"Instead of starting from scratch,
Use your defeats to fuel your success.”
Claire takes another uneven breath and continues her errand of crying. Her head is lying on the steering wheel and her hands lay numb. For hours she is crying and staring blankly at the stars.
She doesn’t know what to do now and she feels utterly broken. Her tears don’t comfort her but tease that how pathetic she is. Her brain constantly reminds her of how helpless she is. Her heart keeps breaking apart and she does not know when this event of her heart torturing her will end.
She was helpless when her parents died. She too was in the car, on the backseat. But when the car crashed, only she had to be saved as a constant reminder of how unlucky she is. After that incident, her relatives refused to keep her and thus she was sent to the orphanage where she met Aron.
He had a depressing story too but he wasn’t the one to narrate it. He used to help everyone and show off that he’s the strongest boy. He never showed how broken he was. There was just one problem with him when people misunderstood or misjudged him, his anger would fly over the roof. But God knows, he has the purest heart to ever tread on the earth.
This quality of his made him her ideal. She aspired to be like him. To be so strong and protect everyone. He was her role model. She called him ‘Mr. Perfectionist’ because he did everything with perfection and complete dedication. He never hesitated to sacrifice and that’s what people used him for.
“Aaaaa!” She yells banging her fist on the steering wheels. “What do I do now?” She murmurs frustrated with herself.
With a broken heart and no destination in mind, Claire finally starts driving her car. If she can’t save a single person whom she admired, then she has no right to live.
Cars fly past her car when she hits the accelerator, defying the speed limits. Her mind fails to shape figures ahead, for her vision is blurred by constant tears flowing down her cheeks. She sniffles and sobs, hating herself, even more, when the look on Aron’s face come to her mind when he refused to look at her.
In the void of all hope, she becomes completely broken. Her head falls to a side and her body feels terribly weak, not even able to hold itself. Weakly, she pushes the breaks and jerks forward due to inertia, only to be held by the seat belts.
With a look at her surroundings, she weakly smiles. She opens the car’s door slowly and finds her feet on the railing of the same bridge where Aron had come that unfortunate night.
It is the place where everything has started when Aron was dragged into this case and this will be the very place where everything will end.
This time when she’s standing here, she has no hope to stop her, no revenge to fuel her, no regret since Aron had asked her to go away and no girl to offer her a knife to kill someone.
Claire’s eyes go wide in realisation and she jumps on the road with unsteady breaths. What the hell she was doing! She can’t be depressed right now when Aron needs her. When her damsel needs his white knight, she can’t back out.
“Damn it!” She cusses and grits her teeth. How could she forget something so important?
She gets disappointed at herself, but she keeps her inner conscience at bay for this and starts thinking.
“A girl had come out of the blue to save Aron from commuting suicide or one can say, to push his vengeance to kill Mayra. So, where is she now? Who was she?”
After all this mess and jumbled cards on deck, no one can slip from suspicion, not even Mayra. What if she killed herself? For now, no one is innocent in this game and to understand it, she must play it from the beginning.
“Instead of starting from scratch,
Use your defeats to fuel your success.”
Claire ducks and gets inside the area sealed by yellow tapes. She takes a deep breath and ties her hair into a bun while looking all around her.
She checks out Mayra’s room, studying every little detail of it. From the Renaissance paintings that hung on the wall to the teddy bear on the coffee table, Claire observes everything minutely.
Aron has told her that he left the knife on the nightstand but Mayra was killed with the same knife. How can that even happen?
Claire walks over to the nightstand beside the bed and puts on her gloves. She crouches and moves hee fingers slowly on the stand, feeling it for any clue that the knife has been kept them.
Her eyes roll over it for some time, but everything seemed too ordinary to leave a clue but during withdrawal of her hand, she feels fabric tickle her palm. She blinks twice and checks the sheets near that stand. She gently runs her hand over it and feels a sharp cut in the sheet that surely has to come from a very sharp object.
“So, Aron had kept it here. And by looking at the sharpness of the knife, it seems that the girl was sharpening her knife for a long time.” Claire notes in her mind.
Cut the bull that a random girl always walks around the town with a knife this sharp in her clutch. This is a very well-planned murder. Claire concludes.
She keeps thinking over the possibilities of a girl with a butcher knife when her hands involuntarily clutch the night stand’s handle and pull it. When the drawer finally opens with a jerk, her eyes go wide. On seeing it at a glance, it appears like a normal drawer but on looking it minutely, it shows a hidden compartment with a lock which is shining now due to the moonlight falling on it through the window.
“Aye, a secret? Not now girl.” Claire comments with dark humour and slowly picks up the lock. Picking up locks was one of the many things she has learnt in orphanage. Till now, it was of no use to her since her conscience never allowed it. But now, that same very conscience is asking for it. Life is ironical, isn’t it?
Finally, when the lock clicks, Claire’s eyes burn with the hunger of solving that simple yet complicated mystery of Mayra’s death. The killer is very smart, she would compliment him or her for that, ten on ten points but in her own way. The way cops treat their customers.
On pulling open the compartment, Claire finds some photographs inside it. She picks them and carefully places each photograph on the floor, one after another.
n every photograph, Mayra is with a tall and handsome man with brown eyes and blonde hair who looks a couple of years older than her. And by the pictures, one can easily tell they were dating.
“Who is this man with Mayra?” Claire speaks thinking over it while tapping her chin.
For a split second, her eyes waver to the drawer again where she notices something shiny. She bends and quickly takes it out. It is a photo frame with MY LOVELY FAMILY embedded in it. In this photo, Mayra is with an old lady and a younger boy, who share her facial features. They look like the same and the old lady looks like the older version of Mayra or Mayra looks like the younger version of her.
“So Mayra had a family too, but what were they doing during all this, the trial and the killer drama? Don’t they want to know what happened to her?” Claire speaks sceptically that it is fake.
Shaking her head and sighing out of frustration, she picks out her phone and dials someone’s number.
“Hello? James? It’s me, Claire. I want complete information about some people whose pictures I’m sending you in an hour. You get that?”
VERY SINCERE APOLOGIES FOR DELAY. I’M SO SORRY! SO, SO, SO, SORRY!
After completing projects, I thought I would get time for this but work came to me like a dagger, stabbing me of all my plans.
Okay a bad comparison, but you got my point right?
I’m so tired after Diwali preparations (it’s an Indian Festival) that Ican’topen my eyes now. But yeah, I updated.
Point out any mistakes and sorry for grammatical errors and typos.
P.S.- The story is unwrapping and I’m including the explanation of every hint that I dropped. So please, bear with me for a couple of more chapters.
P.P.S- Thanks for tolerating me and loving my book so much. I’m REALLY sorry for the delay.
P.P.P.S- I forgot what I wanted to say. Maybe I’m sleepy. Good night!
Don’t forget to me how was it.
Did you like the chapter?
What do you think about Mayra’s family and this mysterious man?
What do you think will happen next?
I would love to hear from you. So don’t hesitate to test your theory! Maybe it will be, right? Who knows.
OK! Bye now...
I’m too tired to speak anything.
And yeah, I have typed this on phone. So expect some autocorrect blessings too. But if you see any, just point them out. I’m too tired to open my eyes so I can’t revise it. Sorry!