The Hunger

The Shangri-la

"Don't you have to go to work today?", Rosie giggled as Michael held her tightly onto the bed.

"I don't have to. If you insist upon it.", Michael answered back with a smirk.

"Kaya is going to wake up in a bit. I have to make the arrangements for the breakfast.", Rosie said with a playful smile.

Michael was too tired to resist Rosie. He barely slept the previous night. Rosie left the room caressing her hair. Sirens were blaring in the city. Police cars were everywhere, patrolling. In this chaotic situation, it was not something unusual, even at this hour. Amidst all this disorder, his home was his heaven; the Shangri-la.

Michael suddenly realized how lucky he was to be with his family. He never knew what family is until he met Rosie. Everything was picture-perfect for him. Michael was happy in his own little world and never cared about anyone except Rosie and their daughter named Kaya. But all this feeling started fading away once he recalled the dream he had last night.

He distinctly remembered that he saw his father. Michael was not sure about the place. The room was dimly lit and he thought he was seated in front of a table. His father was sitting right in front of him. The other shadow that lurked in the room was probably his mother. Keeping the fact that he saw his father aside, everything was distorted; fragmented into bits of memory. Dinner was served. 

"Have it, Michael, I made it, especially for you.", Michael's father told him with an expression he doesn't remember. It was quite unusual for his father to make something for him.

 His father had dipsomania and was a misogynist to the core. Everyone in the neighbourhood disliked him. Michael, more than often witnessed the misery of his mother when his father used to beat her ruthlessly. Every time his father resorted to physical abuse, Michael saw a glow of satisfaction in his father's eyes; a strange kind of pleasure used to engulf him as if he was amused by the violence. 

"Have it, son. Don't you want to see what I made for you?", Michael's father reiterated loudly with a devilish grin.

As soon as Michael saw the dish, he was appalled. It was his mother's head; drenched in blood. The sound of his father's wicked laugh reverberated throughout the room. The room started disintegrating into pieces. The faint sound of sirens began to take a toll and with a jolt, he woke up. The time was around 3 o'clock when he gained his senses and reached out for the bottle of water.

"Nightmares again?", Rosie was standing in front of Michael with a cup of coffee in her hand. He didn't notice Rosie coming in. 

"Let it be. I'm used to it now.", Michael replied.

"I know you had a nightmare. You were perspiring heavily when I woke up at around 3 the other night.", Rosie said while Michael sipped his coffee.

"You did?", Michael said.

"I tried to calm you down but you were in some sort of trance," Rosie replied hesitantly.

"When I woke up, you were fast asleep, as much as I remember.", he said.

Rosie did not reply. Her eyes were fixated on the bottle of pills lying beside the bed. She frowned. She was unable to think for a moment and then everything became crystal clear.