Eyes that never SMILE.

"Just another suicide case. Nothing to see really."

You'll be the judge of that.

Welcome, you must be the new detective. I'm guessing this is your first case. No problem, I'm Maya, I'm your guide. The scene sets in a teenage girls bedroom. The darkness, a thick fog, in the room. The hair at the back of your neck stands, not because of the humidity but for your thirst for Justice.

"Geez, open the blinds. What is this? A horror movie."

You roll your eyes at the extra large police cop, Berny. You're new here, but you already know that you two wouldn't roll.

The ray of light rushes in. No posters, no pictures, no emotion, only the midnight wall. There's no other furniture apart from the neatly made bed with only one pillow and the empty bedside stool.

The dead body is on the tile. Her bones poked her skin at the joints, long brown hair scattered like a mat, parched tears on her slender face. She's pretty but you don't notice that.

"Who found the body?" you ask.

"Mum. Said she found the body this morning, around seven. Wanted to wake her up for breakfast but found the dead body." The brunette, Aubrey, raises a medication bottle in a plastic bag. "And an empty bottle of her meds, probably the cause of get death."

"What are the medications for?"

"Anxiety."

"Every day aproximately 123 Americans die from suicide." Berney leaves his position at the door and walks towards the body. " I know you're new to this, but there's nothing special about this case. Let's just wrap this investigation up, some of us have families to visit this Christmas."

****

Fourty-two days ago...

It was your typical Saturday afternoon. There was not a single cloud in the sky. The laughter of children playing on the street lightened the atmosphere and the two teenage girls chatted away in Chloe's room.

Chloe was on her bed; as she stared at the ceiling, her long brown hair swept the floor. "You're right, maybe I should repaint."

The room was bright purple, with posters of Shawn Mendes and there was a heavy smell of bubble gum.

"I'll paint it black like you said. We are going to be in college soon and purple won't do." Chloe looks over at her best friend in the beanbag chair. "Are you even listening?"

"Remember when we read the article on depression, for our school project?"

Chloe nods.

"It got me thinking, what if I know someone that is depressed. You know so they get help." Her best friend gets on her feet and starts pacing. "Who do I know that's usually feeling down, irritable, fatigued, had a change in appetite...Why's your face like that, Chloe. Did you think of someone?"

"Am I depressed? I'm not," Chloe said pinching her elbow.

"We can do an online depression test?"

They entered the key terms in the search engine.

Her best friend said, "Question 1: Do you have little interest in doing things?"

Chloe folds her hand "I don't."

" But... you haven't been wanting to do anything lately."

"Question four: Trouble falling asleep or sleeping too much."

"I think I sleep okay."

"Didn't you say that you had trouble sleeping?"

"Yes, that's because I'm usually stargazing."

"When you're meant to sleep? Almost everyday a week?"

The girls analyse each question.

"Question ten: Do you ever think about suicide or self harm?"

"Never."

"I'll kill you, if you ever think of suicide."

"And finish quiz."

"What's the result?" Chloe said and got on her feet.

"Don't freak out. It's Moderate Depression to Severe Depression."

"Am I really..."

"I don't know for sure. I know you should see a medical personnel. Only they can say for sure."



Thirty- five days ago...

In the living room, Chloe's parents were sitterd on the blue cushion sofa, Chloe on the armchair and her best friend was standing beside the arm chair.

Her mum said, "You want to tell us something, sweetie?"

Chloe looked at her best friend. The blonde nodded and held her hand.

"You can do this, Chloe," she whispered.

"Mom, Dad, I need help."

****

You, Aubrey, Berney and a few other officers are in the boardroom, each of you with Chloe's case file.

You pace back and forth. "Why would she commit suicide? What's the motive?"

"Motive? Isn't that obvious. She just got out of a psychiatric hospital. Case solved," Berney says.

Aubrey adjusts her glasses before scanning the case file. "It might not be that simple."

" There's no sign of forced entry. No one heard anything. There was no sign of struggle. How can it be murder? Let's just wrap this up."

"Her parents don't think she could commit suicide."

Berney slams the case file on the table. "Aubrey, no one thinks anyone can commit suicide till they do. The friends and family always find it hard to believe. They try to think of another reason. Murder, really? They want us to chase after nothing, to get justice for someone who took their own life."

You glide into your seat. "Aubrey, your report."

