Incomplete

Part 6

"They attacked you? How could they even dare to do that?" Khushi screamed with anger. She was the only one who truly cared for me, and right now, she was furious. Not just at the attackers, but at me too. She was angry because I took a huge risk without considering the consequences. I could have ended up dead or worse, but luckily, they only beat me up and threw out of the bus.

But Khushi's anger towards me was more intense than towards those thugs. She knew I was too afraid to stand up for myself because of my father's wrath. The fear of his anger was so overpowering that I couldn't even think straight. I kept submitting to him, even if it meant making mistakes like this.

However, what intrigued me the most was the mysterious guy who helped me without knowing who I was. It was strange because everyone in the pack knew about me, but this guy seemed different. Perhaps he wasn't even a part of the pack; maybe he was a free spirit. There were many wanderers like him who roamed freely, living off the land and following their own rules.

"Are you even listening to me?" Khushi's frustration boiled over as she kicked me in the back, causing me to wince in pain.

"Ouch! Don't do that, it hurts!" I protested.

"I'm talking to you too, you moron," she snapped back, her anger evident as she stormed towards the door. "I'm leaving for school. You take a break for a day. I'll bring some medication for you later," she declared before slamming the door shut behind her.

As I sat there nursing my bruises, I couldn't help but ponder over our dynamic. Sometimes, it felt like Khushi was the elder one, despite our age difference.

Once again, I found myself alone in my small, cramped room. It measured only 4 by 4 feet, barely enough space to move around. A solitary study table cluttered with books occupied one corner, while an empty cupboard held a few select pieces of clothing. The bed, with its messy sheets, took up most of the remaining space, leaving only a narrow path to the window.

Outside that window was a world I had long been disconnected from. For the past decade, I had been confined to this room, day and night, with only occasional ventures outside for essential tasks. My isolation was complete, shielded from the outside world by the walls of my room.

My mother, bless her heart, would leave my meals outside the door, never once daring to enter. She knew better than to intrude upon my solitary existence. I, too, avoided venturing out unnecessarily, unwilling to subject my mother to the awkwardness of seeing me in this state.

As for my father, his presence in my room was always accompanied by anger and violence. Whenever his rage boiled over, I became the target of his wrath, enduring beatings that had become all too familiar over the years. It was a cycle I had grown accustomed to, a grim reality that I had come to accept as my fate.

Despite the desire for change lingering within me, I felt paralyzed, unsure of where to even begin. So, resigned to my circumstances, I settled down for a nap, seeking solace in the oblivion of sleep, if only temporarily.

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As Monday rolled around once more, I resumed my usual daily routine, trying to push last week's incident to the back of my mind. I hadn't heard a single word from the guy who had intervened, nor had I made any effort to seek him out. It was easier to just let things be, for both his sake and mine.

The day began with a math lecture, a subject I excelled in. I felt a sense of relief knowing that, at least in academics, I didn't have to worry about being targeted. As the teacher demonstrated concepts on the blackboard, I noticed the usual divide among my classmates. Some were engrossed in the lecture, diligently taking notes, while others were more preoccupied with passing around cheat sheets, their focus elsewhere.