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Escape: Part Three
In all honesty, I was curious now that I got a role as detective, but in a setting like this, was investigating really a good idea? In stories and movies, searching further and being curious about such things as a crime case (furthermore, a MURDER case) always led to disaster. I wasn't sure if I was willing to be that idiotic character that was too curious about something that was obviously stupid to be so curious about.
"First of all, why?" I asked, deciding not to beat around the bush and instead get straight to the point. "I get it – you and this mistress person think I'm intelligent and interesting, but why a murder case? Are there cameras around? Is this some sort of show to test people?" I crossed my arms and raised and eyebrow questioningly.
"No, this is real life, not a show," he said, sounding exasperated with my stubbornness, "and the reason it's a murder case is because it's the most difficult case to solve, and you are the smartest person we've found to play this game."
I groaned. "A game. This is just a game. Really? Solving a real-life murder case at a real-life crime scene? A game? What sort of–?"
"Enough questions," he said, cutting me off. He pulled a small notepad out of his pocket along with a pencil and held both items out to me. "Here are your tools. I'll be taking my leave now, unless you need something else?"
"A backpack," I said as he started walking away, "ziploc bags, a magnifying glass, gloves, possibly tweezers just in case, a flashlight, a matchbox, a couple candles, and a candle holder."
"Why would you need all of that?" he asked, looking genuinely confused about my list.
I stared at him with wide eyes, dumbfounded. "What if there's a room I need to search and it doesn't have light? How am I supposed to collect evidence without finger printing it or leaving any other marks that could interfere with helping? What am I supposed to carry everything in?"
He looked thoughtful. "I suppose you're right. Okay, I'll bring everything in five minutes. Meanwhile, prepare yourself. This case isn't for someone with a weak stomach or faint heart."
I rolled my eyes as he walked out. Why was he assigning a freshman in high school a murder case that would make someone quesy? What sort of challenges were there?
'Hopefully no other murder cases,' I thought as I sat down on the floor and looked at the notepad. 'And he was smart enough to give me a pencil instead of a pen but not even a flashlight? This is one strange society. At least mine doesn't casually send a minor to solve a terrible crime case without their consent.'
Thinking back on when I woke up in this room and opened the curtains, I rejistered something I hadn't realized was in the room with me. I turned slowly to look at the opposite side of the room.
The wall was slightly cracked and had strange yellow-orange stains, as if somebody had splattered juice or soda on it during a party or something. There was scribbles close to the floor, probably made by some little kids, which made me sad. This seemed to have been a happy place, possibly until this murder. But that wasn't what I was curious about. It was broken-down and crushed boxes lining the wall.
And they were stained with blood.
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"First of all, why?" I asked, deciding not to beat around the bush and instead get straight to the point. "I get it – you and this mistress person think I'm intelligent and interesting, but why a murder case? Are there cameras around? Is this some sort of show to test people?" I crossed my arms and raised and eyebrow questioningly.
"No, this is real life, not a show," he said, sounding exasperated with my stubbornness, "and the reason it's a murder case is because it's the most difficult case to solve, and you are the smartest person we've found to play this game."
I groaned. "A game. This is just a game. Really? Solving a real-life murder case at a real-life crime scene? A game? What sort of–?"
"Enough questions," he said, cutting me off. He pulled a small notepad out of his pocket along with a pencil and held both items out to me. "Here are your tools. I'll be taking my leave now, unless you need something else?"
"A backpack," I said as he started walking away, "ziploc bags, a magnifying glass, gloves, possibly tweezers just in case, a flashlight, a matchbox, a couple candles, and a candle holder."
"Why would you need all of that?" he asked, looking genuinely confused about my list.
I stared at him with wide eyes, dumbfounded. "What if there's a room I need to search and it doesn't have light? How am I supposed to collect evidence without finger printing it or leaving any other marks that could interfere with helping? What am I supposed to carry everything in?"
He looked thoughtful. "I suppose you're right. Okay, I'll bring everything in five minutes. Meanwhile, prepare yourself. This case isn't for someone with a weak stomach or faint heart."
I rolled my eyes as he walked out. Why was he assigning a freshman in high school a murder case that would make someone quesy? What sort of challenges were there?
'Hopefully no other murder cases,' I thought as I sat down on the floor and looked at the notepad. 'And he was smart enough to give me a pencil instead of a pen but not even a flashlight? This is one strange society. At least mine doesn't casually send a minor to solve a terrible crime case without their consent.'
Thinking back on when I woke up in this room and opened the curtains, I rejistered something I hadn't realized was in the room with me. I turned slowly to look at the opposite side of the room.
The wall was slightly cracked and had strange yellow-orange stains, as if somebody had splattered juice or soda on it during a party or something. There was scribbles close to the floor, probably made by some little kids, which made me sad. This seemed to have been a happy place, possibly until this murder. But that wasn't what I was curious about. It was broken-down and crushed boxes lining the wall.
And they were stained with blood.
© All Rights Reserved
