Sunday Short: Who Killed Me?
- Faiz Faisal
- 3 days ago
- 4 min read
Aina had one rule.
Never look into her own future.
For years, the medium from Shah Alam had followed that rule without exception. She had helped grieving families communicate with loved ones, assisted in missing person cases, and even helped police uncover clues that couldn't be explained.
The future was dangerous.
Because once you saw it, you couldn't unsee it.
Unfortunately, curiosity always wins eventually.
One humid Friday night, after finishing an exhausting séance, Aina decided to do what she had forbidden herself from doing for years.
She looked ahead.
Just a few weeks.
Nothing more.
The familiar sensation washed over her as her spirit left her body.
The world blurred.
Time accelerated.
Days passed in seconds.
Then she arrived.
Her own home.
At first, nothing seemed unusual.
The lights were off.
The living room was silent.
Then she saw the body.
A woman lying motionless on the floor.
A pool of blood spreading beneath her.
Aina drifted closer.
Her stomach dropped.
It was her.
Her own face.
Her own clothes.
Her own body.
Covered in stab wounds.
Deep wounds.
Repeated wounds.
The kind that came from rage.
Not self-defense.
Not robbery.
Murder.
Aina's pulse hammered in her ears.
Someone was going to kill her.
And she only had moments before the vision ended.
She moved through the room desperately.
Looking.
Searching.
Who did this?
The murder weapon was gone.
No sign of forced entry.
No broken windows.
No clues.
Then she noticed something.
Her dead hand.
Clutched tightly inside her fingers was a gold bracelet.
Not hers.
Women's jewelry.
Expensive.
A clue.
Aina floated closer.
The bracelet carried a familiar energy.
She knew exactly who it belonged to.
The future began pulling her back.
Before she vanished, she caught one final glimpse.
Someone standing in the hallway.
Watching her corpse.
A woman.
But before Aina could see her face—
Everything went black.
She woke up gasping.
Back in her prayer room.
Sweat covered her body.
Her heart raced.
She knew she had very little time.
And somehow—
She thought she knew who her killer was.
The following weeks felt normal.
Too normal.
Aina continued seeing clients.
Continued helping the dead speak.
Continued pretending she hadn't seen her own murder.
Then one afternoon, the woman from the vision returned.
Farah.
A regular client.
Wealthy.
Beautiful.
And angry.
Months earlier, Farah's mother had passed away, leaving behind a fortune rumored to be worth millions.
Farah believed her late mother had hidden additional money somewhere before her death.
And she believed Aina knew where.
The séances had stopped producing answers.
Or at least answers Farah wanted to hear.
"You've been lying to me," Farah accused.
Aina remained calm.
"I only tell you what your mother tells me."
"That's convenient."
Farah slammed her hands onto the table.
"She wouldn't leave me with nothing."
Aina stared at her.
Something about the woman made her uneasy now.
Maybe it was because she had already seen the bracelet.
Maybe it was because she knew how this ended.
The argument escalated.
Voices rose.
Accusations flew.
Finally Farah stood.
"If you're hiding anything from me, I swear you'll regret it."
Then she stormed out.
Aina watched her leave.
And smiled.
Three days later, neighbors heard screaming from Aina's house.
By the time police arrived, it was over.
The medium was dead.
Just as she had seen.
Multiple stab wounds.
Living room floor.
Blood everywhere.
The scene matched her vision almost perfectly.
Investigators quickly focused on Farah.
Witnesses confirmed the two women had argued days earlier.
Farah's bracelet was found at the scene.
The case seemed simple.
Open and shut.
Until Farah disappeared.
Police searched for weeks.
Nothing.
No sightings.
No financial activity.
No trace.
It was as though she had vanished.
Then a suicide note was discovered among Aina's belongings.
Handwritten.
Signed.
Authentic.
It read:
The spirit world has taken everything from me.
I can no longer tell where the dead end and I begin.
I am tired.
Please forgive me.
Suddenly the investigation changed.
Perhaps there had been no murder.
Perhaps Aina had simply broken.
The case was quietly reclassified.
Suicide.
Eventually everyone moved on.
Six months later.
A woman sat on a balcony overlooking the sea in Langkawi.
A glass of sparkling water rested beside her.
So did several million ringgit inherited from her late mother.
The woman smiled as she watched the sunset.
Farah's face stared back from the reflection in the glass.
But the eyes weren't Farah's.
They belonged to Aina.
Because the future had never shown her who would kill her.
It had shown her an opportunity.
A medium capable of speaking with the dead could do far more than communicate.
She could move souls.
When Aina recognized Farah's bracelet during the vision, she understood exactly what was about to happen.
She didn't try to stop her murder.
She prepared for it.
The night of the confrontation, she performed a ritual older than any séance she had ever conducted.
A ritual forbidden even among mediums.
A ritual that allowed two souls to exchange vessels.
Farah never knew what happened.
One moment she was standing in Aina's living room.
The next—
She was trapped inside Aina's body.
And Aina was inside hers.
The police found Aina's corpse.
But Aina had never died.
She had simply changed bodies.
Changed names.
Changed lives.
The woman on the balcony smiled.
Farah's inheritance had been worth every sacrifice.
As the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, she raised her glass.
And somewhere far away, buried beneath a headstone carrying Aina's name—
A soul screamed from the darkness.
Still trapped.
Still alive.
Still wondering the same question.
Who killed me?
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