Kyla’s Secret

It was all Kyla could do to pull herself out of the hypnotic trance she’d fallen into. It felt like she had been staring down at the young woman on the floor, who was bleeding from the head, for hours, while the events that led up to it had taken just seconds. Kyla was then aware of her ragged breathing and the pounding of her heart. Her legs felt shaky, and she was torn between screaming for help, checking the woman for a pulse, and simply collapsing to the floor. Shakily, she bent down and nudged the woman. “Hey.” No response. “Hey,” she said a little louder. In that split second, she wished she were a nurse so she could easily seek out the girl’s pulse if she had one. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to move closer and hoped to hell she could feel one somewhere within her wrist or neck. If she were alive, she could call for help and explain what had happened. The girl’s breath reeked of alcohol. Tests would no doubt prove that she was drunk out of her mind, and Kyla should then be cleared in self-defense. She was horrified not to feel any pulse. She finally slumped down next to the girl, whose half-open eyes and pale skin began to take on a grayish color. On one last hopeful note, she lowered her cheek toward the woman’s mouth, hoping against hope to feel a breath of air against it, but she didn’t feel a thing. She shakily got back up to her feet and grabbed her cell phone. And then she froze. What would she say? That a drunk girl she’d never seen before came and accused her of trying to steal her boyfriend barely an hour after arriving in California? No matter how many times Kyla tried to remind and assure herself that the girl was drunk and that she wouldn’t be charged with any wrongdoing, what if she was? What if she was charged with murder? Even involuntary manslaughter would be a nightmare that would ruin her life. But the dead body on the floor in the middle of her dorm room wasn’t going to magically disappear on its own. Maybe—just maybe—she could fix it so it never happened, even though it most certainly had happened. She’d have to live with the horrible memory and the guilt, even if she certainly hadn’t meant to kill the girl when defending herself, but she wouldn’t have to live with the courtroom drama and maybe even a number of years in prison. But what if the girl was still alive? What if she had the faintest pulse that only a medical professional could detect with the proper equipment? “Don’t kid yourself,” she softly told herself. “Self-defense or not, you killed the girl.” Kyla studied the girl a moment longer. She had straight, dark, shoulder-length hair, a nose piercing, and a face that was heavily made up. She was clad in a torn black T-shirt, jeans, and black high-tops. She wondered what she had been like when she was sober, who she was, where she came from, and what she’d been studying. Kyla weakly managed to get herself seated on the bed. She put a hand to her chest, closed her eyes, and willed her heartbeat to slow down so she could think straight. As quickly as she could reasonably do so, she mentally weighed the pros and cons of calling the police versus not calling them. If she called them, it might or might not ruin her life. If she could manage to dump the body somewhere—as awful as that would make her feel—she would be OK as long as it was never discovered and somehow tied to her. But would it be tied to her if it was? Could it be? Kyla wondered if her fingerprints could possibly be on the girl or on her clothing, and if they could be lifted if they were. Her prints weren’t present in any crime database, but what if they found prints and conducted tests on everyone at the university—or at least those in the dorm? So many what-ifs ran through Kyla’s mind. But if life was supposed to be all about taking risks, then she would risk disposing of the body and then trying to get on with her life. She’d rather feel bad about the incident throughout the rest of her life than see her career come to an end, and worse, end up behind bars for years. But how the hell did one dispose of a body in a college dorm? She looked down at the dead girl. The girl was probably a few inches shorter than she was and a little over a hundred pounds. But Kyla herself wasn’t much over a hundred pounds, and carrying that much weight down the hall, onto an elevator, then out of the building to God knew where wasn’t going to be an easy task at all. She wished she could dismember the body—as much as the thought of it disgusted and terrified her—but she knew there was no way she could do that. She had to figure out how to get rid of it as a whole. She knew she couldn’t turn to anyone for help, no matter how trustworthy they might seem, and so she was on her own. It suddenly hit her that someone else could come to her door for any reason, and she then rose to her feet and began to slide the body under her bed, thankful that the girl wasn’t tall or obese. In that case, she’d surely be dialing 911. By the time she got her underneath the bed, she was gasping for breath. Next, she rearranged the blanket so that no one could see under the bed. She would need to get the girl out of the room as quickly as possible before she began to decompose and smell. A knock on the door nearly sent her flying through the ceiling. Oh God. Now? Trying to get a hold of herself and not appear rattled in any way, she willed her breathing to be steady and opened the door. “Hi,” said a soft-spoken strawberry blond. “Hi,” Kyla said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m Jennifer. Have you seen Meagan?” It then occurred to her that she had no idea who the dead girl was. Could she be Meagan? “Meagan?” “Yeah, black One Direction tee, black hair, nose earring.” Hoping to hell she still looked natural, she said, “No, I don’t know anyone here yet other than Hillary. I just arrived from Hawaii to do an article on campus life.” “Oh,” Jennifer said with a smile, “I thought you looked a little older.” Gee, thanks a lot, Kyla thought bitterly. I’m sure I just aged a decade after today’s nightmare. “Ok, well, sorry to bother you.” “No problem,” Kyla said, putting forth her most sincere smile. She closed the door and let her body drop onto the bed once more as a lungful of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding escaped her lips. With her back leaning against the wall, she put her face in her hands and tried to tune out the scattering of voices—some loud, some not—coming from the other side of her door. Then an idea came to her. She was to pick up the car that the magazine was to provide for her that day. She would do that now, along with some shopping. She jumped online and checked the local bus route. If she were quick about it, she could catch the bus out front in less than a few minutes. On the bus barely ninety seconds later, she wondered if she looked as wound up as she felt as she waited to get off at the car rental company. Less than a half hour later, Kyla felt a little better to be behind the wheel of the car rather than on a public bus. She headed to the closest Wal-Mart she could find online. Aware of the many surveillance cameras that could be anywhere at any time, she piled her hair up under the newsboy felt hat she’d brought with her and wore a hot pink shirt she planned to dispose of, in case her clothing was ever searched. She knew that if the body were ever discovered, the large container she purchased might be traced back to this particular store somehow. Things had a way of being amazingly traceable and turning up amazing clues these days. She pulled on a pair of gloves and left her coat in the car. She knew it might seem odd not to take it on such a chilly day that was quickly transitioning into the evening, but that was OK. Doing her best to keep her face down without looking suspicious or crashing into people or objects, she quickly headed into the store. She didn’t want to appear to be in a hurry, but she didn’t want to take her sweet time either. She bought some rope, a dolly, and the largest plastic container she could find that you couldn’t see through. Where she became uncomfortable was at the register. The cashier seemed to take forever, and she knew that if there were any cameras around, that was more likely where they would be. Back at the dorm, she carried the bulky container and hoped to hell no one would see her along the way. No one did. Exhaling a sigh of relief once she closed the door to her room behind her, she scrambled to pull the body out from under the bed before rigor mortis had a chance to set in. She’d once read it usually didn’t start setting in until three hours after death and usually lasted for twenty-four hours. After she completed the task at hand, she would then take on the seemingly impossible task of disposing of the container undetected. Although she was already exhausted, Kyla worked with determination. She glanced back and forth between the dead girl and the container. If she bent the girl’s knees and hips as far as they would go, she should fit inside the container.