It was 2:24 am in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. I was bothered by the story my cousin told me, before I enter this college, that the hostel room me and my friend Amir currently staying, has a dark terrifying past. He told me that during his time studying in the college, a male student committed suicide in the kitchen area where our room was. He slit his throat after receiving his “A” Levels result, failing his exams. His body were only found after few hours he went missing, not attending classes when his room mate was about to cook for lunch. His body laid helplessly on the kitchen floor, blood flooding the white tiles while his friend watch in horror and screamed for help. I didn’t want to believe the story but everyone was talking about it and tried their best to avoid being placed in the room. Bad luck for me and Amir, we had to stay in the “haunted room”, as every other rooms were already full.
I got up from my bed and decided to read something cheery that will avoid me from thinking that horror story. Since I am in the same room as Amir, I don’t want to bother him, I’ll be needing the light to read. So I went to the lounge, where the desk and table lamp were. The desk was against the wall, right next to our bedroom and to the far left was the kitchen. As I was reading, at times, I couldn’t help my self but to peek a look to the kitchen from where I was sitting. The kitchen has no door to it and the lamp on the kitchen ceiling was broken, so it was really dark. A cold soft breeze suddenly gave me goosebumps and I saw Amir was walking to the kitchen.
Me: Amir? Where are you going? If you go to the kitchen please make me a cup of coffee.
Amir: He was not answering. But he gave me a slow nod.
Me: Thank you.
I heard Amir switched on the water heater. I was humming happily. After for about 20 minutes, my coffee still had not arrived. I thought he must have fallen asleep in the kitchen.
Me: Amir what took you so long? Where’s my coffee?
Amir: Still not replying.
I was so angry I had to walked my self to the kitchen to see him. To my horror, Amir was not in the kitchen. But the water heater was still hot and on. A chilling cold fear crept down to my spine, my legs froze and that was when I saw a hideous bloody dark skinned, white eyed and long haired ghost below the sink tub where the demon slowly opened the cupboard door. Two eggs from the tray had been eaten by the demon. I couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear but with a little prayers, I managed to release my self with pain, by pouring the boiling water from the water heater to my left hand. I broke free and ran to my bedroom. I slammed the door recklessly, waking up Amir, who was startled from his deep sleep and was very angry with me.
The day after, I didn’t attend any classes. I was struck with fever for five days. And my wounded hand was well taken care off with thick bandages. It took me sometimes to tell my lecturers and friends what was happening that night. It was all a mystery. Who was that person I asked to make a coffee for me that night? I moved to another college a month later after I kept seeing the demon staring at me every night, sitting by the kitchen window and at the end of my bed.