Mysterious Roommate

We weren't really an item. Well, at least not typically. We were just really close pals with occasional perks. That's why we shared a flat, but not a life. That is until he was slain. Actually, that's not accurate. He wasn't slain, he was murdered.

But let me begin from the beginning. My name is Emma Collins, and I was an ordinary office woman working at a regular day job that usually paid the bills. The only peculiar aspect of my life was my roommate for my average apartment. His name was Benjamin Thompson, and he was, well, peculiar. We stumbled upon each other one autumn evening five years ago. I was taking a stroll, he was lying in some shrubs with so many bruises on his body he looked like a giant purple dinosaur. I don't enjoy witnessing innocent creatures suffer, so I helped him back to my apartment, and like most strays, he stayed there.

That's how I discovered how unusual his habits were. Benjamin was a night owl who dragged himself in during the early hours of the morning and often collapsed on the couch. That's where I usually found him, if I found him at all. Sometimes he would leave for a few days and return to crash for a few more days. Other times, he would be awake at all hours of the day thanks to a gallon of coffee and unwavering determination. I'm sure you're wondering why he had such peculiar hours, and that was because of his profession. He informed me that he was a sort of advisor, and when I found him, he had just encountered some misfortune in a negotiation. That's how he managed to contribute his share of the apartment rent. I suggested a career change, but he argued that he had been doing it for so long that he didn't possess any other abilities.

Which now brings us to the gentleman himself. Benjamin embodied traditional values in his demeanor. He would open doors for me and perform exaggerated gestures of chivalry. I must admit it made me feel special, and that's why our relationship sometimes exceeded the boundaries of mere roommates.

Despite all his courteous manners and charming peculiarities, there was one aspect of him that I couldn't tolerate, and that was his associate, Victor. Victor was tall, pale, and inhospitable. He adorned himself in a dark overcoat with a long trailing garment and sported a faded black fedora. It lent him a strikingly handsome appearance, but I couldn't overlook his aloof demeanor and cold gaze. I hoped he wasn't the representative face of their Public Relations division.

During my first encounter with Victor, Benjamin attempted to initiate a handshake between us. I extended my hand, but Victor merely sneered and turned away. Benjamin brought him to the apartment a few more times before realizing that Victor and I didn't get along, and thereafter, the visits ceased.

There was one final peculiar thing about Benjamin that occurred shortly after we agreed to share the apartment. He pulled me aside and handed me a small metallic container. "If you ever find out that something has happened to me, you must take this box and follow the instructions, alright?"

"What kind of instructions?" I asked.

He shook his head. "You'll understand when the time comes, but don't hesitate to follow the instructions inside. Clear?"

His peculiar demeanor led me to believe it was all a jest, so I treated the entire affair as a joke and stashed the box beneath my bed. How mistaken I was, and how I yearned for the opportunity to cherish the moments we shared.

Those idyllic days of peculiar schedules with my eccentric flatmate came to an abrupt conclusion three years after our encounter. It was a Friday afternoon, and I was completing my tasks at the office. It was one of those workplaces filled with cubicles where the buzz of activity was merely the malfunctioning water cooler. I clicked and clacked my way through the final few sentences of a document I was typing for a boss who despised anything related to keyboards.

I clacked the final word, leaned back, and let out a sigh as I stretched. "And that wraps up another thrilling day of office labor," I pondered.

A head peered over a partition of my confinement. It belonged to a fellow captive named Daniel, whom I suspected had developed feelings for me. Perhaps it was the occasional flower on my desk or the wistful smile he wore. If I had reciprocate those feelings, I might have encouraged his advances, but I couldn't overlook his constant presence around me. If we had embarked on a romantic relationship, I imagined he would be one of those incessant-texting boyfriends, always questioning my whereabouts and companions. Not a healthy bond.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?" he inquired.

"None that I'm aware of, and I'm content with that," I responded, aiming to deter any potential plans he might have had for me.

His smile faltered slightly. It appeared that I had averted trouble just in time. "I see. I was hoping we could go out to watch a movie."

I let out a sigh and sat up straight in my chair. "Not this weekend. There's nothing playing that I'm interested in, and I might have to perform a thorough cleaning of my apartment. It seems I'm behind on dusting, washing dishes, vacuuming, mopping, and any other cleaning tasks ending in 'ing.' It may take me until next year to complete everything."

Daniel scoffed. "Well, best of luck," he retorted and vanished from sight.

Thus concluded that Friday afternoon. I returned to the apartment only to find Benjamin absent. As mentioned earlier, it wasn't entirely uncommon, but this time he had been gone for nearly a week. I contemplated at what point I should involve the authorities and file a missing person report when a knock resounded on the door.

Peering through the peephole, I observed a uniformed officer. That was prompt service, I must say. I opened the door. "May I help you?" I asked.

He presented a wallet with a badge, swiftly concealing it beneath his coat before I could get a good look. "Officer Phil from the Third Precinct. Is this the abode of Benjamin Thompson?"

My heart raced. "Yes, why?" I asked anxiously.

