Fiction: Group 4
***
The buzz of the street felt electrifying in the sweltering heat. It bounced off of the streets and caused a
mirage of wavering images. Photographers stood in masses, all pressed up together, perspiration beading
their forehead, running in tiny rivulets down their faces. Their cameras were pointed at different things, but
generally in the same direction. The police had dropped no hints as to which penthouse it was, and so the
paparazzi took pictures of ones that the famous model might be in. They held their cameras steadily, their
sweaty, oily fingers careful not to drop it.
The public stood by the sides. Most came because they had heard the news, others had stopped on their way
to work. Almost everywhere there were sounds of camera shutters, everyone holding out their phones to
capture the moment. Teenaged girls stood in clumps scattered all over the street, some holding small
bouquets of flowers in their hands.
Behind the photographers were big, intimidating white vans with satellite dishes on top. Journalists were
talking furiously into their microphone, and newsmen were talking rapidly to the cameras, all reporting the
few facts that they knew.
“…rumored to be a suicide attempt…police have not made any statements…”
“…death still not confirmed..”
“She came home at three in the morning…paparazzi were waiting outside.”
“…could’ve been drug overdose…”
“…boyfriend no where to be seen…”
Between the recordings, the newsmen all tried to fan themselves to make sure their sweat did not show and
their makeup did not melt off.
Inside the huge towers was the apartment of Lara Monet. It was superfluously decorated, lush creamy carpets
covering the entire floor, a brilliant structure of marble white with enchanting lights trailing around the
entire apartment. Each room was extremely kept, and the police found it hard to believe that this was the
home of the troubled girl.
“Inspector, you might want to take a look at this,” called Detective Surgeon Zhao Lin Xi from one of the
rooms. Zhao was a skinny, lanky man with deep-set, beady eyes.
“What, did you find some-” Detective Inspector Yang Xin Dong stopped short as he walked in, staring at
the scene in front him. Although the rest of the penthouse was immaculate, this room looked as if someone
had raided it. Clothes, makeup and jewelry were all scattered around, and in the middle of the chaos lay the
stunning girl.
The flawless young woman’s face was pale, serene and peaceful. Jabbed into her am was a needle. Just all
around the area was a spiderweb of tiny little purple and blue threads that weaved around her skin. She was
wearing a very thin glittery dress, and whenever the light caught it it gave a disquieting impression of
movement.
Meanwhile, Zhao started examining the scene. He tapped the Inspector on the shoulder.
“She did a couple lines of Charlie over there.” He jerked his thumb towards the cluttered table.
The Inspector made his way over to the woman with practiced ease, careful not to tread on anything. He
felt her neck, and a weak but sure beat pulsed on his finger.
“We have to hurry. We might lose her quickly. Is the ambulance on its way?”
“Yes, sir,” Zhao replied to his superior.
“So. A classic case. Reckon this is a suicide attempt?”
“Not sure, sir.”
“We’ll just have to speak to witnesses then. She got a boyfriend?”
“Yes, it is rumored she does, sir.”
“Then we’ll have to interview him first.” Zhao nodded.
They waited for the ambulance in silence, keeping a steady eye on the woman and checking for any more
clues. At last it came, and the model was quickly rushed to the emergency department.
