Broken Beyond Repair

Face it!

Hey guys!
How you all are doing?
Well! I find Diwali to be a very beautiful festival, it has the best aesthetics after Holi obvio. What I absolutely have a problem with is Diwali ki safai. Gosh, it's so tiring.
I haven't written anything in this last week because been busy cleaning the house with the other family members.

Anyway, read the chapter, I've added something new in this chapter and I hope you'll like it❤️🥀

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The curtains were drawn, preventing positivity in the wretched atmosphere of hers. She lay there in her bed wide awake, challenging her eyes not to blink. Taking comfort in torturing herself.

The last night printed on the back of her hand. Shame and embarrassment flowing in her veins. Dreading to leave her bed, scared to create another scene. Feeling warm hands roaming all around her naked body, lips exploring her scars, as she feels disgusting in her own skin.

Eyes burning like a passion, begging to be shut down but hands resisting, waiting for the command, crying helplessly as the body feels used off.

Hot tears flowing down her face as she remembers presence, feels the touch, she remembers everything, from the surreal months to the abominable last night.

"What will they think of me?"

"How can I be so problematic, so toxic" she cried in the empty dark room, which was an apt reflection of her soul.

Kritika had left in the morning for the office, leaving a note saying, she'll be back at 8 in the evening. She'd prepared breakfast for her and had cleaned the kitchen.

"Try and find work, message people online and also look for jobs too. You need distraction more than anything", her note had said.

Clutching the note in her hand and the memories in her head, she'd started messaging people on Facebook, who were looking for writers. Something in her was holding her back, it didn't want her to go for content writing. It just felt too much now to even think about it. She ignored the feeling and messaged five people.

She waited for the day to get over and for Kritika to come. Walking aimlessly in her shorts and an oversized T-shirt in the hall, her eyes fell on the journal, peacefully resting on the table, waiting for another day to get noted down.

She held it in her hand, and an urge to write it all down on a paper emerged from deep within her. Holding the penpencil in her hand, she decided to give it a try.
Vihika hadn't written a poem in months now, always researching facts and stuff for the articles, the part of her which had loved poetry so well had been lost in the content writing.

Looking at the blank page, she thought about her asking anyone and everyone what was it.

Monday, 3:49 pm,

If it wasn't love then what was it?

All the colour
Vapourized,
The moment you turned your back,
From the magical moments of my life.

The beautiful reality,
Turned into a disastrous view.
You claimed your love,
The nature was the witness,
The Sun saw us together.

Then you left,
Unconsciously taking a part of me with you.
You had no feelings,
But you could have shown a little mercy,
Mercy for the love
I showered so wholeheartedly.
Now, my heart lies in pieces,
Yet, every piece of it echoes the same question,
If it wasn't love then what was it?

~in_a_serene_reverie

Vihika read the poem twice, her eyes roaming on the paper sadly. She closed the book and sat on the floor before passing out.