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What Happened Last Night?
#WritcoStoryPrompt43
The scandal could ring the death of his career. The naked woman in his bed lay with unseeing eyes staring at him. He stood over her with a knife in his hand and no memory of who she was or why he had killed her...
Who was this woman in his bed, and why was she dead? His head was dizzy, mind unable to remember anything about the night before. He was a well known actor, a scandal like this would cost him not only his career, but his life as well.
He walks to a chair right beside the bed and takes a seat, his mind still trying to figure out the mystery laying before him. All he remembers is having a few drinks with some friends at a club, not even the memory of meeting this woman was in his mind. Who then could she be, and why was she in his bed in the first place?
He takes a look at her pale face, wondering if she looked familiar, but all he could see was a once beautiful woman full of life.
He stands up and begins to pace the room, panic now settling in. Even if he was not the killer of this woman, how could he prove his innocence when not even his mind is on his side.
Now was not the time for a scandal, he had a big movie coming up and work began that week.
Actually work began today now that he thought about it. In less than 6 hours, he would be called for a reading session with his fellow co-stars. How would he explain that there is a dead body in his home and now he is preoccupied.
The shrill sound of his ringtone brings him out of his thoughts. "Hello, William Holt speaking."
"William, glad to hear from you. last night was bit too crazy for everyone, especially after meeting that girl you took home."
"What do you mean especially after meeting her? What exactly happened last night?"
"Oh you don't remember? We had a couple of drinks to celebrate your new movie role. A group of ladies came over to our table, one in particular eyeing you like a piece of meat. We had fun with them till things got a bit dazy. Seems like they drugged our drinks. The rest of us managed to get home on our own but you my brother, you were an entirely different case. The lady you took home had to help you into your car and drove you to your place. Hope you're good though, cause I wouldn't trust the way she had her eyes set on you the entire night."
William couldn't hear a single thing the voice on the phone said, his blood had run cold and his mind was in overdrive. In the blurry background, the voice asks if he was alright, but he was far from it.
He ends the call and slumps to the floor. Did he really kill this woman? Was everything that person over the phone said true? Was he a murderer?
He covers his face with his hands and screams into them, tears now freely rolling down his cheeks.
No matter how he thought about it, his life and career would be over the minute anyone found out about this.
Wiping his tears, he gets up and begins to move the body off the bed. He runs to his closet and finds an old blanket. He wraps the body in the blanket and racks his brain for ideas on how to dispose of it.
For a split second, he thinks of calling the police and letting them take care of the situation, but seeing as how everything points to him being the killer, he rather not take that chance.
A sick idea pops into his head and he dreads how he could even think of such. On the roof of his building is an old chute, no one knew of it and the few who did never went there. It was the perfect place to hide a body. But the smell would attract people to it and sooner or later he would be caught. He had to think of something else.
What about his pool? He had two of them, no one would question him if he closed off one. Plus he rarely had visitors over. He thought of draining his pool, making a hole at the bottom and stuffing the body in there. He would cover up the whole with some cement and paint it back up then fill the pool up with water once again. That seemed like a much better idea.
For the rest of the morning, he found all the equipments he needed and got to work. By late afternoon he had successfully hidden the body in his pool. Still shaken by the events of the night before and the day, he sat on the floor and tried to collect his thoughts. In an hour he would be heading to work, in an hour he would have to act like his day was normal. In an hour he would be shoved back into his career, with no one knowing a dead body lies underneath his pool.
He walks over to his bathroom and gets ready for work. His phone rings once again and this time it's his manager calling. "You're needed at the studio in thirty minutes. Will you be going there on your own or should I come pick you up?"
"I will be heading there on my own Ian, don't worry about me. I'll see you there."
He cuts the call before his manager can utter a goodbye. His hands are still shaking by the time he gets to his car. Driving over to the studio, his mind still tries to replay the events of last night. He tries to figure out what actually happened between himself and the now dead woman, what could have made him kill her?
As much as he would love to find the answers he desperately needed, his career was what was important right now. He could only hope that no one asked of the woman's whereabouts; because how could he explain her body laying 3 feet deep underneath his pool?
