Beneath the Surface

Chapter 2: The End of a Tyrant

The storm outside the small house was raging, heavy rain battering the tin roof and filling the air with a constant drumming sound. Inside, the storm had already arrived. Raju sat on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest, staring blankly at the cracked walls. The shouting from the next room had been going on for hours, louder than usual, more dangerous. His father's deep, growling voice echoed through the thin walls, and his mother's strained replies barely broke through the sound of thunder.

Raju's mind felt detached, floating somewhere beyond the chaos. He had learned to block it out over the years, to retreat to a place in his head where the fear couldn't reach him. But tonight felt different. There was something sharper in the air, a tension that made the hair on his arms stand on end.

His mother's voice cracked again, pleading, desperate. "Please, Prabhakar, stop!" she cried, her words almost drowned by the howling wind outside.

Prabhakar, his father, didn't stop. He never stopped.

"Shut up, Rathna!" his father barked back, the sound of something shattering following his words. It was probably a glass, or a plate-Raju had heard that sound too many times to flinch at it anymore.

Rathna. Raju's mother. She had always been the one begging, the one taking the blows, trying to keep the fragile peace between them all. But tonight, something in her voice was different too. It wasn't just fear. There was something else-a kind of finality.

Raju curled tighter, pulling the thin sheet over his head as though it could block out the sounds. The world outside his room was a war zone, one he had been forced to live in for as long as he could remember. His father, Prabhakar, a man consumed by his own failures, took out his anger on the only things he had control over: his wife and his son. And his mother, Rathna, had slowly dissolved into the background, becoming little more than a shadow of the woman she had once been.

He didn't know why she stayed, why she let it continue for so many years. But Raju had given up trying to understand his mother's decisions. He had given up on a lot of things.

Suddenly, a loud crash came from the kitchen, followed by silence. Raju's breath caught in his throat. Silence was the worst sound of all in this house. Silence meant something had happened. Something bad.

He pulled the sheet down slowly, his body stiff as he listened. His heart pounded in his chest, louder than the rain outside.

Then, a sound-soft, uneven footsteps.

Raju's mind raced. What now? What had happened?

The door to his room creaked open, and Rathna appeared in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes wide and wild. There was something in her hand-something dark and heavy. It took a moment for Raju to realize what it was.

A kitchen knife.

She stood there, motionless, the knife hanging loosely from her fingers, blood dripping from its edge. The dim light cast eerie shadows across her face, making her look like a stranger. Raju's stomach twisted.

"Amma...?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding rain.

She didn't answer. She just stood there, staring at him as though seeing him for the first time. Her lips trembled, and for a moment, Raju thought she might speak, but no words came.

The silence stretched between them, unbearable.

Then, finally, she spoke, her voice hoarse and broken. "It's over, Raju."

---

They found Prabhakar in the kitchen, his body slumped against the broken table, blood pooling around him. The knife had cut deep, and it didn't take long for Rathna to call the neighbors, her voice hollow as she explained what had happened.

Self-defense, she told them. He had come at her with a bottle, threatening to kill her this time. She had grabbed the knife in panic, not thinking, just reacting. It had all happened so fast, too fast for her to stop herself.

The police took Rathna away that night. They didn't ask too many questions-everyone in the neighborhood knew Prabhakar, knew the kind of man he was. They knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

But that didn't make it easier for Raju.

He stood in the kitchen, staring at the spot where his father's body had been, the bloodstains still visible on the cracked tiles. His mind felt blank, unable to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. His father was dead. His mother was gone. And now, he was alone.