According to Zuma's assumption, the next crime scene visited by him and Isabella was the most horrific of all and the sight of the suicide victim lingered in his mind for a very long time after.

She was a newly married lady, full of life and plans for the future, and this was the reason why her death was the greatest shock to her community.  

He squirmed at the sight of her slashed throat, and the puddle of blood around her seemed to form eerie shapes. And just like the previous suicide victims with sick smiles on their lips and glint of happiness on their faces, she had enjoyed the insane action with pleasure. 

Like before, all efforts to trace the reason for the startling suicide proved abortive. And after the promise to get to the root of the matter, Zuma and his deputy stepped out of the deceased house and were back in their patrol car a moment later.

"This is getting more confusing," Isabella who had been glaring at the moving images as the car raced back to the police headquarters mumbled when the silence became unbearable.

"I agree it is. The more I try to comprehend what is happening on this island, the more it becomes incomprehensible. Am getting fed up."

"Not yet, boss. You aren't leaving us until you find a solution to this crisis."

Zuma was silent after, and his mind was back to his conflicting thought.  "Am I truly the reason for all this death? If yes. What is the way out?"

"Are you talking to me?"

He smirked when he realized his thought was audible, changed the gear of the moving car and increased his speed, then answered back, "no. I am soliloquising."

"You don't need to allow the inhabitant's accusations to affect you. Though we are all Christians by birth, the belief in paganism was deeply rooted in us and we see things from our paganism views and not from what the Bible taught us."

"Did you believe in witchcraft and evil spirits?"

"Yes, I do. The recent occurrence on this island lengthened my belief as well. I'm sure you will agree with me that what we are witnessing here is beyond human comprehension."

"I agree it is. I'm an antagonist to anything that has to do with spiritualism, and only this recent experience is what is shaking my conviction."

"Humans are incomplete and our searches for wholeness is what makes us seek the faces of the supernatural. No matter how successful in life we are, we will always feel that void in us... An emptiness that can only be restored by connecting our faith with entities stronger than us."

"I agree I always feel incomplete and inadequate. What I don't accept is that I need the connection of the supernatural to experience complete fulfilment."

"Our denial is because of our ego, and not because our subconscious did not yearn for fulfilment."

"Perhaps you are right. But I don't see how spirituality can help on solving this problem."

"It will. When we stopped looking for a physical solution to a spiritual problem."

"What did you suggest?"

"I suggest we stop following the normal procedure of investigation and go spiritual. Let's look for something unusual, something extraordinary and peculiar. And I believe we will find the missing puzzle soon."

"Am open to all suggestions-."

Zuma's speech was cut short by the nasty ringing of the patrol car phone.

"Hello, boss. Are you close to Cumberland high college?"

"Yep. A few minute's drive from here."

"We just received a call that fifty students committed suicide within some seconds."

"What?"

"Fifty student boss... Fifty students took their goddam lives within an hour. What's going on? Boss."

"Oh my gosh! Send the forensic teams and call the ambulance department now."

"Okay, boss."

Zuma sighed as the line was disconnected at the other side of the call, glanced at the expressionless lady beside him, and then shakes his head. And the look on his face was filled with dread.

They were speechless through the drives to Cumberland high school, and only when they emerged inside and caught sight of the fifty students laying lifeless, and in blood-soaked uniforms, that Zuma and his comrade finally succumb to their overwhelming craving to burst into tears. 

As common in every society where the world of the rich is always different from the world of the poor, Cumberland Island is not exempted. 

While the rich dwelled on the West side of the island, the poor had to do with the Northern side. Yet still, both districts were not only different in the class of people inhabiting the land mass, but also in all the basic amenities and infrastructure development.

The West side of Cumberland has almost what is needed to make living pleasing to the few lucky inhabitants, while the Northern side can hardly boast of a passable road. To them, luxurious amenities that make life more endurable are only meant for the rich alone.

To be candid, there is a huge difference between the inhabitants of western Cumberland and those who were unfortunate enough to be born on the other side of the island. And schools, hospitals, inns, and other public places will only admit you based on the locality you are born into. 

Cumberland high school was built over hectares of land, and because it was situated on the western side of the island, it's fully populated by the children of the rich.

Having fifty dead students within an hour means nothing but doom for the newly arrived chief of police, and this may be the reason why he is as sad as doomed as he drove into the high wall of the most prestigious high school on the island.

An hour ago, an alarm sounded like the biblical trumpet, and the students of Cumberland high school all sauntered out of their classrooms, stepped into the large grassland and promptly engaged in their various athletics. 

Since a bird of a feather flock together, some section of the students found pleasure in reading the imagination of writers, and this made them wobble towards the school library to feast their eyes on the newly arrived packs of novels.

"We heard of the delivery of new novels for us... Is it true?"

"Aye. A truck filled with novels was delivered this morning."

"Thanks, Anty Mirabel. Where are the shelves for the newly arrived?"

"Over there, sweeties!"

The team wobbled closer to the place Anty Mirabel pointed, lined in front of the shelves and picked up their favourite among the lots.

The library is built in a rectangular shape, and chairs and tables were arranged in lines. Fully light, ventilated, and the availability of pewters filled with coffee was one of the secrets that entice students to this place of knowledge.

"I have some cakes for all of you," the librarian announced, stepping into the midst of the engrossed student and putting a cake in cupcakes in front of all of them.

"Thanks, Anty Mirable."

"You are the best!"

"What is the title of the novel you are reading?"

"LAYLA!"

"That's a strange title and the black-eyed girl on the cover page looks weird."

"Yes. Even the author warned that the novel contained knowledge that will make death to be more palatable to whoever goes beyond the next page."

"That is a good way to market your story. People are more attracted to anything forbidden."

"Sure, Anty. I picked it because of the warning on the cover. "

"Enjoy your story and summarize it for me after."

"Of course, Anty.

Mirabel had not reached her section of the library when a sudden commotion erupted inside the serene environment.

'Whack.'

'Whack... Whack!"

"Ahh!"

" What's going on there?"

"Oh, my God!"

"Holy Madonna!"

She sprang up from her seat when the noise became hysterical, marched toward the source of the commotion, halted suddenly, shrieked, slumped and landed with a loud crash.

The sight before Mirabel deserves her present state, and all those who came after her suffered the same fate.

Some lads had plunged the pen in their hands into their two eyes, some young men had sliced their throat with CDs, while the main sources of the commotion were those who decided to end their lives by banging their heads on the wall, floor, and the tables in their front.

At last, fifty students lay dead in a few minutes.