"Yes. Chloe didn't really have a lot of close relationships. Besides, the father and mother, I have been able to contact the best friend and the Psychiatrist, Mr. Dave. They would be coming in for questioning today."

"That's all?"

" Yes. Those were the only close contacts of the victim. I'm trying to contact other neighbours, apart from the ones on the scene. Also class mates, anyone really who could give us some kind of information."

"All of this, only to prove me right," Berney whispers.

You say, "Aubrey, when you question them try to find out what reason the victim might have had to commit suicide."

"Yes, detective," she says and walks out.

Few minutes later, another officer walks in.

"Detective, they found the suicide note."

"Where?"

"It was in the victims pocket."

You read the note through the plastic bag.

You might consider me weak for taking my life. Maybe I am. But this took me great courage. .

I used to be happy once. Want nothing but to live another day, to breathe again, to smile again, to eat again. I used to be happy once.

But now I've come to the conclusion, that I need to die. You see I used 'need', pointing to the fact that, this is something I must do to live. To be happy. To be free.

And I haven't felt free in a long time. I CRAVE it.

At the back of the folded piece of paper, there's another note.

Thank you, Dr. Dave, my Comrade, for the help. Without you I'm afraid this, wouldn't have been possible. Thank you for the supply.

If perharps, like the Indians believe we get another life. Then, I promise to REPAY YOU.

Dr. Dave?

"Get it to the lab, let them analyse the writing." You hand back the plastic bag to the Greg.

Berney slacks into his chair. "Maybe they might be something to this case, after all."

"I'll go find Aubrey. It looks like we have a suspect to question."

You walk into questioning room, to see a blonde. Her hair packed into a messy bun, with the most intriguing pair of blue eyes you've ever seen.

"Ah. Detective, you're here."

Aubrey words snap you out of the trance and you slouch against the grey wall beside her.

" Where were you the night Chloe committed suicide?"

"I was in New york. I got my admission letter from Harvard, so my dad and I went there for..." She pinches her ears. "I was only supposed to be gone a few days. If I had known, I..."

Aubrey passes her the tissue box.

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

"I went over to her house before leaving. I didn't talk with her after that. I had a really busy week."

"Do you ever notice anything that hinted that she was going to commit suicide."

"The Chloe I knew never thought about suicide. It's not something she would do."

"The Chloe you knew?"

"Yes, she's been acting different since she got admitted. But I didn't really say anything, since the last time..."

"Last time?"

"Before she got discharged, I noticed something was wrong. I told Dr. Dave—"

"Dr. Dave?" you ask.

"Yes, ever since she's got to the hospital, her sentence always started with 'Dr. Dave said'. I told him that there's something wrong, but he didn't listen to me. I know Chloe, I know her better than anyone else. We've been best friends since middle school. I tried to explain it to him, that he should let her stay a few more days, to examine her, do more tests, to be sure. But all he did was revoke my visiting pass. Now she's dead, if he had just listened to me. Maybe..." Her now pink earlobe sighed as the tears she fought so had to keep at bay came sprinting out.

"Do you know why she committed suicide?"

"I've been thinking it over, but I don't know why...Was there a suicide note?"

"That information is confidential."

" Her mom told me that they found an empty med container, and I'm guessing that might the cause...of her death. Did she really want to commit suicide or was she addicted to that drug?

Of all the ways to commit suicide?"

"I can't say, sorry."

"Okay, please just find out the truth," the blonde says and walks out.

"What do you think?" you ask.

" She was in a different state when the incident took place, she's clear. But from what she said, Dr. Dave seems fishy."

You stand up straight and shove your hands on your pocket. "They found the suicide note."

"Really."

You take a seat beside Aubrey. " It's like we found our prime suspect and it checks out with what she said. Call in, Dr. Dave."

"Where were you on the night of Chloe's suicide?" Aubrey ask.

You look at the man across the iron table in a blue seat. He has perfect short brown curls or maybe it's just the illusion of the dim light.

"I was at home," he said with folded hands.

"You have an alibi ?"

" I was home alone. I left work early, maybe around seven and I was home all night."

"So basically no. Who is this victim to you?"

"My patient. She was one of my favourite patients. She originally came in for depression but I later diagnosed her with Severe Anxiety, not depression."

"You were her doctor, did you ever tag her as suicidal."

