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Loki slammed the book shut on his study table. He couldn't focus on reading it. Anxiously, he reached for his phone from his pocket to see if there's an update of the case from Inspector Estrada. Albeit knowing that there would be none as his phone did not ring out earlier, he was still disappointed upon seeing the same last message from the inspector. Sighing, he tossed his phone on his bed.
It has been two weeks since his only friend, Rhea, have been murdered. And it has been a day since the Inspector forcefully pulled him out from the case. The elder told him to rest for three days because he has been working on the case nonstop for the past week. He rarely got sleep nor did he eat the correct meals. Loki insisted that he was doing fine and that he can still push further but it was to no avail. He just calmed down when the Inspector promised to update him about the case from time to time.
He's true to his words as updates about the case comes in occasionally. But Loki couldn't sit still. He tried looking for different angles of the case, definitely not heeding the elder's order to rest, but it's just that, he couldn't. His mind was restless and so is his body. But there was not much he could do while he's stuck in his apartment. The young detective has used his cards these past days; he has contacted Herschel too, the tech geek for the case. He couldn't bother him anymore.
Suddenly, Loki became aware of his loneliness in his room. The silence was too loud. Unease flooded his system. His fingers trembled ever so slightly when a picture of someone dear to him appeared on his mind.
Oh no.
It is starting again.
Desperately, he searched for his earphones. He hated these moments. This is exactly what he was running away from. The reason why he was purposely burying his brain to the case so that he couldn't think, so that he couldn't feel. He can't allow himself to be vulnerable, no. Especially when the murderer is still running rampant around like they were taking a stroll.
Especially when his conscience keeps bugging him.
He needed to escape.
Plugging his earphones in his ears, he played a piece from Tchaikovsky. He turned up the volume until he couldn't hear anything but the composition. Loki winced. It hurts his ears. But it was better than ever feeling anything.
It was better than dealing with something he couldn't control.
He started fidgeting on his phone, looking for other ways to distract himself. Should he play a game? Or should—
Loki's finger slipped and accidentally clicked his Facebook app. He disliked the application, but it was the most used social media by the people in his school, therefore the only way he could keep up on the news conveniently.
Scrolling in, he thought that it wasn't so bad. But then his heart sank when he saw a post from his school's confession page.
"TO THE ONES WHO MURDERED RHIANNON DELOS REYES,
I HOPE THIS DAY WILL BE YOUR LAST. YOU DESERVE A PLACE IN HELL!"
His eyes unfocused. The moment he read the familiar name, emotions exploded inside him. The music isn't helping him anymore. As his rage continued to boil in his gut, his mind became a place of turmoil more and more.
At once, he remembered everything: Rhea's corpse as her throat bleeds, the writings on her wall, and the children's song playing as he walked inside the very place his friend died. It was all clear in his mind as if it happened just a moment ago.
Loki's mind reeled. His head ached so much he barely felt like it was there; every single thing looked unreal and he felt dizzy. His body trembled and he tried to stop it but failed miserably. He clenched and unclenched his hands repeatedly as an attempt to regain control of his own body.
Crouching down, he began muttering curses like a mantra. He rarely even cursed. But those words were the only ones he could recover from his vocabulary. He repeatedly spoke ill for the people who did his friend wrong. His voice cracked in spite.
Suddenly, he can't breathe.
Rhea's grinning face flashed on his mind that made his gut churned. That was the smile he failed to save. He no longer knows who he was cursing earlier, nor who he loathed. Voices he didn't know blared on his head.
'Wasn't it his fault?'
'He was the one who was supposed to die.'
'He dragged Rhea into this.'
'She deserved to live.'
'You deserved to bleed.'
'Loki, aren't you useless?'
'You can save people.'
'But you can't offer salvation to your dearest.'
Loki fell from his seat. He wanted to scream. But he could only choke on his own voice. Saliva dripped down from his mouth to his shirt but he couldn't care less; he just needed this to stop. Tears poured from his bloodshot eyes without a pause.
What should he do?
WHAT SHOULD HE DO?!
STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP!!!
He gripped his hair tightly. His eyes bulged as he straightened his thoughts. 'Wait! Right. No. It was not his fault. He did not kill Rhea. It was not his fault that he wasn't there at the moment. It wasn't.'
The disgruntled boy desperately attempted to bring out his blurred out logical thinking. It was what he's good at. He can get out of this. He tried to rationalize everything, even his feelings. No, it wouldn't be right for him to think—to feel this way. Knees trembling, he tried to get up. A small smile formed on his lips.
Yes, this is—
The moment his own eyes met his reflection on the mirror, he felt his stomach turn. He couldn't see his own face. It was blurry.
But the silhouette of the girl he failed to save was behind him, reminding him of his 'sin'.
Loki stared at the unknown form with apprehension. His gray orbs quivered violently. He wasn't scared of the existence, but he sure feared what it was saying. It almost reminded him of a prosecutor ready to expose his 'crimes' to the ears of the public.
Guilt crept up to his spine.
He tried to calm himself, appeasing his thoughts, telling himself that what he's seeing was not real.
It was the first time logic abandoned his side.
The phantom met his trembling eyes in the mirror. His heart beat like he was on a death row. He froze.
'You could have saved me.'
'If only you were a better detective.'
Loki felt a rush of liquid from his throat. Clutching his mouth, he forced his feet to run towards the door. He felt like collapsing while running towards the bathroom. The moment he reached the toilet, he puked his guts out.
His eyes bulged when his stomach's contents poured out from his mouth. It hurts. It was excruciating. He felt like he was dying. He vomited for a while until he ran out of stuff to vomit and his throat have gone dry. After flashing the toilet, he sat on the floor.
The tiredness came rushing in.
For a while, he didn't move. There were no thoughts in his head. He was glad for that. He closed his eyes and breathed. Inhale, exhale. It felt nice.
When he heard the rooster from the outside, he realized that it was already morning. Loki was there for too long. He opened his eyes to see outside from the small window. The sun, indeed, is already rising.
He turned his face from the huge mirror when he passed by it.
He decided to wash his hands as it had been dirtied earlier. Thoroughly, he took his time cleaning his hands with the hand soap.
He then dried his hands clean.
Loki still feels as if the filth never left him.
After washing his mouth and face, he finally looked at himself in the mirror.
He still couldn't see his face properly. It was like he was gazing in a body that's not his.
But, oh well. He needed to continue for the day.
He needed to play his part as a detective, a club president, a friend, and a 'sinner' who failed to save a life.