The Window

The Climax- (i)

Whenever something drastic and violent had happened in my life, I'd always found it difficult to deal with my emotions. My feelings were always in a state of inertia of sorts, bottled up so that I could get through life, unscathed. And then an external force acted upon them like a stealthy little bitch, causing those feelings to creep out of the bottle's inconceivably narrow neck and piss all over my assiduously maintained, apathetic- in fact- borderline sociopathic, exterior.

And I could feel it happening right now. My pulse was racing. I could hear my heart thumping in my chest. The sound was so loud that I felt as if my eardrums would explode. These were the exact physical reactions to rage and guilt that I'd trained myself to ignore. Yes, not control, but ignore. Controlling them was a myth. A nice little fairytale countless therapists sold convincingly. 'Controlling' implied having them sink in, and honestly, I was in a rush.

I had to clean up this mess as soon as possible. I didn't have any time to waste. I walked across the street from Nandini's apartment building and over to my car as soon as the heavy traffic abated.

I slid into the driver's seat and started my car as I wiped the slight moistness in my eyes.

Sneaky little fuckers. Those stray teardrops.

They didn't usually get the best of me. Maybe once a year, on Mom's birthday. But that's about it. It wasn't like this when I was a child. I used to cry frequently- sometimes due to the physical pain my deranged father put me through, sometimes due to the pain he inflicted on my mother. Sometimes, it was both. Difficult to tell them apart.

But now of all times. Hadn't fucking expected them. Especially not now.

I played a game in my head to distract myself so as to grow more functional. One where whatever had transpired in the last few days wasn't my fault.

There were a number of people I could blame.

The Yakuza for ordering me to kill Eric Wang and starting this whole episode of assfuckery in the first place. Luna Chan for the revenge she tried to exact for a bastard who didn't even deserve a smidgen of such intense ardour. Detective Gary Davis, who seemed a little too curious for his own good. That ridiculously bad liar Marlene whose brother I should not have spared the one time I was asked to beat the shit out of him. That little twat of a human, Liam what's-his-face, who'd ratted me out to the police. Fucking tattletale needed to be dealt with. And of course, the best for last. Charles Fucking Tremblay. Fucking Cunt. Fucking sick perverted son of a bitch. Fucking murderer...

I laughed a little as the cuss words melded together in my head.

"Fucking Murderer!"

I might as well have been talking about myself. Double Standards at its acme.

And to think Nandini was in this wreck just because she'd wanted to stop me from getting shot...to say that this little misadventure had been detrimental to her very being, would be a severe understatement.

She should have detested me to her very core by now...but for some reason, I got the feeling she didn't. I had no idea why...but she didn't. I mean, if I were her, I would have definitely hated me.

And that just made me feel even more guilty...

I was an absolute fucking idiot to get involved with her. I should have just continued with the pretense of not acknowledging her very existence. One thing I knew for certain- Nandini was very proud. Just a few more disses from me and her curiosity about me would've faded. And she'd have been safe.

She was strong though. Way stronger than I'd been after facing assault for the first time. I knew that she'd recover...the bruises would heal soon...the other physical wounds too. The psychological ones, however, would take longer. Maybe even a lifetime.