Tu hi yeh mujhko bata de Chaahoon main ya na Apne tu dil ka pata de Chaahoon main ya na
~ Rohan
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Darkness stretches endlessly around me, thick and suffocating. The scent of salt and something metallic clings to the air, making it hard to breathe. My feet barely move, stumbling over broken crates and damp wood as the cold wind bites at my skin. The waves crash violently against the port, but even their thunderous roar cannot drown out the sounds-those horrible, gut-wrenching sounds.
Laughter. Cruel, twisted laughter. And beneath it-whimpers. Cries of agony.
My heart clenches painfully as my gaze locks onto the figures ahead. Shadows, faceless and monstrous, surrounding someone... someone who trembles under their grasp. The flickering lantern light barely illuminates them, but I don't need to see-I can hear the pain, feel it like a blade slicing through my own skin.
"No!" My voice rips through my throat, hoarse and desperate. "Leave them alone! Please!"
My legs give out before I can take another step, my body collapsing onto the wet ground. I reach out, my fingers digging into the splintered wood as if I can crawl my way toward them, but my strength is fading. My lungs burn, my vision swims, but I scream again-
"Stop! Please! They- they didn't do anything!"
They don't listen. They never listen.
Tears blur my sight, hot and relentless, as I press my palms against my ears. I can't hear this. I can't watch. But I do. I do because I'm powerless to do anything else.
"Kanha Ji....please..." My sobs break between words. "Bhai... help... come fast... I can't- I can't stop them-"
The world spins, the sounds merging into a deafening roar. My limbs grow heavy, my mind slipping, drowning in the unbearable weight of helplessness. Darkness pulls me under-
And then-
I am somewhere else.
Cold. Silent. The air here is heavier, suffocating in a different way. I blink, my lashes wet with tears, but when I look down-
I freeze.
My hands.
Crimson. Thick, warm, fresh.
The scent of iron fills my lungs, and I gasp, choking on nothing but panic. My fingers tremble as I try to wipe it off, but it's everywhere-seeping into the creases of my palms, staining the fabric of my clothes.