"I'm afraid something has transpired involving him. Are you his relative?"

Disturbing images and various possibilities raced through my mind. "No, I'm merely his cohabitant. What has occurred to him?" I asked, filled with dread.

"Mr. Thompson has been assassinated. His lifeless body was discovered a few hours ago near the river," he revealed. My jaw dropped, and I stumbled backward. The officer entered the apartment and caught me, guiding me toward the couch where I sank down, overcome with numb disbelief. "I apologize for this, but we will require a statement from you at the station," he informed me.

"What? Oh, yes, absolutely," I remarked robotically before getting up and stumbling toward my room. Just give me a second so I can get dressed and get a jacket. I was still wearing my uncomfortable work clothes.

"Of course," the officer replied with kindness.

I entered my room and shut the door behind me. It was then that the officer's words struck me with full force, and I collapsed onto the floor in a torrent of uncontrollable sobs and denial. Benjamin, my dear Benjamin, was gone. I couldn't fathom accepting the fact that he had been taken from me, that something dreadful had befallen him, and I would never see him again.

My eyes widened. "Something has befallen him..." I murmured softly, uttering aloud the same words he had used when he handed me that container all those years ago. Seated as I was, my gaze fell upon the space beneath my bed, and the container stared back at me. A glimmer of hope surged within me, a flicker that perhaps this was a cruel jest of his, and that the container held the punchline. Hastily, I crawled toward it and noticed fresh fingerprints upon its dusty surface. My hands trembled as I struggled with the clasp, and with a slight click, the lid popped open. Inside lay a slip of paper and a ring that Benjamin had worn incessantly. He must have placed the ring inside the container just before he embarked on his ill-fated endeavor.

My hands quivered as I unfolded the paper, revealing a message written upon it.

Dearest Emma,

In the event that you are perusing these words, either you have taken a forbidden glimpse or an unfortunate incident has befallen me. If the former, I implore you to return this missive to its rightful place and refrain from inspecting it until the latter circumstance arises. If, indeed, an adverse event has transpired, then you find yourself in jeopardy.

For a moment, my heart ceased its rhythm, yet I persisted in my reading.

Regrettably, I was unable to disclose these matters to you while I still breathed, for I desired to shield you from involvement. However, with my presumed demise, you are now entangled in my predicaments, and I apologize for the burdens you must bear. Yet, understand that there is no alternative course of action. Take this band to the destination inscribed at the conclusion of this letter and remain concealed within the warehouse until nightfall descends. Regardless of circumstances, even if someone you hold dear entreats you to do otherwise, you must reach that warehouse. Should you be perusing this missive during the nocturnal hours, don the ring and offer a prayer. Pray for me as well, I beseech you.

With love, Benjamin

I stifled my sobs, my hand instinctively covering my mouth. He was truly gone, and through this letter, he had forewarned me of an undisclosed peril. Startled, I jerked when a resounding knock resonated from the door. "Miss, are you alright?" the officer's voice reached my ears.

"I-I'm fine, just-" I paused, my gaze drawn to the letter in my trembling hands. Benjamin had urged me to hasten to the warehouse, and the sun was steadily descending. My room came into focus, and my eyes caught sight of the window and the nearby fire escape. I could descend through it and swiftly make my way to the warehouse...

Hold on a moment, why on earth was I evading an officer? All he intended was to escort me to the station for a statement. Nonetheless, Benjamin's note had ignited a sense of suspicion within me, prompting me to tread cautiously. Sneaking over to the door, I cautiously opened a crack and peered at the officer. He meticulously examined the apartment, probing into every crevice and recess like a seasoned burglar. Nothing overtly peculiar about that. He was likely taking a proactive approach to the investigation.

I donned my coat, swiftly stashed the letter and ring within a pocket, and emerged from my room. "I am prepared," I declared, addressing the officer.

Startled, the officer jerked, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun, which he swiftly aimed in my direction. Taken aback, I recoiled, my back colliding with the wall adjacent to my bedroom door. However, he soon relaxed and holstered his weapon with a smile. "Apologies for that. It's a customary reflex of mine."

"That's a rather disconcerting reflex," I remarked. Even without the reverberating echoes of Benjamin's instructions resounding in my mind, I felt an aversion to accompanying an individual who possessed such a trigger-happy disposition.

"No harm done," he assured me. He turned towards the front door, paused momentarily, and then pivoted back towards me. "Oh, would you happen to know where a ring that belonged to Benjamin was?" he asked.

My heart raced. "N-no, why?" I stammered.

"We suspect he may have pilfered some valuable jewelry, and that particular ring is part of the missing collection," he divulged.

Unconsciously, I reached into my pocket and clutched the ring, feigning astonishment. "A jewel thief? When did he supposedly steal it?"

"It was about two years ago, but that doesn't matter. Let us proceed to the station for further questioning, and we will ensure your prompt return," he proposed. The timeframe mentioned by the officer conflicted with my own observations, as I had seen Benjamin wearing the ring for far longer than two years. The officer was deliberately deceiving me, and I harbored no desire to uncover the motivations behind his falsehood.