“I need to go on a work trip for a month. Could you come by my place to feed my cat? Also, the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” At two in the morning, I was jolted awake by my phone vibrating. I grabbed my phone and saw it was a message from my best mate, Chloe. The next moment, I was wide awake and drenched in cold sweat. First, she’s a freelancer, so there’s no such thing as a work trip for her. Second, she doesn’t have a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. “Emma, I need to go on a work trip for a month. Could you come by my place to feed my cat? Also, the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” At two in the morning, I was jolted awake by my phone vibrating. I picked up my phone from the bedside and saw it was a message from my best friend, Chloe Harris. I’m a light sleeper; it’s no exaggeration to say that if a pin dropped in the night, I’d wake up immediately. Chloe knew this all too well, which is why she never texts me in the middle of the night. In the next second, I suddenly realized something, and sleep fled from me, replaced by a wave of cold fear. I’ve known Chloe for over a decade; she’s my closest friend, and nobody understands her better than I do. First, she’s a freelancer; there’s no such thing as a work trip for her. Second, she doesn’t have a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. Recently, Chloe and I watched a film about the safety of women living alone, which included a plot point where two best mates had a secret code in case they were in danger. “Emma, if I ever send you a strange message, you must come and save me.” My heart raced, and I instinctively reached for Chloe’s number to call her. But I quickly realized she was hinting at something alarming rather than directly telling me what was happening, which could only mean that the attacker was right next to her, watching her every move. At two-thirty in the morning, it seemed like the power was out, and everything was pitch black outside. In the darkness, it felt as though countless eyes were watching me, my heart racing wildly, the strong beats echoing in my ears, as if they might burst from my chest. I hurriedly grabbed my medication from the drawer and swallowed a couple of pills dry, taking a while to regain my composure. Once I calmed down, I called James Thornton first, then reported it to the police. James is my boyfriend—he’s smart and tall. Whether I’m facing the police or going to find Chloe, I always feel safer with him by my side. As soon as I saw James, I rushed into his arms, crying uncontrollably. “Emma, don’t be scared. I’m here; no one will hurt you again,” James murmured, patting my back softly. Inhaling his subtle scent, my fear gradually dissipated. Thank goodness I have James. About five minutes later, the police arrived. I sat on the sofa, listening to James talk to them. “Emma Smith?” said one of the officers, his voice laced with surprise. I looked up to the door and was astonished to see a familiar face. It was David Collins. What a coincidence; David and I go way back. We were classmates in secondary school, and he was technically my first love. However, the circumstances of our breakup were rather tragic, something I’ve never forgotten. We were young and didn’t understand much. The kind of childish romance we had didn’t hold any weight. Even so, seeing David now brought an inexplicable awkwardness. David was all business, though, and had no intention of reminiscing. He said matter-of-factly, “We understand the situation. We’re going to Chloe’s house now.” “I’m coming with you,” I said, summoning my courage. David shot me a disapproving glance, as if he thought I’d just complicate things. James also advised, “I know you’re worried about Chloe, but this is something the police should handle.” I bit my lip stubbornly and insisted, “Chloe is my best friend. I need to see her safe before I can relax. Plus, I have her keys; I can help.” Seeing my determination, James and David had no choice but to relent. They both knew I’m quite stubborn about what I set my mind on. Reluctantly, David allowed James and me to tag along.
