she devil

Chapter-4.5(part-2)

It's been three weeks. I don't even remember the girl I saved that night. All I remember is pool of blood I came home to. The delivery went smooth. No one asked why I was late as everyone seemed to be in a hurry. When I came home the door was unlocked. I should've known that something was wrong at that moment. My mind was too fixed on the injured girl that I almost tripped on my mother's dead body. The moment I saw that scene, I was stuck in place for the second time that night. A gasp left my mouth and silence followed. It took me about 10 seconds to read the situation and another minute to gather courage to call for medical help. But I already know there is nothing that they can do. My mom's already dead and by the looks of it, she's been dead for a while. How long? I don't know. But long enough that she can't be brought to life. The blood is cold. How do I know? Because I touched it. Living in a neighborhood like this, my mom never looked so vacant. At first, I couldn't take my eyes away from the sight in front of me but as the fog cleared, I started to search for my dad. He was nowhere to be found. I could've easily assumed that he was still at work. But after what I just saw, I couldn't. My brain has long run out of options. My breathing became rapid. I couldn't calm down.

I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. Though it took a while, I was finally able to think straight. As my mind cleared, I started to observe things that were unnoticeable to me just a minute ago. The lock on front door was intact that means it's most possible that either my mom knew the person who came in here or she was expecting someone so, she left the door unlocked. she couldn't have forgotten to lock the door or let someone, who she doesn't know, in. There were signs of struggle but not for too long as the space beyond 2 feet from her body is as it's supposed to be. It must be a sneak attack.

I have no idea why I am trying to recreate the crime scene. Doing so will only make me more upset. But I have to concentrate on something else to shift my attention from the sight in the hall. I move around the house to see if anything was stolen but nothing was missing. I don't even thing the murderer went beyond the hall. What motive could someone have to kill mom? More importantly, who would have the motive to kill my mom.

That night was the most miserable night of my life. The doctors confirmed my mom's death. Soon, I got a call from the hospital that my father got into an accident and was seriously injured. After a few days of fighting for life in the hospital, he passed away. Trying to put the pieces together only made me more miserable. Even though it was embarrassing I couldn't help but cry at my parent's funeral. I could still remember the feel of their embrace. I loved them. Now, I'll have to carry this memory with me in their stead. I never thought it could be this painful, losing parents. The fact that I don't know who's responsible for their death makes their death all the more painful.

I was good at letting go but I couldn't let go of my suspicion regarding their death. The police couldn't track down the tipper lorry that hit my dad's motorcycle or my mom's murderer. It wasn't a coincidence, their death. I know it. Though, I can't prove it. Yet, I can't think of a person who would go to these lengths to get my parents killed. They don't offend people nor do they have working status enough to make enemies at work. Two completely common workers were killed deliberately on the same night leaving no trace of evidence. As the days passed, people started to forget about the case but I couldn't let go of it. There were a lot of things that I wanted to share with them but I never got the chance. Whoever is responsible for their death must pay and I will make sure they do.

Two months ago...

Tables, tables, tables. There are a lot of them. Just why did I have to choose this huge restaurant for a waiter job? Ah, yes. Because it pays well. But then again, I've been cleaning these tables for such a long time that I am having second thoughts on working here. Well, even so, I have no choice but to do a I am told. With that thought in mind, I start cleaning yet another table. I've been working in this restaurant for the past few weeks. I've long dropped out of school and started working for a living. Kids always want to be independent but let me tell you what? You're lucky that you are able to have three meals a day without having to work 14 hours to do so. Trust me. It's a pitiful experience.

It's been almost nine months and I got used to it by now. It helps me survive. So, I can't complain. It has been a week since I was last beaten by them. I don't know if I should fight back or stay silent. I am good at enduring the pain and it's safe not to revolt. But they are getting worse these days. I am losing by patience. They even locked me up in the warehouse. They see a lot of gangster movies, I think.

After I was done cleaning the tables, I head to close the restaurant and then went straight home. After what happened nine months ago, I never forget to lock the doors behind me, I've never turn off the lights while sleeping. Nightmares plagued my sleep and I wasn't able to have a dreamless sleep. To me it's like they never left me and I still kept chasing after their absence, unable to let go. I should get better now that it's been this long but I failed yet again as I went to bed.

Everything is dark and I am alone. That's what I thought until I hear it. Faint sound of breathing coming from below. I look down towards the ground. Right at my feet lies the body of my mother. It is the night that my mom died but right, she isn't dead yet. I crouch beside her and hold her hand.

"Mom, mom." I whimper as her breathing slows down. I try to lift her but I was stuck. Just like that night, I couldn't move. I try to break the tension in my bones and lift her into my arms. "Mom, wake up. WAKE UP." I scream but she doesn't respond. Another sound from the left attracts catches attention. It's an engine sound. As soon as I figure that out, I see a motorcycle coming towards me and crashes over nothing. My dad's bike falls onto the road and comes to a stop at my right side. I can see my dad struggling to get up. I immediately move towards the bike to pull him up but as I crouch by the his side, I don't find my dad there anymore. I lift my head to see my mom and dad standing together on the other side, a sorrowful expression on their faces. I bolt towards them in fear of losing them but before I could reach them, they fade away into the darkness. I feel uneasy and look down to find my hands covered in blood. As I look at them, a drop falls onto them and I realize that I am crying. I scream into the empty space that is filled with darkness. Just like me.

I open my eyes to bright light. It's morning. I've failed to avoid the nightmare again. At least, these days, they are not that evocative anymore. I wake up and get ready for another day of work. I decided not to have breakfast and make do with the glass of milk. Yes, I like milk. And yes, I am straight as an arrow. I shake my head at my self-explanatory behavior, as the doorbell to my apartment rings. I move to open the door, wondering who would come to meet me this early in the morning, only to find two men uniformly dressed in black suite. It's an interesting sight to see in the morning.

"How can I help you?" I ask in a polite tone.

"We are here for you, sir? Are you Mr. Madhav Bhatt?" yes, I am. But what's the deal if I am. I didn't know, at that time, that this incident will change my life for good. 

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Dear Readers, 

how's it going? my academic year has just began. so, it's gonna get more and more difficult to update on time. hope you understand. as I always say, don't feel shy to write a comment in the comment box.

Yours,

Janvi Siya.

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