Killer Best Friend

"11pm at Central Park tomorrow, yeah?", slurred Drake drunkenly, occasionally leaning limply on me for support. He had this simper look plastered on his face, which surprisingly made me all riled up. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the bar's ambience, maybe it was the accusing glares we were getting...... I wanted to storm out of the place that instant, getting far away from him too.

"Get a grip! I already said I have plans tomorrow night. Don't drag me into your sudden weird obsession with night activities."

Shoving out of Bistro Bar, i drove back home; annoyed at how a night that was supposed to relive the tension building up in me turned out to be nothing but dull and irritating. It wasn't like i didn't expect this outcome. Drake had been my best friend, to be more specific, only friend since high school. We barely have anything in common: i like leisure days at home listening to music and laying about, while he likes to venture out to clubs and parties of his uncountable circle of friends. I brought him with me to the bar as it was my first time drinking out. A social butterfly like Drake had no problem mingling around with strangers; that is probably why we stuck around with each other for such a long time.

A few weeks passed by fleetingly. Mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, murmurs coming from the television downstairs perked my attention. Why do my parents always blast the volume up so high? Utterly irritated, i staggered downstairs in hopes of lowering the volume to at least be out of ear range from my room. "BREAKING NEWS: body found brutally murdered. Placed carelessly under the bench of Central Park, police have yet to identify......". I stopped dead on track. Central Park? Isn't that the place Drake goes to every week? Come to think about it, Drake has never once told me what in the world he does, going to the park at night where scarcely a single soul could be spotted. This bizarre hobby of his started around a month ago but i couldn't careless as we were both occupied with different things as university students. I could feel the evident pulses ringing through my head, followed by rushes and waves of guilt. How could I, knowing how warm-hearted of a person Drake is, even have the slightest doubt about him?

Yet out of consciousness, I found myself plopping beside my parents in front of the television. February 16th? Phew, the estimated time of death for the body was a few days after our night at the bar. Ha! I knew it! No way would Drake harm even an ant, needless to say end a human being's life.

The sounds of my phone ringing pulled me out of my reverie.

"Hello?"

"Please help me... I don't know what to do anymore.", Drake's voice sobbed over the phone silently, as if he was trying to talk in secret.

"Drake? What happened to you? Are you..."

"Blood! Why is my blouse soaked in blood! I remember wearing it a few days ago and i was nowhere near blood!"

He was practically hysterically breaking down at this point.

"Hey buddy, calm down and explain what exactly occurred alright. Everything will be okay."

"I think it was a few days ago? When i wore the blouse to the bar with you. Remember, the navy blue one i really like? I woke up the next thing in my bed, wearing my pajamas, so i thought u put me in them after sending me home because i was too drunk."

"What do you mean? I left you that night alone at the bar. You were so out of it, being drunk and banging into things."

"Wait what? I don't remember u leaving me alone... Was i really that wasted? The last thing i recalled was you dancing beside me."

Drake seemed clearly as confused as me. Why is he acting like this, pretending to not have a single clue? Yet frankly speaking, i could hear his audibly distressed pants and irregular hiccups.

"Drake... you even invited me to join your weekly activities at the park. 11pm he next day at Central Park, remember?"

"What Central Park? Where even is that place I have never..."

With my mind gradually drifting away, i found myself undoubtedly afraid for my best friend. He genuinely seemed concerned and clueless. With Drake's voice cut out from my mind, i shifted my attention back to the television. A cctv footage from the day of the crime was playing. It was a lanky man in a black blouse. As the footage was zoomed in, i came to realization that the blouse was not actually black, but blue. Navy blue. Hastily hanging up on Drake, i caught the stares from my parents at the corner of my eyes.

"Honey, that figure looked a tad bit too much like Drake, don't you think?", joked my mother, clearly amused by the situation.

Another day had passed by. The intro of the news channel has never been this nerve-wrecking to me.

"Central Park killer arrested at his own home. Drake Baumer, a university student, had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. Having a multiple personality disorder, Drake was said to have no clue about this issue of his until recently being convicted. According to the physiatrist, Drake's other personality submerged most frequently since the start of last month. It has also been proven that Elisa, the murder victim of his was actually his ex girlfriend. However, friends and families have spoken up about them having ended the relationship in good terms, while still remaining great friends until the incident happened. It is said that the other person inside Drake was actually the true murderer of......"

Elisa... poor Elisa. Drake once told me about his hatred for her once when he was drunk, but i just brushed it off and blamed it on the alcohol. They were doing just fine after the breakup! Who could've known, that their best friend were a bottled up killer without they themselves acknowledging it?