Chapter 10: Blood on the Steps

I spun around. Her ringtone echoed, bouncing off the tiled walls, too loud for the dead of night.

My feet felt like lead as I stepped toward the stairwell. The light flickered, shadows stretching long. I muttered another silent Hanuman Chalisa, heart beating like a dhol.

The smell of iron—blood—hit me first, sharp and metallic. Broken bangles glinted on the steps, catching the stairwell light.

There, on the stairs, lay the corpse of a woman in a long white saree—just like Ma wears for puja, except this one was soaked in blood. Her body twisted, arms sprawled, bangles shattered across the steps.

Most horrifying—she was headless. Blood had soaked her saree and stained the stairs. The phone—the one I’d just called—was clutched in her hand, still ringing, my own number flashing on the screen. Mere haath pair thande pad gaye.