Chloe lived in an upscale house as a standard wealthy second-generation; her security system was top-notch. David immediately instructed his team to pull up the surveillance footage, and he followed James and me straight to Chloe’s flat. As we reached the front door, we caught a whiff of something metallic in the air. I shuddered, a sense of foreboding washing over me. My breathing quickened as I fumbled for the keys in my bag. The more anxious I became, the less I could think clearly. The keys, usually on the outside of my bag, were nowhere to be found. Seemingly sensing my fear, James wrapped his arms around me from behind, whispering, “Emma, don’t be scared. I’m here.” I took a few deep breaths, forcing myself to stay calm, and finally found the keys, handing them to David. David shot me an irritated glance, likely thinking I was taking too long, but he didn’t say anything and turned to open the door. Chloe’s house was dark, and the sharp, metallic scent made it hard to breathe. I stared at the closed door, an inexplicable panic gripping me, as if some monstrous beast was about to leap out from the darkness. I clutched James’s arm tightly, hoping it would somehow comfort me. When the door swung open, David stepped inside first, fumbling for the light switch in the living room. What I saw in the centre of the room would haunt me forever. Chloe was dead. In her own living room, in a grotesquely violent manner. She was nailed to a cross in a kneeling position, her face mutilated, and her body stabbed numerous times, blood splattered everywhere. I screamed in terror and nearly collapsed. Fortunately, James caught me just in time and pulled out his medication, handing it to me. After taking the pills, I felt a bit better, but I was still sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s all my fault. I came too late. If I’d come earlier…” David stood a few feet away, shooting me a glare. “The killer is exceptionally brutal. If you’d arrived sooner, there would have been another body to contend with.” I felt sheepish. David always had a sharp tongue, just like before. That was just typical. The police quickly cordoned off the area with tape. The officer who went to review the footage returned empty-handed. “The cameras nearby were damaged.” I sat dazed on the steps, feeling lost. To lose my best friend like this, at home, was unbearable for anyone. While I was lost in thought, a furry head suddenly appeared in front of me, startling me out of my wits. Thankfully, James was right there, pulling me into his embrace. “Come back, you silly dog!” David called sternly. I realized it was just a police dog. “I’m sorry; Emma is scared of dogs. Could you please keep it on a tight leash?” I heard James’s displeased voice. David held the leash, casting me a contemplative glance. I imagined he was thinking about when I had started fearing dogs. After all, back when we dated, we had adopted a puppy together. But people change. As the one who reported the incident, David proceeded to question me alone. “What was your relationship with the deceased, Chloe Harris?” “She’s my best friend.” I thought, he should know this without asking, considering we were all secondary school classmates, and I’ve been closest to Chloe since then. Rather than saying she was my best friend, I should say she was my only friend.
My dad was a gambling addict and a deadbeat; my mum ran an unlicensed massage shop in town. Somehow, the news leaked out, and the whole school knew, leaving no one willing to befriend me except Chloe. Having Chloe by my side made my entire youth feel less bleak. She was more important to me than my estranged parents. “What did she do for a living? Did she have any enemies?” “She was a culinary influencer. She rarely got into disputes with anyone, and I truly can’t think of anyone who would hate her enough to kill her so brutally.” As I spoke, my voice trembled, and I buried my face in my hands. “Did she have any romantic entanglements?” I racked my brain for a while, shaking my head in confusion. “I don’t know; I never really pried into her love life.” “Aren’t you best friends?” David squinted slightly. I felt a bit awkward. “Even best friends don’t share everything, do they?” David didn’t respond and continued, “What about you? What do you do for a living now?” I hesitated before replying honestly, “I just resigned recently; I’m currently unemployed.” “Why did you resign?” “David, does your line of questioning even relate to Chloe’s death, or do you suspect I’m the killer?” I felt angry, but David remained coldly objective. “Chloe died in her home; there were no signs of forced entry. The killer might have been someone she knew—someone she let in, or someone who had a key to her house.” “You mentioned when you called the police that you received a strange text from Chloe, but we didn’t find her phone at the scene.” At this point, I realized he genuinely suspected me. I let out a bitter laugh. “So you think that I, without a stable job or income, killed my friend out of jealousy because she had a better life than mine?” “Answer my question.” His tone was devoid of warmth. I relented. “Fine. I resigned because I have an anxiety disorder that makes it difficult for me to live and work normally.” I looked down, not wanting to see pity in his eyes. To be honest, his lack of trust made me feel rather down. But then again, when we were together, he never really trusted me fully either. To him, I was merely a familiar stranger; why would he believe what I said? David scrutinized me, as if trying to detect any signs of guilt or panic on my face. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until he suddenly pulled out an evidence bag and placed it gently on the table. “This phone is yours, isn’t it?” It was an outdated model. The screen lit up, revealing my selfie on the display. Given Chloe’s background, there was no way she would use such a cheap phone; hers had always been the latest model. I stared at the phone for a long moment before nodding. “Yes, it’s mine.” “Can you explain why your phone was found at the crime scene?” David pressed.
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