|the naive rebel|
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xxxiii| As you like it
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word count- 2151

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INAAYAT
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The lady had returned to her desk, while Ishaan and I are still seated on the metal chairs looking at each other. He is judging me and I am glaring back, trying to diffuse the heated look he is passing towards me.

He turns his head towards the empty corridor, rubbing his forehead.

And I am sure he is thinking about something deeply.

"Give me the key." He whispers loud enough for me to hear. I hand him the small metal and pass him an incredulous look.

"I'll go inside the record room, which is the last room of this corridor. You'll have to guard the door. Can you do that?" He questions.

"Ah- you are forgetting who got you the key in the first place." I fake a smile at him.

"And you are forgetting who just had a bleeding forehead because of not walking properly." He retorts back mockingly.

"It's an inbuilt defect. I can't cure it."

"What do you even mean? You just have to walk carefully."

"Exactly. When I am extra conscious, I still manage to twist my ankle while walking. I just can't get rid of the clumsiness." I suspire in defeat.

He huffs, shaking his head in disapproval.

"I'll go there subtly, try not getting hurt, again? Okay." He commands the last sentence.

"Just for the record, I don't enjoy hurting myself. I just do it inadvertently."

"Be. Careful." And with that, he sprints lousily towards the corridor. There is no patient or anyone from the faculty present which helps him to reach the room easily.

I stand up too, wincing when I realise that my head hurts. I can't stand properly and my balance is shaken. I take a deep breath, pushing the nauseousness that threatens to cocoon me, away.

Wait. How will I signal him if anyone does come near the record room?

I walk slowly balancing myself, rapidly blinking my eyes. Tears are welling up in the corner of my eyes, as my head starts feeling heavier and heavier with every passing second.

'It's fine. I'm fine.' I chant till I reach the end. I stand at a certain distance from the record room's door. Next to the record room, it is a dead-end, connecting to a glass door which is covered with blue blinds.

I lean against the tiled wall, the scent of antiseptics, and phenol mix in the air. My head feels heavier, but I fight against the drowsiness. There's room number 201, 202, 203 on the left side of the corridor.

I didn't realise my wound was deep, but now as it slowly burns, I feel terrible.

I take a look at the corridor which is still empty but I hear a door unlocking-the door opposite me.

A nurse comes out, closing the door behind her. She scrutinises her eyes at me. Obviously, who would stand casually in an empty passage.

"Yes ma'am?" She starts. I gulp down the uneasiness. I point at the freshly covered wound.

"Oh, but there's no other nurse here. Are you feeling okay?"

"I was sitting there," I point at the metal benches, "I felt nauseated, so I was just walking here until the feeling hit again."

"Come, I'll take you to the doctor?"

"No-no. I'll be fine at some time. Can you help me walk till there?" I fake a groan which turns into an actual flinch.

"Sure." She helps me walk to the bench again as my head throbs and my eyes burn. Making me sit, she stands next to me till I hear someone calling her and she excuses herself for a minute.

I work on my breathing, one-inhale-two-exhale and then there was just blackness as I slipped into oblivion.

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I suddenly feel a cool wave rushing through my veins, as I cough my way to light. Everything is blur and spinning. I blink some more times clearing the blurriness.

"How do you feel?" The voice is low but it feels like hammering on my head.

"Hmm." I lazily reply, my head adjusting to the surrounding.

I push myself up, trying to sit as I feel a hand helping me. When I am consciously aware, I spot an ever stressed Ishaan pinning me with his usual-look of disappointment.

Why is he so disappointed in me, and always.

"My wound is not deep, it doesn't even hurt." He tries imitating a person. Whom I know is me, but-

He gets up from the bed and walks away. While I slump down on the cushy mattress, staring at the fan overhead.

Bad decision. I realise when I start feeling a wash of nauseousness again.

I turn my head to the right, taking in Ishaan's bedroom's decor. I had never come to his bedroom until today.

"Here take this.." I glance towards him with a jolt as his voice surprises me.

He helps me again, to sit up, and hands me a cup of-

Wait. I look at him shocked and then at the cup.

"You brought coffee? You BOUGHT coffee?" I almost yelp.

"Don't look so surprised. The only thing that can cure your headache is coffee, so on our way back I bought it."

My mind takes its own time processing his gesture.

"Your non-hurting wound is a concussion. The doctor checked your wound when I found you unconscious." He informs me sitting in front, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You got the file?" I ask humming ignoring the topic of my injury.

