Cistus: I will die tomorrow

540 20 13
                                    

Let me introduce my friends, Cistuses, a bunch of interesting psychopaths.

They are beautiful really: pink and white fluffy petals with distinct bloody marks in the center like a geisha's red lips. Don't fall for their beauty though, they will drag you into their hellfire if you get too close.

They live in a Mediterranean region, where it is characterized by a dry hot summer. If the temperature reaches over 35 degrees celsius, cistuses spew flammable chemicals in the air for suicide purposes. The chemical causes spontaneous combustion that burns not only cistuses themselves but other plants living around them.

Before this mind-blowing suicide attempt, cistuses spread their flame-resistant seeds. The fire clears the surrounding region so that the seeds can grow in abundant sunlight and rich soil. Sometimes, the fire is enough to burn the entire forest down.

This is why cistuses earned their ominous flower meaning of "I will die tomorrow."

Pretty fascinating, huh?

***

After erasing Justin out of his phone, Brett has managed to sleep for several hours more and has woken up from blinding sunlight, too bright for his own mood. The sun was high up. Coffee was brewing. Music was playing. Justin was gone.

The reality felt like a dream that Brett had no idea how to escape from. His phone rang from the pillow just as Brett tried to creep into his sheet again. It was Eddy.

"Hello?"

There was only deafening silence from the other side.

"Hello? Eddy?" Brett asked again, worried.

The next thing Brett heard made him drop the phone to the floor. Brett stared at the shattered phone screen, unmoving. The vulnerable voice of Eddy from the phone was real, yet unreal.

"Brett, I got a call from the police station today. Someone broke into Hannah's house last night and Hannah....she's.......they found her body."

Brett broke out of his trance when he heard a shaky sigh of Eddy slipping from the phone. What on earth has happened last night after Brett returned home?

Brett picked up the phone again with trembling hands.

"Where are you?" Brett asked, trying to control his breathing.

"At home. Some police officers are here, investigating."

"Did they find out who killed her and why?"

"No."

And Brett ran outside, his mind whitening when he heard Eddy whisper -

"Brett, they think I killed her."

***

"Mr. Chen, we heard a report from the neighbor that they heard a loud sound of fighting two days ago at your girlfriend's house, the day you broke up. The door handle was broken and we found that Ms. Hannah was trying to replace the lock. Unfortunately, before that, the criminal has entered her house last night and has assaulted her during her sleep."

Eddy was staring at his feet, frozen.

"The perpetrator did not only kill her with a sharp object but has taken her right hand as if taking a souvenir. Does that ring any bell?"

"No," Eddy croaked out, his eyes glazed.

"Could you please tell me what you were doing yesterday? Is there anyone who can prove your location during that time?" One of the police officers picked up the empty bottle of liquor beside the couch with a skeptical look.

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