Rajas : Passion Unveiled

Chapter 89

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Ishani's POV

My mothers sobs were the only thing I could hear. I had tuned out my brother's shouts as Shreyansh bhaiya and Ayansh held him back. Shreya was holding me afraid that I would collapse. I was frozen. I felt numb. Utterly numb.

He is not my father. He is not my father. 

I am not his daughter. 

I am not his blood.

Father kept yelling at me and my mother. Spewing abhorrent curses at me and how I deserved everything that happened with me. That he did to me.

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to think.

Father's- no- Mr.Agnihotri's eyes widen as I punch him hard. With a force so strong he falls to the floor. I grab the broken shard of the glass vase and kneel before him. "Are you out of your mind?! What the hell are you doing?!", his panicked shouts echo in the house. House. Not home. This was never a home.

I can vaguely hear my mother pleading me, begging me to stop. But I don't. I can't. I'm not thinking and I don't want to think.

I hold up Mr.Agnihotri's hand and slice his forearm with the shard. He screams in agony as a deep gash is formed that gurgles up dark red blood. He screeches in pain, clutching his bleeding arm. My mother pushes me out of the way as she goes to him, tears streaming down her eyes. He keeps pushing her away but she sticks to his side. 

What a fool...

"What have you done?!", she screams her soft hands hitting me. But I feel nothing. She's weak. Truly weak. Pathetic.

I ignore her as I hold his bleeding arm and press my fingers into the gash. My fingers feel his soft flesh that squelches as I press and widen it. The cold flow of the blood coats my hands, painting them in his pain. And my triumph.

He screams as pain flourishes down his body. I use the same shard to slice his palm. The same palm, the same hand that hit me. Burnt me. Abused me. Rising to my feet I kick his chest making him fall on his back. 

"Ishani", my mother's weak warning falls on deaf ears. I raise my hand and jam the shard straight into his left knee cap. He writhes on the floor screaming in agony as his impure blood touches the floor and stains it with his sins. 

I grin at the sight. The same leg that kicked me. I throw the shard away and stand up looking down at his body thrashing on the floor. My hands are stained red and so is my top, soaking in the dark hues of his blood, purifying me. Ridding me of the burden of carrying his sins.