"Yes. Fortunately, I was in the corridor when you fainted. I had a feeling that something like this would happen."

"I am alive." I nonchalantly comment.

He passes another disappointed look, and I zip my mouth after that.

"You really should take care of yourself." He utters after some minutes of brooding silence and I raise my eyes to meet his.

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I wake up again, rubbing my eyes. There's darkness in the room. I crane my neck trying to see my phone for the time. It is 8 PM, Sunday.

I had slept again after taking medicines and now there wasn't even a cent of drowsiness in me. I carefully stand up from the bed. I can't locate the switch but I blindly make my way outside.

I spot Ishaan lying on the sofa, reading the black file which I am guessing is from the record room. I make my way towards the sofa chair. He doesn't notice my presence and continues concentrating on the files. I take one and start skimming through it.

"Did you find any similarity?" I question which startles him and he almost falls off the sofa.

"What the-" He looks at me and his eyes are as wide as saucers.

"Why did you get up? Go and sleep." He takes the file from my hand.

"I am not sleepy. I'll help you with the files."

"No. You won't."

"Yes. I will."

"No."

I narrow my eyes at him and snatch the file back from him.

"I am," I announce ignoring his retorts. He sighs in defeat and goes back to his file.

As I read Ojas' file I realise that there is nothing too specific in the record. His death was declared due to water in his lungs. There was nothing suspicious in slip.

Cause of death: drowning.

His blood was clear from any kind of drug which cancels our suspicion of the drug case and suicides being related.

I read one more file and realise that there is no mention of drugs, again.

Are they not related? Which means the only block we had built our case on, is false?

"Ishaan, there is no mention of drugs. Does that mean there was no relation? Are these really-suicides and not murders?" I question defeated as I continue staring at the file.

"No. After these records, I am more certain of the fact that these are murders." He tells me.

"How?"

"See here." He opens all the files and places them on the coffee table, in a sequence.

"First, there's a pattern. The first four people died of drowning, jumping off the terrace, hanging from the ceiling and slitting wrist, respectively. And the fifth one, that is Ojas again died from drowning. It's a pattern. 99% chances are that the next target would be killed by pushing him off the building but we need to stop that from happening. If they were real suicides, there shouldn't have been a pattern. For once let's assume they are mere coincidences and nothing else. But now here comes the most important clue. LSD. Every one of them had minute traces of LSD in their blood." He informs.

"What is LSD?"

"Lysergic acid diethylamide. It's a hallucinogen drug. It causes hallucinations. A person under its influence can be made to hallucinate anything by hypnotising them. Like, if I repeat certain things in front of these people (under the effect of this drug), they will hallucinate those things and follow them."

"If there is a drug in their blood system why were no actions taken?" I raise my thoughts.

"Because LSD isn't a harmful drug. It comes from a food source- rye. It is basically from the ergot- the fungus that grows on rye. Which means, it was straight away neglected to see that it was a natural drug. Though, I am confident that there is someone from the hospital who altered the real quantity of the drug in their blood and mentioned a false and normal one here. Which removes the chances of it being harmful in any way. LSD is useful in altering a person's thoughts and make them hyper-aware of their surroundings. A perfect method to plan a murder and make it look like a suicide."

"That means, they were hypnotised to kill themselves," I conclude.

"Yes."

"And now as these were murders, there is a connection between these victims and the drug case. There are three possibilities, one- they were involved with the gang, second- they took drugs and third- they found about the person who smuggled them inside the college. Which means, there is someone in the college who is responsible for these murders. And maybe, we already know that person."

"We have to find the culprit before the person kills someone else."

"For that, first we have to find the drug gang's leader. He is the only one who can lead us to the killer. Or maybe, he is the killer." Ishaan points out, rubbing his temple.

The case was now in its most important stage. We know about the murders, the pattern. We have to find the killer before another innocent soul loses his/her life.

We sit in silence when my phone dings indicating a new message.

Nikhil: Meet me at the library tomorrow, before college.

Me: Why? Is everything okay? Nonetheless, will be there.

He doesn't respond immediately and I click my phone off. Facing Ishaan who is looking at me. I have no idea why, but I find myself telling him about the text.

"It was Nikhil, he wants to meet me in the morning. I guess I should leave for my flat, it's already late." I tell him looking at the clock which shows 11 PM.

"I'll drop you." His voice is a bit more restrained and thoughtful. The aura around us changes, and I certainly do not like it.

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keep dodging the bullets,
ऊ.