The unwanted silence. ( ch 2)

Chapter 2: The Kulathupuzha Estate Bungalow

We couldn't bring ourselves to drive back to Karthik’s uncle’s bungalow. The very thought of returning to that place made my skin crawl with phantom terror. In our blind panic, we initially pointed the car toward the city, desperate to reach the safety of our college dorms. But as the miles ticked by, the crushing reality of what we had left behind in the dark soil of Arippa hit us. We needed a cover story. We needed time.
Rahul pulled out his phone while Karthik kept his eyes glued to the dark, winding road. We decided to drive roughly 20 kilometers past the area, find an isolated place to stay for the night, and leave in the morning. When daylight broke, our plan was to go to the police and report that someone had attacked us at the uncle’s bungalow, ransacked the place, and taken Tanvi hostage. We would pretend we searched frantically through the night and only managed to escape by fleeing to this new estate.
Rahul frantically searched online on his phone while the car hummed through the forest fog. Fortunately—or so we thought at the time—one secluded property still had rooms available: The Kulathupuzha Estate Bungalow. Rahul pointed out to the boys that the prices for the rooms were suspiciously low—dirt cheap for an estate property—but given our desperate situation, no one cared to question why.
When we pulled up to the property around 8:15 PM, the atmosphere was suffocatingly heavy. Stepping inside the dimly lit reception area, I immediately noticed something deeply unsettling: every single window and mirror facing the front desk was draped over with heavy dark cloths. For a fleeting second, my exhausted, fried brain tried to rationalize it as some quirky local tradition or superstition.
Two people managed the entire property: an elderly caretaker whom everyone addressed as Raghav Chacha, and his young grandson, Vaishnav.
Vaishnav handed over the keys with a blank expression—two rooms booked for the four of us, one for me, and one for the three boys. Before handing over the keys, Raghav Chacha gave us a chillingly strict warning:
"Eat your food immediately. The kitchen closes sharply at 9:30 PM. And whatever you do, do not open your doors after 10:00 PM. Stay inside."
The boys chuckled, brushing it off. Rahul, Karthik, and especially Abhinand acted shockingly relaxed about the whole thing. Abhinand, in particular, was unnervingly cool, showing zero trace of panic or remorse, as if we hadn't just buried a human being a few hours ago.
Me? I was completely shattered. I hadn't spoken a single word since we left the forest.
When I finally stepped into my assigned room, the silence closed in around me. I locked the door, stripped off my dirt-stained jacket, and let the dam break. I sat on the edge of the bed and cried until my throat burned, feeling entirely hollow.
After what felt like hours of agonizing silence, trying to compose myself to discuss our next steps and align our false alibis with the boys, I quietly opened my door and walked down the dimly lit hallway toward their room.
The door to their room was cracked open just an inch. I raised my hand to knock, but the words cutting through the gap froze me completely in my tracks. It wasn't Karthik or Rahul whispering about police timelines or cell towers. It was Karthik's voice—laced with venom, hissing furiously at Abhinand.
"You idiot! You completely ruined everything! We didn't bring them here for a peaceful college trip. We brought them here to hand them over to those buyers, to make a fortune! And now, because of your stupid mess back at the forest, the whole plan is completely blown!"
Rahul’s voice murmured in fierce agreement, chewing Abhinand out for letting things spiral out of control.
The blood drained entirely from my face. My knees buckled.
The trip. The secluded route. The isolation. It hadn't been a spontaneous getaway. Tanvi and I hadn't just stumbled into a nightmare—we had been delivered straight into the hands of predators.
A wave of pure, paralyzing terror surged through my veins. Without thinking, I backed away from their door, spun around, and sprinted down the corridor back to my room. I slammed the door shut and threw every lock and latch into place. Frantic and shaking uncontrollably, I grabbed the heavy wooden study table beside the bed, dragged it across the floor, and rammed it hard against the door, barricading myself inside.
I curled up on the floor behind the table, pulling my knees to my chest as the tears spilled over again. Sitting in the dark, trapped behind makeshift wooden barricades, I realized a horrifying truth: I wasn't just hiding from the law, and I wasn't just running from a ghost. I was trapped inside a nightmare—a dark, inescapable puzzle box where no one was coming to save me, and there was no way out alive.

Then, through the fog of pure panic, my heart gave a sudden, violent thud. My bag.

​In the rush, I had dumped my backpack on the bedside chair. Somewhere in the bottom pocket, buried under clothes and paper, was my phone. It was the only lifeline left in a world that had suddenly turned completely hostile—and my hands shook violently as I reached out into the dark for it.