Scream

Reyna Copulas

The next day was Monday, which meant school. I dragged myself out of bed and managed to dress in a floral blouse and white shorts. I look myself in the mirror, making sure everything is in place. I braided my hair today and I've pinned back the annoying strands, though I can bet you they'll fall in my face within the next hour. There's a desk in my room across from my mirror, and on my chair, there's the stranger's jacket. 

 I pick it up to bring it to him at school. I have a few classes with the guy, but we've never actually talked. "Maybe now's a good time to start," I unsurely sigh to myself. My thoughts are cut short by a phone call from Allister. "Hey, Al. What's up?" 

"Reyna!" she exclaims, relieved to hear my voice as if she thought I was dead. "You're okay."

"Well, not totally," I tell her, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and getting in my car. "I've still got to go to school.

"Reyna, something terrible happened at the party..." Allister's voice trembles and I hear her sniffling in the distance.

"You bet," I agree, trying to lighten the mood. Maybe she called because something else happened and she needs to take her mind off things, which is odd – usually, if someone needs cheering up, they go to Al. But not today. "Underaged drinking, illegal drugs, sixteen-year-olds driving past curfew..."

 "No, this is serious, Rey. Just hurry up and get here, I'll explain everything in person."

"On my way," I assure. I pass through the hallway and glance at the closed guest doors. Sometimes, my mom rents them out, but a few of them are almost always empty. All the doors remain closed, but today, one of them is cracked. My door is in the hallway, from here the last door on the left is the one that is opened. My hand rests on the knob. Do I shut it or walk-in?

 I close my eyes and shake off the echo of bad memories. When I was really little, a man rented this room out. We thought it was odd that he had so little packed with him. The man had a chill about him – a cold stare in his eyes, a clamminess to his skin. We discovered him the next day, a belt tied around his neck and to the bedpost. He had forced himself to die. He ran and fought against the belt until he died. For a little while, a murder investigation was opened. Why would someone struggle so hard to commit suicide? There's drug OD's, a shot to the head, a simple ceiling fan hanging...why take the painful way out? 

But there was no motive for murder and the man had just lost his daughters. Suicide made the most sense.

 I can't stand the feeling I get every time I pass this room. Someone died, their body was cold and frigid. I peek inside, the window leaking sunlight, making the room almost seeming cheery. The bedpost is rubbed down from where the belt was looped around. On the bed, there's a thank you note.

I enjoyed the stay. I plan on coming back soon.

I very calmly slam the door and get the hell out of that room. No one has stayed in this particular room beside the suicide man, and that note wasn't there when he left. I rush down the hallway and through the living room, grabbing a banana on the way out.

 "Reyna, what's wrong?" my mother asks.

"Nothing," I say in a rush. "I'm just going to be late. Bye, I love you!" I call, half out the door.

 "Don't forget, your father will be home early today. I planned a big dinner!"

 I close the door and rush into the car, shoving the note in my pocket. Someone was in my house sometime from yesterday night to today – that's not a giant time gap, which is the scary thing. My parents would never play a joke about something like this. The incident affected us all. The only other person who knows about the suicide is Maren.