"I didn't. In fact, her committing suicide was a massive shock to me. Yes, she had severe anxiety but she didn't have any history of self harm or suicidal thoughts. I've had numerous sessions with her, but nothing ever hinted suicide."

"You prescribed this drug for her?" Aubrey says as she glides the empty medicine bottle across the table.

"Yes, I did. It was the most suitable drug for her illness."

"Her best friend asked you not to discharge her but you waved it off."

He leans in. " She did, but I'm her doctor. I'm the one with the degree. From my expertise, there was nothing stopping her from being discharged."

"Did you listen to what she had to say?"

"I didn't. There was no need and that wasn't a misconduct."

"Why did you revoke her visiting pass?"

"Chloe had severe anxiety. I couldn't afford the negative energy, it would just aggravate her or cause panic attacks."

"Did you perhaps know the reason why she committed suicide."

"I have no idea."

"Now that you know that Chloe committed suicide, most likely with the drugs you prescribed and only few days after you discharged her, don't you feel accountable for her death."

"I'm an expert in my field and I gave her expert care. If I could go back, I wouldn't change any of my actions. So to answer your question, I don't feel accountable. You're not possibly insinuating that I did this. What would I gain from her death?"

In perfect sync, you and Aubrey slouch back into the chair and cross your hands. "That's what we'd like to know," you both say.

***

Twenty–one days ago.

The blonde girl walks into the ward B312. The walls were white, she stared at her reflection on the tiles as she walked towards the bed. You probably already guessed it, the cotton bed spread were white too and the patient was in a white long sleeve patient robe.

"You look better today, Chloe," the blonde says looking at the shell of her friend.

Chloe said, "Mr. Dave says I can go home today. He says I'm better now. He also—"

"I thought he said you would stay a few more weeks after the last panic attack."

"Yes, but I'm better now."

"How do you know you're better now? Do you feel better?"

"I...don't know," Chloe says as she pinches get elbow.

"I'm your best friend and I love you. Chloe, I want the best for you. You had a panic attack just few weeks ago. I was so scared. I don't want to feel that way, again. Are you actually better? "

Chloe wiped her tears with her sleeve. "I don't like being here...I just want to go home."

"Is that why you're pretending. This place is meant to help you."

"I only keep feeling worse."

" Aha! You said it yourself. Why go home, if you're not fine. Don't worry, I'm here wth you. I'll go talk to Dr. Dave," the best friend said and dashed out the door.

She saw him walk out of a ward and runs after him.

"I don't think you should discharge Chloe yet."

"Why?" he asked, halting in his tracks.

"I know Chloe. I just don't think—"

"It's not in your place to think. I'm her doctor, I know what I'm doing. "

"I'm her best friend. I know her better than anyone else. I'm the one who got her to seek help in the first place. I only want the best for her."

"Are you a doctor? No. Did you graduate from medical school or do you have years of experience? No. This is my field and I don't appreciate your attitude . I'm revoking your visiting pass. "

"You can't."

"I can and I just did. The less people around her, the better. If you excuse me, I have patients to attend to."

***

You sit on the table in the office room, with your team. Your thumb and index finger pinch the bridge of your nose. "What does the autopsy report say again?"

You have a throb in your head, maybe it's because of your failure to get Justice or the darn shimmering Christmas lights.

Aubrey quickly swallows the banana milkshake. "No sign of struggle. No sign of abuse. She died from Xanax overdose."

Grey says, "The analysis of the suicide note is back. Chloe indeed wrote it. There was no sign of coercion, she wrote it willingly."

You get on your feet and start pacing. "What motive would Mr. Dave have? and we don't have any evidence. All we have are assumptions. Yes, she wrote his name in the suicide note, but we have no proof that he actually prescribed those drugs so she can you use it commit suicide. Neither, do we have proof that he encouraged her to commit suicide. It's like everytime we hit a dead end. "

Berney shoves a large French fry down his throat. "Thousands of people die from benzos overdose. That doesn't mean the doctors that prescribed them wanted to kill their patients. It doesn't mean the doctors are drug suppliers."

"What about the diary we found. I mean even her best friends and parents didn't know about it. And she only started writing it after she got out of the hospital. Maybe we can find some clue, something?"

"How many times are we going to go through it, Aubrey. It's all a bunch of nothing. "

"Ya, there's nothing concrete." you say.

