Mr. Lucifer Ms. Princess

55.

Abhimanyu's narrative

Not even once in my life did I ever think that I would loose my sister again. If someone asked me what the best form of torture is, I'd definitely say the emotional one. Undeniably, I never came to know what exactly happened that night.

Did I rape her?

Or did I not?

If yes, then why did I do it?

If no, then what was I doing at the crime scene?

Nothing seems to add up in my mind, and that's making me slowly loose control over my thoughts and actions. These past months, I've seen her, working and working and just...working. It's like that's all she seems to be doing. Drowning in work to escape her thoughts.

An unhealthy tactic, but relatable nonetheless.

I've seen her. Observed. She's not the same little girl, obviously, and extremely mature. It's seems she's more mature than her age. She's excellent at her work, not the best, but really impressive.

She has room for improvement and whenever her designs came to me, I really felt the itch to correct some of the things myself with her, but I couldn't. All I could do was to sit and watch as other designers provided her the insight I wanted to give.

It's already been quite a few months since I've met her...seen her...and not even once did we ever talked. She was too scared, and I was too guilty.

But not today. I'm going to talk, and she has to listen. The least I get is a chance to know what happened and to tell my side of the story.

So here I am, sitting in a public cafe, waiting for her to arrive alone. And as soon as I saw her walking towards my table with Samaira by her side, I dismissed the latter.

"But-"

I raised my palm, a gesture to convey I wasn't going to have any disagreements on my command, looking ahead expressionlessly. As soon as Samaira left begrudgingly, which didn't bother me in the slightest, I looked at Amayra who was looking back at me calmly.

"We're going to talk."

"About what?"

I almost pursed my lips at her feigned confusion. Even after all these years, she still thought I wouldn't look right through her.

"About whatever you think should be left back. About the incident of your rape." There, I said it and then her reaction. Priceless. I don't know what she expected when I have always been the blunt one.

"You should be considerate about saying something like that." Her response impressed me, and so did her courage. It takes guts to sit in front of your rapist...or the person you think is your rapist, and say something like that.

"Amayra," my voice turned soft, almost vulnerable. "I don't know what to even speak, but I don't remember anything. I swear, I remember nothing." She looked at me and I could see her jaw clenching. "But I do. I saw you. Your eyes." My heart dropped at the words.

So it was me?

"Why? What are you trying to do? You should know that it took me all my courage to come here. Why do you think it was a good idea to talk?" Her voice was a mixture of sharpness and fear.