Never Kiss Your Best Friend

Prologue

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I jolted awake from my sleep at the sound of a glass vase shattering in the living room. Uncle had come home drunk again, and I was shivering in fear at what was to come next to me. It was a never-ending cycle. He would come home late, drunk and out of his control in my room to beat me to a pulp and remind me how much of a burden I was to him.

The famous politician of the ruling party in India, the saint of the people, Sunil Sharma, was the monster of my life. Since I was 13, after the death of my parents in a helicopter crash, I had been living under his guardianship -- dictatorship. Because he had dictated every second of my life, locking me up in the house or leaving it with four of his men. All those years I was not allowed to step a foot outside without his Eagle watching me.

The door burst open and blood-red round eyes met mine, peacock nose flaring in anger as his shoulders rose from heavy breathing. Those rays of light from the living room washed away the darkness of my room, his thin lips curling up in a disgusting smirk as he stepped inside. He was a well-built fifty-eight years old man with broad shoulders and a six feet frame.

I shifted to the far corner of my bed, as far away from him as I could. Tears welled up in my eyes, praying for the deity to send back my parents to save me from him. With four big steps, he stood across my bed to the other end. I squealed in pain when he grabbed my ankle and dragged me toward him. As my arse reached the edge of the mattress, I felt a sharp sting on my left cheek. He had slapped me. Hard. The burning sensation did not get the chance to cool down when his hand raised high in the air and landed harshly on my cheek, the metal band on his wrist scraping through my cheekbone.

"Please. No." I said in a weak voice, cracking at every sob that escaped my lips.

"5 years. I have been waiting for 5 years for tomorrow to come." He said, the strong smell of alcohol invading my nostrils as he leaned forward. "You turn 18 tomorrow. I get the documents and the property. You become ash."

My father was an IAS officer, and dare I say people worshipped the ground he walked on. He was a futuristic person, and since I was the only child and only girl in 4 generations, my father and grandparents named so many things for me in their death will. Land or money never attracted me with its charm. My father taught me to feed those who had nothing on their plates when I had a three-course meal. I gulped at the thought of my uncle knowing about the document.

On my twelfth birthday, I barged into my father's office at midnight. He was anxiously wrapping a cardboard box laid on his wooden table with newspaper, the dim table lamp illuminating his wheat-coloured skin.

I smiled, taking a quiet step inside. "Is this my birthday gift?"

He gasped, almost dropping the table lamp and the contents from the box as he took a step back.

"This, my lovely daughter, is the biggest secret of India. A secret worth dying and killing for. A secret that will make the country if handed in the right hands." He said.

"People think you are the right person. They adore you. You can use this secret to make their life better, just like you want."

He sat on his chair, making me sit on his lap as he kissed the side of my cheeks. He was beautiful. "Because I need to protect you. You will own this secret and everything associated with it."

"But, I don't want to," I said, pouting at him.

"Promise me to never say anything about this to anyone." He demanded in his authoritative tone.

I nodded. "I promise, Papa."

Since I was underage when they died, my uncle was the only closest family member eligible to be my guardian. Since nobody knew where papa hid those documents, my uncle was planning to murder me in broad daylight the moment I hand him everything. Or else... The one reason he waited this long was that the death will of my grandparents said I could claim everything only when I would turn 18. If anything happen to me before that everything would be donated to charity.