Rewrite of my first book, the drizzling fire.
They have seperated their ways. Some things remained seen yet some remained hidden away in the time.
The water has no beginning nor the end, just like the anger which set his veins aflame.
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A F E W Y E A R S H A V E P A S S E D
T H E B R O T H E R A N D H I S S I S T E R
S H I V A A Y
Shivaay looked at the mirror in front of him. He hated what he saw. His eyes raked over his figure. His hands grazed over the scar that spread down from his neck to his chest. Down till his waistline. The skin was lighter pink in the area, a great contrast to his otherwise pale skin.
It was ghastly.
Unsightly.
Bile rose up in his throat. He swallowed it back. The back of his eyes burned with tears. Tears of what? Anger? Sadness? Despair? He didn't know what he was feeling. All that became now over powered with disgust. His eyes slightly red around the edges, which he partly guessed was because of his rough handling. There were bags hanging down his eyes. He was not best dressed at the moment. His shirt lay open, the scar that tore his chest into two reflecting back on the surface of the mirror.
He wore his shirt. His shaky hands buttoning the shirt. "Bhaiya" he stared into mirror. His eyes watching the red silhouette that entered his field of vision. His fingers were fumbling with the buttons. He tried to focus but it was not working. Soon hands came to his rescue. He hated it. Every bit of it. Being at someone's mercy. Dying was better than this.
All his life was spent with him being in control, and now when he was not able to do a trivial task such as buttoning his own damn shirt. The feeling was shattering him from deep inside.
"I'm sorry." The voice kept saying but his expression didn't relent. "It's time for your medicine." His eyes scanned the different coloured pills he has to gulp down with the glass of water.
"Your hand." The voice instructed. He did as he was told. His movements were robotic as his eyes stared at the front wall. His stare was blank. He tried to raise his hand. It pained him to lift it. And with much difficulty he raised it at the level of his torso.
"Don't clench them." And his hands were pried open. And the shakiness returned. She inserted the needle into his skin and he closed his eyes feeling the familiar sting. He felt other arm being gripped and the dizziness took over and he was pushed to the bed.
"You didn't eat anything?" She asked in disbelief. She rushed to call the servants. They came rushing with the breakfast tray. She fed him the omelette immediately with the glass of juice and he sighed. The world around him became clear and his eyes took in the sight of the tear streaked face of his sister, Priyanka Singh Oberoi.
"Why don't you ever listen to me?" She asked as she checked him over. She rubbed his hands and he leaned back on the bed. He freed her hands away from her hold, his eyes falling on the files which laid forgotten on the table. Priyanka followed his eyes and she got up to retrieve the file.