© Mary Jeje A
The scandal could ring the death of his career. The naked woman in his bed lay with unseeing eyes staring at him. He stood over her with a knife in his hand and no memory of who she was or why he had killed her...
Who was this woman in his bed, and why was she dead? His head was dizzy, mind unable to remember anything about the night before. He was a well known actor, a scandal like this would cost him not only his career, but his life as well.
He walks to a chair right beside the bed and takes a seat, his mind still trying to figure out the mystery laying before him. All he remembers is having a few drinks with some friends at a club, not even the memory of meeting this woman was in his mind. Who then could she be, and why was she in his bed in the first place?
He takes a look at her pale face, wondering if she looked familiar, but all he could see was a once beautiful woman full of life.
He stands up and begins to pace the room, panic now settling in. Even if he was not the killer of this woman, how could he prove his innocence when not even his mind is on his side.
Now was not the time for a scandal, he had a big movie coming up and work began that week.
Actually work began today now that he thought about it. In less than 6 hours, he would be called for a reading session with his fellow co-stars. How would he explain that there is a dead body in his home and now he is preoccupied.
The shrill sound of his ringtone brings him out of his thoughts. "Hello, William Holt speaking."
"William, glad to hear from you. last night was bit too crazy for everyone, especially after meeting that girl you took home."
"What do you mean especially after meeting her? What exactly happened last night?"
"Oh you don't remember? We had a couple of drinks to celebrate your new movie role. A group of ladies came over to our table, one in particular eyeing you like a piece of meat. We had fun with them till things got a bit dazy. Seems like they drugged our drinks. The rest of us managed to get home on our own but you my brother, you were an entirely different case. The lady you took home had to help you into your car and drove you to your place. Hope you're good though, cause I wouldn't trust the way she had her eyes set on you the entire night."
William couldn't hear a single thing the voice on the phone said, his blood had run cold and his mind was in overdrive. In the blurry background, the voice asks if he was alright, but he was far from it.
He ends the call and slumps to the floor. Did he really kill this woman? Was everything that person over the phone said true? Was he a murderer?
He covers his face with his hands and screams into them, tears now freely rolling down his cheeks.
No matter how he thought about it, his life and career would be over the minute anyone found out about this.
Wiping his tears, he gets up and begins to move the body off the bed. He runs to his closet and finds an old blanket. He wraps the body in the blanket and racks his brain for ideas on how to dispose of it.
For a split second, he thinks of calling the police and letting them take care of the situation, but seeing as how everything points to him being the killer, he rather not take that chance.
A sick idea pops into his head and he dreads how he could even think of such. On the roof of his building is an old chute, no one knew of it and the few who did never went there. It was the perfect place to hide a body. But the smell would attract people to it and sooner or later he would be caught. He had to think of something else.
What about his pool? He had two of them, no one would question him if he closed off one. Plus he rarely had visitors over. He thought of draining his pool, making a hole at the bottom and stuffing the body in there. He would cover up the whole with some cement and paint it back up then fill the pool up with water once again. That seemed like a much better idea.
For the rest of the morning, he found all the equipments he needed and got to work. By late afternoon he had successfully hidden the body in his pool. Still shaken by the events of the night before and the day, he sat on the floor and tried to collect his thoughts. In an hour he would be heading to work, in an hour he would have to act like his day was normal. In an hour he would be shoved back into his career, with no one knowing a dead body lies underneath his pool.
He walks over to his bathroom and gets ready for work. His phone rings once again and this time it's his manager calling. "You're needed at the studio in thirty minutes. Will you be going there on your own or should I come pick you up?"
"I will be heading there on my own Ian, don't worry about me. I'll see you there."
He cuts the call before his manager can utter a goodbye. His hands are still shaking by the time he gets to his car. Driving over to the studio, his mind still tries to replay the events of last night. He tries to figure out what actually happened between himself and the now dead woman, what could have made him kill her?
As much as he would love to find the answers he desperately needed, his career was what was important right now. He could only hope that no one asked of the woman's whereabouts; because how could he explain her body laying 3 feet deep underneath his pool?
© Mary Jeje A
