Chapter 7: Realisation and Desperation

Ring ring ring—

Aman and Arjun were the closest. Arjun hadn’t come back tonight, but we hadn’t thought much of it.

Aman’s hand shook as he dialed Arjun’s number, the blue light from his phone reflecting on his anxious face. The silence was tense; even the group chat had quieted down. I could see the others waiting, eyes darting between Aman’s phone and the door. For a moment, I wished the call would just go unanswered.

But now that Aman mentioned it, a chill ran through all of us.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over us. My hands started sweating, and even Kabir, who never stopped fidgeting, was frozen in place. Sneha hugged her knees tighter, eyes squeezed shut. I thought I could actually hear my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.

Sure enough, Aman called Arjun’s phone, and the ringtone sounded from the madman outside.

The familiar ringtone—Arjun always used that weird South Indian song—blared from the corridor. The madman jerked, looking down, confused, as if some part of him still recognized the sound. For a second, none of us could move. Aman dropped his phone, mouth open, as the realization set in.

I looked carefully at the madman’s clothes—they really were Arjun’s.

His torn kurta, the faded jeans with that patch of red thread on the pocket—no doubt, those were Arjun’s. Even his old Bata slippers were there, caked with filth but still recognisable. I felt my knees go weak. The familiar became terrifying in that instant.