It Will Always Be A Game

06: Lost

The beauty of darkness is how it lets you see

I stare at it. I stare at it for a whole minute. My eyes keep going over the words a thousand times, my heart is thumping violently against my ribcage. My hands keep shivering more and more as I read it again and again. My mind goes back to last night. I bring the letter closer.

It's blood.
Again.

My blood begins to trickle over the words as the paper slowly absorbs it.

It's the same person.

I hastily fold it and slip it into my pocket before heading down the hall.
I grab my phone from the counter and make sure no one's looking at me. Or at my hand. It's bleeding. I can't go out like this with everyone staring at me.

My shirt's now stained with blood. I need to change it.

I slip out of the hallway and head to the tenth level, where my clothes are kept in the room designated for staff only. No one uses it except me. Probably because it's too far. And creepy. 

I enter the elevator and press the tenth-floor button, impatiently waiting for it to arrive. There's a woman with me. She brings her little girl closer when she stares at my face in fear and notices the blood stains on my white shirt. I'm so shaky and anxious right now that I don't even give a damn. She probably thinks I just killed someone. But I'm too preoccupied with clinging to the strange letter in my pocket.

I slowly walk through the empty halls, tightly clutching the pocketknife in my pocket. I've never felt scared or nervous here but today, it felt different. This place looks perfect for someone to commit a crime. Murder, even. Because people barely come here since it's coated in dirt, smells weird and is temporarily closed. That's basically an invitation to serial killers.

I don't know why they never choose to work on this floor.

I enter the staff-only room and pray to God I'm lucky enough to find a first aid kit. I hastily throw things here and there, thanking God aloud when my eyes discover the kit.

I proceed to the main restroom and turn on the water, letting all the blood drain into the sink. I grab a handful of tissue paper and let all blood soak through.

I hate locked doors I hate locked rooms I hate it when I lose control.

I'm scared of myself.

But no one will ever believe me if I say it out loud.

More and more blood seeps out. Red tissues had piled up on the counter. My hands are all crimson and covered in blood. I pull out a piece of gauze and hastily wrap it around my hand. I bring my left hand to my head, dragging my fingers aggressively across my hair, trying to calm myself. After changing into my casual clothes, I pull the letter from my bloody pockets and tuck it into the pocket of my pants. It's all mixed with mine and someone else's blood. I don't know what's more horrifying than that.

I take a plastic bag from the room and place my bloodied garments inside, making sure to tie it tightly. Entering the elevator and pressing the ground level, I send a text to Azrah.

"Okay, give me five minutes I'll be right there. Yousef's already waiting."

I exit the elevator and into the main lobby. This area is sufficiently chilly. I feel like I'm locked in a refrigerator. I spot Azrah's brother near the entrance. He's walking around hastily, talking to himself...

Goosebumps rise on my arms and I wrap my hands around them. I approach him and say hello. His expression shifts as he turns to face me.

"Alyssa! You're- you're Aza's friend right, nice to meet you, I'm Yousef!" He gives me a warm smile.