Beneath the Surface

It started with a fight, a stupid fight, like always. Me and Kiran, arguing over nothing, really. At first, it was words, sharp, cutting, but words I could handle. I’ve always handled them. But tonight... something snapped. Maybe it was the way he laughed at me, like I wasn’t even there, like I didn’t matter. Or maybe it was the way he said my name, dripping with that smugness, that condescension.

I don’t remember grabbing the vase, but suddenly it was in my hand, and I swung it before I even knew what I was doing. It shattered against the side of his head with a sickening crack, and he fell—just like that. No scream, no struggle. Just a body hitting the floor, eyes wide, staring at nothing.

I stood there for what felt like hours, but it was probably only seconds, watching the blood slowly pool around him. The room was silent. No more insults, no more laughter. Just Kiran, still and lifeless.

I didn’t mean to kill him. It wasn’t planned. It just happened. I swear. But does that even matter now? He’s dead, and I’m the one who did it. His blood, his life, on my hands. I can't change that.

I didn’t know what to do at first. Panic, maybe, but not the kind where you scream or run. It was more like being frozen, stuck in place while your mind races a hundred miles an hour. But then I started moving, like my body knew what to do before my brain caught up. I grabbed towels, old clothes, anything I could find to soak up the blood, but it just kept spreading, soaking through everything. It was like trying to stop a river with paper.

I needed to move him. Get him out of the apartment before anyone noticed. I could hear the neighbors through the walls, their muffled laughter, TV blaring, like nothing had changed for them. They had no idea what had just happened a few feet away.

I rolled Kiran up in the rug, grunting as I dragged him toward the door. His body felt heavier than it should have, dead weight pulling me down. My muscles screamed, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I had to get him out of here. But where? Where could I take him where no one would find him?

The basement. The building had one, an old storage room that no one used anymore. It was dark and damp, full of broken furniture and forgotten junk. Perfect. No one would think to look there.

I dragged him down the stairs, every bump echoing in the empty stairwell. I thought about how loud it must have sounded, but no one came. I guess I got lucky. The basement was even colder than I remembered. I shoved him into a corner, covered him with a pile of old boxes and sheets, and stepped back, wiping the sweat from my brow. My heart was still pounding, but at least he was hidden, for now.

But what next? I couldn’t just leave him there forever. Someone would find him eventually. I needed to cover my tracks. I went back to the apartment, scrubbing every inch of the floor where the blood had been, bleaching everything, cleaning like my life depended on it—because it did.

I took his phone, wiped it clean, and threw it into the river that runs through the city. Let the currents take it far away, out of reach. I burned the clothes I wore, the towels I used, everything that could link me to what happened.

By the time I was done, the sun was coming up. The city was waking up, and it felt like I was waking up too, but to a nightmare I couldn’t escape. Kiran was gone, and I was the reason why. I stood there, looking out over the river, and realized that no matter how well I’d hidden him, I couldn’t hide from myself.

But for now, he’s in that basement, under piles of dust and forgotten things, just like I hope this will be one day. Forgotten. Hidden away where no one will ever think to look.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.