry up!”
That was all the condescension she needed. Shutting her eyes tight, Roohi made a rather deep gash on the upper side of her elbow. She opened her eyes and nearly passed out when she saw the blood oozing out. “What do I do next, Shivani?” she asked desperately.
“Just wait! If you can’t look, look away, but hold your arm up so I can see.”
“Good idea!” said Roohi and shut her eyes again, while Shivani sat patiently waiting for what she just knew was going to happen.
Ten minutes later she said, “Roohi, open your eyes!”
“Unbelievable!” said Roohi as she rubbed her arm where she had made the ghastly cut less than fifteen minutes ago. There was not a single trace of it. “What does this mean?!” she asked, suddenly struck with panic.
“You’re practically a blood ‘vessel’, that’s what it means.” said Shivani excitedly.
***
(to be continued)
