Bloody Report [AU]—Sulli & Kris
Cold wind greeted her good night, or maybe good morning, when her eyes fluttered open from a deep slumber, skin standing up from the chilly wake up call. Thoughts of nothing made her get up on the edge of the bed to stretch and, like every human would, her hand outstretched towards her eyes to remove excess rheum. But, her hand daubed with red dried liquid prevented her motives. Senses slowly coming back to her and no longer drowsy, she realized it was dry blood. Her hands were not the only victims—tapestries had blots like maps of dark red, her feet felt cold under the floor, pooled with more dried blood, making the big room with forgotten furniture very dreary and dark. Where am I? She thought as she studied her surroundings. The eerie silence has not given her the signal to be in a state of fear just yet. Her silent scoff echoed softly with the singing breeze when she came to realize the random idea that just crossed her mind—of course, no one would exactly know how one ended up in some place without knowledge of it beforehand—unless one was drunk, very drunk, which was not her. Her alcohol tolerance was high enough despite not being a drinker.
Brushing off that funny thought, she just walked over to the desk with a broken lamp near the window. Newspapers and old books covered the fine wood. That wasn’t the only thing that looked old—her eyes flickered over to the date on the nearest newspaper—October 10, 1924. Her hands hovered over the newspaper and picked it up to study the front page. It had a huge picture of a white old house with a big front lawn scattered with debris of something she could not make out of. The headlines read—House of Murder. Reading the content carefully, the writer said that the house was where the murderer died with the residents he killed. Police suspected it to be a suicide attempt. No one knew what the murderer looked like since the man’s face was burned, thus, no one also knew of his identity. Sulli sighed at the old news, thinking it was ridiculous to have such an old newspaper in this day and age—well, unless it was an investigator’s house. However, Sulli could not shake the feeling that the house she was in might be the one in the newspaper.
Cold breeze greeted her again, this time, a little stronger. Her hands outstretched to close the windowsill but a sudden bang of a door teased to suck her soul, making her body frozen at the spot. Also, a faint sound of rain was heard on the other side of the room. Her eyes furrowed because she didn’t know there was another room, or a bathroom. “Sulli,” she heard someone whisper. It wasn’t loud but she heard it quite clearly. Footsteps slowly inching closer to the door, she arrived at the doorway of the bathroom, catching a glimpse of a white arm hanging over a dirty bathtub. Swallowing nothing before entering the room, her eyes widened again. A man, a sleeping man, was lying in the bathtub full with crimson water, or blood even. “Sulli,” the man mumbled again. Her lips quivered when she realized who it was. It was Kris, her co-worker. It must be him because when he was being lazy at work and would dose, she would hear her name come out of his lips.
Coming nearer to turn off the shower from putting more water in the bathtub, she hoisted Kris up to prevent him from drowning with blood. Many girls would swoon over the damp fabric embracing him, making his sculpted body more defined, but not Sulli—well, at least it was not the time to admire someone’s physical features when it was blood covering him, not a swimming pool’s chlorine scent. “Kris?” she managed to say when the man’s head kept bobbling to her as she slowly shook him to awaken. She gasped softly. He couldn’t be—. Sulli quickly looked for a pulse under his jaw. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt a shallow pulse. When she felt a muscle tighten from her grip, she wanted to check if he was really awake. “Open your eyes if you can you hear me.”
