As soon as I arrived, I could sense that something was out of place. Shivers ran down my spine as I entered the hall and saw crimson red drops splattered over the kitchen counter.
I immediately called 911 and desperately began searching for my best friend, Chris. His panicked voice over the phone was all that I needed as proof that he was in big trouble.
I rushed to his home but I’m afraid that I was too late. I broke down on the wooden floor in tears. My mind was rewinding his voice, and my eyes were revisiting our moments together when the cops came dashing in.
I told them everything about the call, the blood, and the fact that Chris was missing. Someone got to him before I did. I last talked to him an hour ago. The police assumed the blood was from a knife accident and denied filing a missing person’s report before at least twenty-four hours.
Their demeanor made it pretty clear that they believed Chris to be a spoiled teenager and my actions to be an overreaction. But I could feel a pit in my stomach, something was undeniably wrong. I began rummaging through his house for clues that could lead me to him.
I went through all the rooms, looking through his cupboards but found nothing. I gasped in frustration and threw a stool and that was it. I realized that it was hollow. I picked the stool up, but there were no openings. I was baffled but had the gut instinct that I was on the right track. I rushed to the storeroom, brought a hammer, and broke the stool wide open.
I found many documents, fake passports, and notes but before I could examine anything. I heard a knock and was startled. It was coming from the floor. I followed the knock and it led me to a corner of the house. The knock became louder with every tap. I was shaking like a leaf. I slowly put my head on the floor and knocked on the source of the sound.
“Kate is it you,” Chris nervously said from underneath. I was overwhelmed to hear his voice. I thought I lost him forever.
“Oh my god, Chris, are you alright? How do I get you out of this damn floor,” I tearfully said.
“There’s a lever behind the shelf. Pull it and the floor above me will loosen up. Open it,” he replied.
I followed his orders and helped him get out. His hand was injured. “What’s going on Chris? Tell me at once,” I demanded.
“I honestly have no idea. Some people barged into my house. They looked like gang members. I called you once I realized that I was not alone in the house but they saw me and tortured me for information. They were convinced I knew something that would help them against some powerful lawyer hell-bent on convicting their leader for multiple homicides,” said Chris.
"How did you get inside the floor?"
“That’s a saferoom. I escaped and hid from them when they were busy ransacking my house,” Chris answered.
I was confused, unable to comprehend whether to believe Chris or not.
I chose to believe my best friend of ten years. I told him about the documents and fake passports I found.
Suddenly, his manner changed, a crooked smile took over and he said, “You made my job so much easier. Thanks Kate, I always knew you were intelligent. This is the key to it all. I must apologize, for I can’t risk leaving you alive now. You always have been a righteous prick, haven’t you?”
Chris shot me through the heart and left me for a cruel and bitter ending. I realized I was wrong in my judgment regarding Chris. However, he doesn’t know that my story won’t end in suffering, I managed to crawl and call for an ambulance.