Was It A Murder?

A young man walked down the pavement on a crisp and cold night in London, England. His tall figure cast black silhouettes from the artificial amber glow of streetlamps. It was that particular time in late January where there was no more frost or snow, just biting cold air in a completely empty atmosphere.

The man’s breath formed coils of mist with every exhalation and he slid his trembling hands into the pockets of his coat to maintain some warmth. The street was practically empty and his footsteps echoed around him, only interrupted by the low hum of a passing car. He wasn’t completely alone after all.

The man didn’t know where he was going, all he knew was that he’d been out all day, a rare thing for him. He took out his phone to check the time, find a place to go, talk to someone, do anything to procrastinate away from the fact that he would end up where he dreaded going, but the lock screen was painful enough to make him shove it back in his pocket. He had to go home.

Home! Typically defined as the place where you live permanently, but it was so much more than that. A soft place to land at the end of the day that supports us and provides us shelter.

To the man on the street, Nick Marais, his flatmate Ryan Carters was home. Until he wasn’t.

As he took the long way to his flat, Nick passed an alley. A common sight in the part of London he was in but after the night before, it gave him a completely different feeling.

A painful stab of recollection shot through Nick’s mind. The events had tormented his head so many times that he didn’t know whether he could trust their accuracy, or if his perception had changed the way the events unfolded. Either way, it was clear. His flatmate, his best friend, his HOME, Ryan Michael Carters, was dead.

Ryan was often in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a charming quality that often resulted in entertaining stories to tell his friends. He was a genuinely good person.

“Maybe that’s why he got singled out as a victim…” Nick thought to himself.   He then realised he was standing next to the alley looking ahead onto the road. So naturally, he looked into the lane and froze.

He saw it again. The lifeless eyes, the barely conscious body, the tangled hair, the blood. That was the most vivid memory of all. Nick found himself curled up in a corner, not knowing how they both ended up like this, unable to move, but out of the corner of his eye, saw the crimson trail of his friend’s life weaving around the cobbled stones of the alley and down a drain.

Nick saw Ryan’s hand twitching, those last moments of resistance and hope, that something or someone would be able to save him. Then it stopped. That was the last time Nick Marais saw Ryan Carters alive.