||•BLACK WATERS•||

6.0

Vikram's POV

I blinked against the bright lights of the hospital room, my senses slowly coming into focus. I could see everyone walking in and out of the ward, their faces brightened by wide smiles. The atmosphere buzzed with an energy that should have felt uplifting, but it only deepened the knot in my stomach.

My mother sat by my side, her warm hands enveloping mine as she whispered reassurances. Despite her comforting presence, the unsettling fear clung to me like a shadow, making it difficult to breathe. Jhanvi aunty, managed to coax our mother into taking a break sensing my discomfort, but I remained adrift in a sea of confusion.

I should have felt happiness, relief even, but instead, I felt hollow. A strange, unknown fear engulfed me, a dark cloud that grew denser with each passing minute. My mind felt clouded, and a persistent headache throbbed, exacerbating my growing unease. The chaos and violence of that day haunted me, leaving me overwhelmed and isolated. Doubts swirled in my mind like autumn leaves in a storm; I found it hard to trust anyone, even the well-meaning faces surrounding me.

The doctors told that the medications they prescribed would make me dizzy. It did, it felt as if the world were tilting on its axis. I couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister lurked behind the walls of the hospital, ready to pounce. Each time I closed my eyes, I envisioned masked figures closing in on me—bloodthirsty and malevolent. It felt like I was slowly succumbing to an unknown darkness, one that awaited me with arms wide open.

Just as I thought I might slip into a dreamless sleep, a sudden sound jolted me awake—a sharp, metallic clang, like a hammer striking steel. My heart raced as I tried to make sense of it. Was it a figment of my imagination, or had I truly heard something?

I scanned the room, but it was empty. Just me, the rhythmic drip of the saline, and the beeping machines. The windows were closed tight, the drapes drawn, and the oppressive silence felt suffocating. My left arm throbbed with pain, and my whole body felt heavy from lying in the same position. I was about to attempt moving when the door creaked open.

My breath hitched as I froze, my eyes darting toward the entrance. The door slowly opened wider, and I squinted, my heart racing. A figure hesitated, peering into the room before suddenly retreating, closing the door with a soft click.

I stared at the door, my heart pounding in my chest. Seconds felt like hours, and just as I was about to dismiss the encounter as another figment of my anxious mind, the door swung open again. This time, Maya stepped inside, a wide smile illuminating her face as she carried a small basket filled with vibrant flowers.

"Hello, sir!" she greeted cheerfully, her presence like a warm ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. As she approached, the sweet fragrance of the flowers enveloped me, soothing the tension that had settled in my chest.

"Feeling better, sir?" she asked, placing the basket on the table beside my bed. A few flowers tumbled out, their colors bright and cheerful.

I nodded, a small smile creeping onto my face. For a moment, the heaviness lifted, and I felt a flicker of warmth spread through me.

"Please don't move," she added, her tone suddenly serious as she rushed to my side, gently urging me back against the pillows. "You're not supposed to strain yourself."

I sighed, sinking back into the bed, grateful for her kindness. She adjusted the bed so I was sitting up slightly, and I let out an audible sigh of relief.

"I thought the flowers might help you feel better," she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork, her hands clasped behind her back.

As I gazed at the basket, my heart warmed a little more. The vibrant colors and delicate petals brought a sense of comfort I hadn't expected. Maya's genuine smile and thoughtful gesture chased away some of my lingering shadows, if only for a moment.

"Get well soon, sir! I'll take my leave now," she said, checking her phone as it buzzed.

I nodded, waving my hand as she turned to leave. As the door clicked shut behind her, my smile slowly faded, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.

I turned my gaze back to the flowers, their bright orange stems and soft white petals almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. As I leaned closer to examine them, I noticed a small heart embroidered with a 'V' at the bottom left corner of the basket. Someone had taken the time to make this, to wish me well. It sparked a small ember of hope within me.

The sweet fragrance of the Parijatha flowers transported me back to sunlit days spent under the old tree in the backyard of our home. Memories flooded my mind—my grandmother singing lullabies, her gentle voice weaving stories that lulled me to sleep while the stars twinkled above. Those moments had felt so safe, so filled with love.

But now, as I lay in the sterile confines of the hospital, I felt a stark contrast to that warmth. The memories felt like a distant echo, overshadowed by the fear and isolation that gripped me. The song she used to sing, a melody so familiar, began to play in my mind, soft and soothing. It carried me to a place of tranquility, if only for a moment.

Closing my eyes, I let the haunting refrain wash over me, trying to drown out the dark thoughts swirling in my head. But the fear clung to me like a shadow, whispering uncertainties that refused to fade away.

As I drifted deeper into my memories, I felt the darkness creeping back, gnawing at the edges of my mind. I opened my eyes, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was, how exposed I felt in this place. The silence felt deafening, and I wished for someone to confide in, someone who could anchor me amidst the storm.

In the dim light, I could almost see my grandmother, her comforting presence a balm for my frayed nerves. I longed to hear her voice again, to feel the warmth of her love wrap around me like a protective blanket. But the room remained empty, the shadows closing in.

With a heavy heart, I looked back at the flowers, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to my overwhelming emotions. I realized I had to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume me.

Taking a deep breath, I focused on the memories of laughter and love, letting them strengthen my resolve. I might feel lost now, but I wouldn't give in. I would emerge from this darkness, just as I had before.

I sat up a bit more, adjusting my position as I tried to shake off the heaviness. I needed to remember who I was beyond this moment of vulnerability. I had faced challenges before; this was just another hurdle in a long series of trials. I needed to reclaim my sense of self.

As I reflected on my life before all this chaos, I thought about my aspirations, my ambitions. I had a future waiting for me, a life filled with dreams and goals I wanted to achieve. The darkness might be daunting, but I was determined to step back into the light.

The love of those around me— Saanvi, even Maya—would be my guiding light. Their smiles, their kindness, and their unwavering support meant the world to me. I could lean on them when I felt weak, and together we could face whatever storm lay ahead.

With that thought, I settled back into my bed, letting the melody of my grandmother's song cradle me once more. I focused on the flowers, allowing their beauty to fill me with hope. I envisioned brighter days ahead, days when I would laugh freely, unburdened by fear.

As the shadows lingered, I made a silent promise to myself: I would fight. I would not let the darkness win. I would emerge stronger, determined to reclaim my life and the joy that awaited me. The journey ahead would be challenging, but I wouldn't face it alone. I would hold onto the love surrounding me, using it as my shield against the shadows.

And with that renewed sense of hope, I closed my eyes, allowing the sweet memories of my grandmother to envelop me, reminding me that even in the darkest moments, light could still break through