Beneath the Surface

Chapter 7: The Wounds of the Past

(Contains graphic elements)

Akilesh sat at his desk, the freshly delivered speed post package sitting before him, containing the physical case files that could unlock the mystery tying Raju to the present-day murders. He exhaled slowly, the weight of anticipation pressing on his chest. With careful hands, he pulled the thick stack of papers from the envelope.

The files were old, the edges worn from time, but the contents still held the darkness of something unresolved. As he flipped through the charge sheets, witness reports, and investigation notes, the same name kept resurfacing: Raju. It was as though the boy's past had been buried, but not deep enough.

And then, there it was. The first glimpse of Raju's life in the group home, a twisted, suffocating chapter of his childhood. Akilesh's eyes scanned the pages, piecing together the story that had never been fully told.

25 Years Ago - The Group Home

Raju had never known peace. Even after his mother was taken away and he was placed in the group home, the sense of survival Lingered. Life was a constant struggle, but it wasn't the physical pain or the bruises from the fights that wore him down-it was the silence. The endless, empty silence inside him. He felt hollow, as if everything that made him human had been slowly drained out over the years.

But then Kamal came into his life, like a burst of color in an otherwise grey world. Kamal was everything Raju wasn't- outgoing, charismatic, and always talking. He had an energy about him, a warmth that drew people in. While Raju had built walls around himself, Kamal shattered through them with ease. They became friends, best friends, in a place where trust was a rare commodity. For the first time in Raju's life, he felt the comfort of companionship, even if he couldn't fully reciprocate it.

Kamal had a fascination with girls. He could talk endlessly about them, his eyes lighting up whenever he spoke about one he liked. It was an obsession that made Raju uncomfortable, but Kamal would laugh it off. Raju, on the other hand, felt disconnected from such feelings. His life had been too harsh, too cruel, to ever allow room for romance or love.

But for Kamal, it was different. Kamal had fallen head over heels for a girl from a nearby town, a girl who studied at the school close to the group home. Raju didn't understand his friend's infatuation, but he listened because Kamal was the only person who made him feel less alone.

One evening, Kamal dragged Raju along with him to deliver a love letter to the girl. They sneaked out of the group home, hearts pounding with the thrill of rebellion. Kamal was nervous, almost trembling as they followed the girl and her friends to a remote area. She was surrounded by her group of friends-eleven girls in total, their laughter echoing in the quiet evening air.

Kamal approached her, his heart in his throat, and handed over the letter with a hopeful smile. But the moment she opened it, her face twisted into a look of disdain, her lips curling in cruel amusement. Her friends joined in, smirking as if Kamal was some pathetic joke.

She didn't even bother to wait until the next day to respond. Instead, she scribbled something quickly on the paper and handed it back to him. Kamal's hands shook as he unfolded it, and his face fell when he read the words: "Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?"

The mockery in her voice stung like a knife, and Kamal's hope crumbled in that instant. One of the girls, chewing gum with a look of pure malice, spat it at Kamal's feet. They all laughed as he stood there, humiliated, his face red with shame. Raju could see the hurt in his eyes, but Kamal tried to put on a brave face as they walked away.

That night, something in Kamal changed. He was quieter than usual, his cheerful demeanor replaced by a haunting sadness. Raju tried to comfort him, but words felt useless. Kamal had always been the one with words, not Raju.

Without Raju knowing, Kamal found solace in the bottle. Alcohol was forbidden at the home, but Kamal managed to sneak some in, desperate to drown out the humiliation. It wasn't long before one of the older women who worked at the home caught him. Instead of reporting him, she used it as an opportunity to manipulate him. At first, she threatened to expose him, but soon, the threats turned to blackmail

Kamal's secret became a weapon, and he was trapped. The woman abused him, and soon two others joined in. Kamal had always been the talkative, lively one, but in those moments, he was broken, powerless. His spirit was crushed by their abuse, and the light in his eyes faded with each passing day. The weight of it all became too much for him to bear.

One night, it was too much.

He couldn't take it anymore. The shame, the pain, the betrayal of those who should've protected him. They pushed him to the edge. He died while they abused him, his last breath stolen by their cruelty. In a panic, the women hung his lifeless body in the dining hall, staging it as a suicide.

The next morning, Raju woke early, his gut twisted with unease. He hadn't seen Kamal since the night before, and that gnawing feeling in his stomach wouldn't leave him. He searched for his friend, wandering through the halls until he found him.

Kamal's body hung lifeless from the ceiling, swaying gently in the early morning light.

Raju didn't scream. He didn't cry out in horror. He just stood there, numb, his heart hollow as the tears rolled down his face. There was no shock, no disbelief-only a cold, empty sorrow that seeped into his bones. He was empty.

Raju believed Kamal had killed himself because of the rejection from that girl, unaware of the horrors his friend had endured in his final moments. He thought it was the humiliation that had driven Kamal to this, but the truth was far darker. The group home staff bribed the local authorities to cover up the abuse, filing Kamal's death as a suicide. It was just another secret to be buried