The village fell into a deathly silence. Fear kept everyone locked inside their homes, convinced that a vengeful spirit would now roam freely, seeking the perpetrator of such a gruesome murder. No one dared venture out, opting to pray in the safety of their own homes instead.
Even the mosque, situated beyond the very garbage dump where the suitcase containing the body had been found, seemed too perilous to reach. It wasn't just the devout who were gripped by fear; even the scavengers who frequented the dump had declared a self-imposed holiday, too terrified to return to the site of Ainun's grim discovery.
Ainun, known for her bravery, found her own courage faltering. The image of the mutilated body inside the suitcase was seared into her mind. The pungent, metallic scent of blood lingered in her nostrils, making the thought of returning to the dump to scavenge for food unbearable.
But staying away meant no income, leaving Ainun trapped between fear and necessity. For now, she decided to take a break from scavenging, hoping that time would dull the edges of her fear.
Everyone harbored their own anxieties, especially those who had witnessed the mangled state of the body. Nightfall brought shivers down their spines as they imagined the vengeful spirit paying them a visit, even though they were innocent bystanders. The tragic end of Sukma had woven a tapestry of fear and horror over the entire village.
Meanwhile, Sukma's family grappled with the news delivered by the police. Each had their own theories about what had happened to her, and the confirmation of her demise sent shockwaves through their world.
"There are no internal organs left," the officer explained grimly.
"Could this be an organ trafficking ring, officer?" Tomo asked, his voice trembling with shock.
"That's what we're investigating. There were no fingerprints on the body," the officer admitted, his brow furrowed with concern.
"How is that even possible?" Tomo exclaimed, realizing the difficulty of finding the perpetrator without any leads.
"It appears the killer was very meticulous, especially if this is indeed linked to an organ trafficking syndicate," the officer affirmed.
"Please, find the monster who murdered my daughter! I'll pay anything!" Tomo pleaded, his voice raw with grief and desperation.
"We'll do our best to bring the perpetrator to justice, sir," the officer assured him with a solemn nod.
Sukma's body, stitched back together after the autopsy, was returned to her family. There wasn't a single fingerprint on her body except for Tomo's, who had held his daughter's head when he first saw her.
"My child... It's me, Mother," Bu Dian cried, clutching the body wrapped in a white shroud.
"Mother, please don't torture yourself like this," Delisa said, embracing her heartbroken mother.
"Let's recite the Yasin verses. Let's guide Sukma's journey with our prayers," Tomo suggested, his voice thick with unshed tears. He had been weeping since the news arrived that afternoon.
"I'll inform Pak RT to make an announcement at the mosque," Razi volunteered.
"Want me to come with you?" Reno offered, his gaze filled with concern for his brother.
"No need," Razi declined. It would be better for Reno to stay home and prepare for the funeral.
"Oh God, even your fingers... they were cut off," Bu Dian sobbed, her hand hovering over Sukma's mutilated hand.
"Mother, please don't look. It'll only cause you more pain," Delisa pleaded, unable to bear the sight herself.
"Just look from afar, Bu," Clara, Razi's wife, suggested gently. Four months pregnant, she was experiencing severe morning sickness.
Seeing Sukma's state would only amplify Bu Dian's grief. The imagined pain her daughter endured would be unbearable to witness directly. It was better to view her from afar and focus on reciting the Yasin verses, seeking solace in prayer.
Even Sukma's dog whimpered, sensing the overwhelming sorrow that had enveloped the family. Death, particularly such a gruesome one, had a way of uniting the living and the dead in shared grief. And for Sukma, whose life had been stolen in such a horrific manner, the desire for vengeance would surely linger.
...****************...
Razi sped towards Pak RT’s house on his motorbike. He had to pass the garbage dump, the very place where his sister’s body had been found. The dump was situated in the middle, equidistant from both sides of the village – Tomo’s house on the left and Pak RT’s on the right. The land, once empty, now served as a common dumping ground, donated by Tomo for the benefit of the villagers.
“Why is it drizzling now?” Razi muttered under his breath, a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach.
As he rode past the dump, an icy chill ran down his spine. It felt like someone was blowing on his back, over and over again. His bike suddenly felt heavy, as if an invisible force was making it harder for him to reach his destination. The distance to Pak RT’s house, usually a short ride, seemed to stretch endlessly.
“Hee hee hee…”
“Gah!” Razi’s eyes darted up to the trees, drawn by a fleeting shadow.
“Hee hee hee…”
“Don’t bother me, Sukma!” Razi recognized his sister’s eerie laughter.
“Boo hoo hoo… It hurts… My whole body hurts…” A woman’s voice sobbed.
“Rest in peace, Sukma. We’ll find the one who did this to you,” Razi said, his voice trembling. His motorbike sputtered and died.
Pak RT’s house was still some distance away. All that stood before him was a vast peanut field belonging to one of the villagers. Razi had no choice but to push his bike, hoping to find a passerby to help him. But the streets were deserted; everyone was too scared to be out at night, fearing the vengeful spirit.
Whoooosh.
Crack.
“Aagh!” Razi cried out as a blast of icy wind, reeking of blood, knocked him off his feet.
“Hee hee hee…”
“What have I done, Sukma? I don’t know anything!” Razi screamed, terrified, as a searing pain shot through his back.
“Die… Die… All of you!” A ghastly figure shrieked, its voice distorted with rage.
“Sukma?!” Razi gasped, horrified by the apparition before him.
Gone was his sister’s familiar face. In its place was a grotesque mockery of a human being. Limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, her head severed from her body, resting on a shoulder, a gruesome sight that would make even the bravest soul tremble. Blood poured from her severed neck, cascading down like a macabre waterfall, forming a pool at Razi’s feet.
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