8th March, 2018.

Mr. Dave asked me to write down what I'm feeling, to help sort through my thoughts. Mr. Dave says, I'm fine now. Dear diary, what is life? What is love? What is home?

9th March, 2018.

Dear diary, don't you think mayonnaise is weird. It's like you're eating shaving cream with bread. Why did I ever love eating it ?

14th March,2018.

Dear diary, having long hair is stressful. I want to get read of it. Why didn't I cut it earlier.

Aubrey hands you a hamburger. It's probably still warm. McDonald's cheese burger.

"Detective, you should eat something. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, thank you,"ⁿ you say and walk out.

A couple of weeks later...

You walk out of your office with the final report on Chloe's case and drop it with the secretary for filling.

"I hate to say it but you were right, Berney. It was just another suicide case," you say as you pack up your desk.

"Now that the case is closed. I hope you realized that we chased nothing. Months of resources wasted... But you did good, rookie. You did good." He grabs his coat and walks out of the office. "Oh and Merry Christmas!" he shouts.

"It was great working with you, detective." Aubrey gives you a tiny parcel in a blue wrapping. "Have a wonderful Christmas."

"It was not nice working with you, too."

Eventually, you drive home. There's something out of place, but you don't know what. The thought of the unknown keeps you awake, so at few minutes past twelve–it's Christmas–you drive to your office. You didn't switch on the lights but you perfectly maneouvre to your office. You switch on the lights in your office and bring out Chloe's file.

You glance at the clock, it's half past three. You've gone through all the facts, all the clues but you couldn't find anything. Anything that you didn't know before. Your gut says there's something, an unknown? But what?

You grab the beer out of your locker and take a sip. You read Chloe's diary for the thirteenth time this morning.

10th March,2018.

Eyes they follow me. They judge me. They look down on me. Those cold eyes never smiled. The face, yes, I've seen countless times smile. But never The EYES. Only now, could I see. Only now, am I haunted. Haunted by my knowledge. Haunted by the truth knowledge brings. 

12th March, 2018.

The Voice. The Voice do I have on repeat in my head. No, not like when your favourite song is kept on replay on your phone.

 Rather, it's a broken down car radio on a long road trip, stuck on that same annoying station. You can't turn it off. You can't change the station. You can't get down. You're stuck.

I'm STUCK.

13th March, 2018.

The Voice tells me what to do and how to think, even when no one is present.

The scurry print jiggles, then wabbles and black dots clothes your vision. You look back at the beer and you realize someone had drugged it. You stagger out of your chair, your senses struggling to stay awake. Your hand goes to your right back pocket, but it's empty. Someone took your gun. Who?

You glare at the door. You stare long through the shadow. You feel eyes are on you. You expect answers. Then you get it, you see the familiar face and eyes. The face was smiling, then you remembered Chloe's words, 'Eyes that NEVER smile'. And those eyes were not smiling, there were cold.

If you haven't noticed, I've been deceiving you. Like I said in the beginning, I'm Maya, not that you could ever forget it. I killed my best friend.

Motive? You might ask. Chloe did nothing really, it was just time to let her go. It wasn't fun anymore, too easy. I had so much power over her, controlled her, what she does, thinks, wants, needs, is all my directive and she didn't even know it.

At first, it was interesting having so much power over someone, but it got boring.

Then I thought, what else could I do to test my power. I got her to believe she was crazy, made her crazy. Originally, I just wanted her to be locked up in a mental assylum forever.

But he just had to help her, he let her go home. Big mistake.

When she was back home, I realized that it's not fun to play with the same old broken toy.

Then I thought? Why not kill her. Murder would be fun and it was thrilling, still is. I made her want death, made her believe it was the only way. I told her how she should kill herself. I told her what to write in the suicide note. I told her to write his name.I did it all.

I planted the seed, watered it diligently and watched it grow. Although I was in a different state, I was confident that she would commit suicide, exactly when and how I told her.

You're probably thinking, well that's stupid. Why is she telling me this? It won't be much of a Victory, if I didn't taunt you, now would it?

Well, I'm confident that till the end of the earth, that you won't find any evidence pointing to me.

When you wake up tomorrow with a slight concussion, the memory of this night will be hazed. A complete black out.

Thank you, since you helped me get away with murder. Goodbye...for now, detective. And Merry Christmas!

The END.