The Rebuilt

Static between us

When I told Leo about the man in the hoodie,
He laughed.

Not a full laugh.It's more like a nervous chuckle..cut short halfway.

"You're watching too many crime shows," he said, tossing a power bank into his backpack. "Maybe he just liked your face. Or maybe you're the creepy one."
"Why are you like this🤌"I asked rolling my eyes.
"Stop..you weirdo" he replied.
That's not funny.Stupid Leo😒

But I saw that flicker of something in his eyes. Fear and Recognition.

He knew more than he let on.Maybe he knows more than I do.

That night, Leo stayed back while I studied in the common area. I came back late like usual.He was already in bed, turned away from me, earbuds in.

I whispered a goodnight. No response.He usually don't respond.So I didn't care.

The next morning, I had an exam,
Subject-neurocognitive disorders. Fit😅.

I searched for my black hoodie which I don't wear likely and couldn't find it. Odd..
Leo always wore his blue one ,said black made him look "too serious."
But he's not a person taking serious even if a man comes to kill him.

Maybe I left the hoodie in the laundry. Maybe Leo took it by mistake.
I didn't think much.

I left quietly and quickly because the exam coming up is also very hard. Leo didn't stir.He was in his bed in corner.

After the exam, I grabbed sandwiches from canteen for me and Leo and came back to the hostel.
There were flashing lights.

Paramedics.
A crowd.
What's going on?I shocked.

Someone said the word "hostel." Someone else said "blood."

I dropped sandwiches.

The world tilted sideways.

Leo was dead.

They said it was a suicide.
Slashed wrist. Deep. Messy. Too much blood.

A girl I didn't know was crying in the hallway. Another guy said, "He was too stressed. Exams, probably."
People always want simple answers. Convenient ones.

I sat on the curb, staring at nothing.

That couldn't be right.
Leo wasn't weak. He cracked jokes in the worst situations.
He cursed out his professors when he failed. He didn't fold under pressure.

"He's not the kind of person who kills himself," I told the police.

One of them raised an eyebrow. "How well did you know him?"

"Well enough to know that's not true."

They asked more questions. I gave them vague answers.

"I think I saw someone in a hoodie that night... but I was half-asleep. Leo was in bed when I left. That's all I know."

I didn't lie.
I just didn't tell them what I didn't understand.

For the next few days, everything felt heavy. Like breathing through wet cotton.

I couldn't sleep in the room anymore. Not after what I saw. Not after the stains were scrubbed out of the carpet.
I started sleeping in the library lounge. No one asked questions from me. I was overwhelmed.

One evening, I went back to collect some of my books.
I shifted my bed to grab a folder that had slid under it.

That's when I saw it.

The bloodied knife.
Leo's broken wristwatch.
And my missing black hoodie, stuffed beneath the frame.

My breath caught in my throat.

I touched the fabric and felt a wave of nausea. Then pounding in my head. Then something like memory no, not memory, more like sensation.
Cold.
Stillness.
Someone watching Leo. Not reacting. Just watching.

I stumbled back and vomited into the bin.

What was happening to me?

That night, I had a dream.Or a memory of the hoodie guy.

The man in the hoodie was there again. Standing at the edge of my vision.

His voice echoed:

"It's not your friend I'm watching."
The next morning, I woke up on the floor of the library. I didn't even remember walking there.

I'd tried to convince myself it was a dream the knife, the watch, the hoodie.
But the bloodstains on my hands said otherwise.

I wore gloves to wash them off.

Not because I didn't want to be caught.
Because I didn't want to know what else I was capable of remembering.

I stopped going to classes for a few days.

Emails piled up. Texts came in half condolences, half curiosity.
Everyone wanted to know how I was coping.
I didn't answer a single one because I don't wanted to.

Leo's empty bed still haunted the room. His notebook was gone. So was his laptop.
Maybe the police had taken them.

The only thing left untouched was his cracked phone charger, still coiled on the desk like a dead snake.

I kept remembering things that might not have happened.

The feel of the knife handle.
The sound of Leo's voice, distant and frightened:

"It's not you I'm afraid of ,it's the you that doesn't know who he is."
Had he really said that?

I can't remember.

I saw the person,Dr. Vithanage again two days after Leo's funeral.

He was walking through the Psychology Faculty garden, slow, thoughtful, dressed again in that black hoodie.
I couldn't help myself.He was the man.Maybe I should follow him.

I followed him.
From the garden, down a hallway, up a narrow staircase I'd never noticed before.
It led to a locked office. He entered with a keycard. I stopped just short of the door.

There was a nameplate.

Dr. Malcolm Vithanage – Research & Experimental Psychiatry Unit.

My heart stuttered.

He wasn't just a lecturer.?
He was part of something deeper ..god.
Something I wasn't supposed to know existed.
Then was there anything wrong with Leo?
Why I didn't feel it.Oh god..

I came back at night. Broke into the office.

My hands were shaking, but my mind was silent like a machine turning on.

Cabinets lined the back wall, most locked. But one drawer was half-open. Inside it was a folder. Thick, worn, and labeled with typed print:

Subject: Kian D. Silva
Supervisor: Dr. Malcolm Vithanage
The air felt like it vanished from the room.

I flipped it open.

Inside were photos. Handwritten notes. Diagrams I couldn't fully understand. A timeline dates, most of which meant nothing to me. And at the top, next to my name, a red stamp: ARCHIVED – ACTIVE MONITORING.
I didn't get to read more.
A sound footsteps, close now. I slammed the drawer shut, heart racing, and slipped back into the hallway before the lights flicked on.
As I disappeared down the stairs, I whispered the only thing I could:
"Why the hell is there a file on me?"
"Did he had a file on Leo too..Is he a psychopath? Killing innocents .."
Maybe next victim is me

Had Leo know this before.Maybe he did.
I saw something in those eyes .
Why didn't he tell me?

LEO( Murdered ..in his sleep)