Shadows Of Fate

Chapter 2

"Kriti... it's hurting a lot. Please, give me my medicines. I am begging you, please," her uncle's voice was hoarse, broken with pain as he pleaded.

Kriti stood still, staring at the floor, her jaw clenched. The familiar sound of his suffering should have given her relief, but instead, it stirred something darker. She felt nothing. No pity. No mercy.

Suddenly, her mind flashed to a memory long buried

"Uncle, please! I am begging you, I'll do whatever you say. But please don't do this to me," she had sobbed, her voice desperate and small.

"Shut up," he had growled before slapping her hard across the face. The sting had burned, but worse was the fear that had rooted itself in her heart.

Her eyes fluttered open, pulling her back to the present.

"Kriti—" her uncle's voice croaked again, but she cut him off coldly.

"Shut up," she muttered, her tone empty as she turned her back on him. She couldn't bear to listen to his cries any longer, not after what he had done to her.

She walked away from the room, her footsteps echoing lightly on the cold, tiled floor. Entering her small, cluttered bedroom, she let the door close softly behind her, shutting him out completely.

Kriti stood by the narrow window, gazing out at as dusk slowly settled over the skyline. The lights from distant buildings flickered, casting a faint glow over the horizon, but to her, they felt miles away—like a world she didn't belong to. The weight of the evening pressed heavily against her chest, a reminder of the cage she still felt trapped in, even with her uncle now at her mercy.

Behind her, she could still hear his groans, his pitiful cries seeping through the walls. But she had trained herself to tune them out. Once, those groans would have filled her with terror. He had ruled her life with cruelty and fear for years. But that was before.

Now, it was his turn to suffer.

Her fingers traced the edge of the window frame, the cold glass soothing against her skin. Her mind swirled with the twisted satisfaction of knowing that, for once, she held the power. And yet, somewhere deep inside her, the weight of what she was doing began to claw at her conscience.

She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the pained sounds behind her, "This is only the beginning."

She paused, her breath hitching slightly.

"You are going to pay for this. I will kill you."

The words had come out of nowhere, an icy chill crawling up her spine as they echoed in her mind. But they hadn't come from her lips. She had not said them.

A gasp escaped her. The voice—the chilling, unfamiliar voice—felt like it had come from somewhere else. Somewhere deep within her.

A flicker of a memory stirred deep inside her, from a time long before her uncle had entered her life. Before the torment. But like every other time she tried to grasp at those shadows, the memory slipped away, dissolving into nothingness, leaving her only with a cold, empty void.

"What was that?" she wondered, her heart racing. The voice was not hers, but it felt disturbingly familiar. "Was it something from my past?"

Kriti turned away from the window, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to steady her breathing. 

Her uncle's desperate pleas filled the silence again, calling her name, but she didn't answer. For the first time in weeks, doubt began to creep in. She stared at the floor, her mind racing.