I was 30 minutes late. Tense as it is, I tried to look calm as soon as I ring the doorbell of his home. It is Sunday morning, and the heat is overcoming whatever coolness my body had after taking a bath earlier. The time is only past ten in the morning, but the humidity is something that can irritate my too short temper. I've been standing in front of the gate for almost five minutes, and no one seems to hear it. I rang the doorbell a second time, third time, continuously, but still have not received the response I need. Are they kidding me? It is not funny at all. If only this whole plan of sleeping in his house, watching movies together while making our own rarity of food is not interesting at all, I won't go. Bonding with friends is one thing, but having a chance to get closer to him is another. I smile at my own thoughts, too immature.
Instead of ringing the doorbell again, which by far is not a good choice, I took my cell phone out of my bag and tried calling them. Leaning on the gate, I realized that it was open. Curious as it may seem, I take a step forward and have a walk inside the premises. It is our plan in the first place, we are going here in his house. If they all planned to ignore me because of being late, I will really kick their butts. They know that I'm a heavy sleeper and waking up early is not my thing. It's their fault setting up time as they see fit.
I planned to knock at the entrance door when I notice a splattered shade of crimson on its side. Like the gate, it is unlocked. A strange feeling is slowly penetrating my heart. Every step I take and every courage I tried to gather just to move inside the house is like fighting a million of scenarios that is now playing inside of my mind. My heart is pounding, my hands are shaking, my body felt really cold, and the sweat, not only because of heat, but also of nervousness is dripping from my forehead down to my chin.
I heard a careless running and loud gasp before it became silent again. Stepping on the cold floor as careful as I can, I tried to get a view inside of the first room.
Reality leaves my sanity when familiar faces register on my sight. Their souls have been forcefully removed from their bodies, bodies that are no longer capable of living. He is standing in the center of all the dead bodies, full of crimson blood, with a menacing smile patch on his face. He is holding a knife in his left hand and a gun on his right. I can't understand. This is supposed to be a great day. This should be the day where everyone laughs and enjoy. How can it be like this?
His stare changed from his front to his back, from the window to mine. I need to run, but my feet feel like cemented onto the floor. The energy I have earlier suddenly leaves my body and all I can do is to stare back at him, crying like a prisoner waiting for its turn to be executed.
Sleeping in is a bad idea. Who thought that this man was a different person like what he always was. A wrong choice. A very wrong one.
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