Nobody's daughter ~ Yrkkh Musings

7.3 Abhi mujhme Kahin ~ SS

Trigger warning: mentions of self-harm, cuts and blood. Again, nothing explicit but dropping a warning for precaution. This chapter is probably more depressing than the previous one.

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Armaan found himself standing in the middle of a dark room, not just drak in a way that makes you pray for sporadic flicker of light, but dark in a way that you feel the darkness crawling on you, with each inhale of air, a certain amount murkiness and gloom finding it's way into your body, corrupting every cell within to burn with a hopelessness that would suffocate you to death.

It was dead silent except for the sound of soft whimpering from a short distance. He tried to find the source but something stopped him, as if there was a force purposely hindering him from taking a step forward. It felt like an intrusion in someone else's mind, sort of a black hole that would consume any source of light within it's confines. As if right on his cue there was a candle in the corner almost reaching its end, the wax melting in a puddle drop by drop.

And suddenly it felt as if the temperature of the room had dropped by a few centigrades and the air became chilly in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. As if sensing someone's presence he turned to his right. There she was, breathlessly folding her knees close to her chest, her hands clutching her ears as if trying to block out unwanted noises. She shook her head and whimpered. Armaan tried to call out her name but nothing seemed to reach her. She opened her eyes with a joult, gasping for air. Her body jerked forward and she tried to stand up only to fall back on her knees. Armaan tried to reach out to her but something held him into place, as if tying his feet to the ground. She stood up again, disorientated, swaying on her feet and began to run.

His surroundings dissolved, distorting his vision in plethora of images, overlapping noises, cries, laughter, shreiks and then again dead silence. He now stood on the terrace looking around. And he finds her using all her strength, to climb on the higher ledge, her leg wobbly as she stands, holding her breath. Her frame looked like a paradox of resilience and defeat.

He cried out her name asking her to stop, begging her to get down but his feet again felt tied. He kept calling for her and this time she turned back. A sheen of sweat covering her forehead, a sorrowful smile playing on her lips, her eyes empty despite the trail of tears falling down her cheeks, there was a defiance in her stance he hasn't seen before. And then she spoke, "you won't...ever...have to see me again"

"No...no...please don't say that. Just get down, please," he begged.

"You can't save me Armaan, you don't want to", she replied.

"Believe me please... please just get down from there."

"You are finally free from all your responsibilities", with that she let her body fall, perhaps...being alive was all it needed to embrace death.

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"Abhira!!" Armaan jolted awake from his sleep, sweating profusely, struggling to catch a breath. This couldn't be. He threw his duvet and rushed out of his room. He had to see her, make sure she is fine.

He stood in front of the room, hesitating to take a step forward, as if his feet were tied. He was about to open the door when Manisha stepped out.

"Are you alright Armaan? Why do you looked so worked up?", she asked, clearly concerned about his shortness of breath.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears and despite the way it burnt his throat he tried to find his voice, "Chahi sa....abhira....Abhira..."
He chanted her name like a prayer from a hymn and fell on his knees. The guilt finally weighing down on him.