she devil

Chapter-4.5(part-1)

Madhav Arora

One year ago...

I am so tired. I wish I can go home and have a nap. I wish I could sleep through this year. But I have to hold on. I am one year two weeks away from graduation. Once I graduate, I can go far away from this hell hole. After all, I have been enduring this for the past decade. I will have no regrets to leave this place. To say that I have no friends in an understatement. More like I have too many enemies. It's not that I have no strength to fight against my bullies. It's just that it's better not to. With the number of criminal cases that are registered on an average minor in this school, it is more likely that I won't live past 18 years if I go against them. I don't want trouble. So, I will endure it all. I can easily name a hundred ways to torture a person with touching him. That's how they bully you. So that you'll have no proof to complain against them. Even if you do, no one can actually help you.

I wish I could just go back home and help mom. She seems to show signs of chest pain again. But I need to deliver the goods tonight. I work part-time in a transportation company called 'Valley Transports'. It is the best job for a good driver like me. I load the truck with the material that needs to be delivered. Today's delivery is in prachoor town. It takes three-hour drive to reach the town and four hours to return as you have to go through the entire town to take a U-turn. Rich people's minds are hard to understand. Every person who doesn't belong to the town has to go around the town to take a U-Turn. The town's name itself means plentiful. They definitely have plenty of everything, considering their pretentiousness.

After two hours of driving on the highway, I park the truck to the side of the road to relax and have some water. If it wasn't for this shift, I could've been at home right now. I lift the water bottle to take a huge gulp. I can see the bruises on my knuckles and hands from this angle. I clench and unclench my hands. I don't feel the pain anymore not because it's not painful but because I am used to it by now. They've done everything that a bully could to me. Yes, that's right. I, Madhav Zindagi, am the school's outcast. Being the son of two daily worker parents, there are only two ways I can end up in. Either I get down in the dirty business to earn money or become a daily worker like my parents. People who choose the second option becomes the target for bullies because they don't want trouble, they stay quiet and endure the pain in hopes of getting out of this dump yard after they graduate and get a job. Luckily, not everyone at school picks on me. Most of them won't because I might fight back and I am good at fighting back. I just don't fight back against the bigger gangs.

As I am lost in my thoughts, a sound from my left side catches my attention. I look in the direction and see nothing. Maybe I am imagining things because I am thinking about them. They even have a fancy name for their- my line of thought is interrupted by another sound from the left. This time, closer. I squint my eyes to have a better look. I move towards the rustling in the darkness. What now? Is it a deer? It's most likely some animal. I should just turn around and start my journey. I still have an hour drive. As I am about to give up on the idea a figure emerges from the bushy plants on the side of the road.

At one look, I definitely know it's not an animal. In most occasions I am very calm, but this situation is straight out of a serial killer movie. I take one step back, ready to bolt, when I get a better look at the creature. And by the grace of god, it's a girl. At second glance, I realize that she is covered in blood. Not entirely but her leg is literally drenched in blood and it seems like a gunshot. There is another shot in her chest. Close to her heart. As I said, I don't like trouble. At the sight of the injuries, I can tell it was a fight and judging by her clothes, she reeks extravagance. I'd rather have a plain boring life than getting involved with these rich kids.

Anyone who knows this might think I am heartless but, in my place, I know how much trouble I can get in if I end on the wrong side of a powerful person or if I didn't deliver this on time. I was just about to leave. It's not a hard choice if you don't look at the bloodbath. But one last look is all it took. It wasn't that she's beautiful or that she was seriously injured. It was as she lifted her head, the look in her eyes and the expression on her face. To say that she was desperate would be an understatement. With one look into her eyes, I can say that she didn't get out of a fight but that she was still fighting. I don't know what difference it makes. I can still turn around and walk away. But my legs refused to move or that's the only excuse I can give myself. Something about her just didn't let me give up.

Without even realizing why, I moved forward. What am I doing? I am going to be late. But by the time I got to her side, my brain was already empty and I started to feel anxious as I listened to her slow breathing. It was too slow and before I could get closer, she dropped to the floor, breaking the spell. Panic raised in me out of no reason. I don't know why I am more afraid for her when I should be worrying about myself. Without second thought I dialed 108.

Now that I called an ambulance, I should go. But I couldn't get myself to leave, for the fear that someone might still be after her. It is when I heard the ambulance approaching that I felt assured. I quickly moved her on to the road so that she's easily spotted. I got into my truck and took one last look at her. Now that the panic is gone, she does look good but more like in a cute injured stray dog kind of way. The one thing that is more noticeable on her was the ring on her finger. A huge emerald stone ring. That's the last thing I remember that night before I came home to a traumatizing scene.

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Dear Readers,

I hope you enjoyed this part. it would be appreciated if you write down your thoughts about the story in the comment box.

Yours,

Janvi Siya.

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