"I'm not your brother." A devil smile played on his lips.
Elevating the right brow, I asked, "What do you mean?"
My hand clenched the beer bottle as his gaze intruded into mine.
I hated him. I told the ugliest things of my life to him. I confessed...
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"Sometimes I still wonder why things happened the way they did."
Nisha's POV:-
Scrutinizing the dark blanket of night, my fingers curled around my phone. Humid air cut through my legs, but no feeling coursed through inside me. Was Tina right? Was I becoming a monster without any peak of a feeling? But what was I supposed to feel? Nowadays, everything seemed too dull and everything made me angry like a volcano was lingering on the surface, waiting for a signal to come and wrap his hands around me.
Huh.
The mess was getting messier.
Nisha, you were okay. Just stop thinking and get out of this place before Kabir calls and ask where are you.
I had no desire to hear his scolding on how should I be responsible and not go to these type of bars. I hated the fact he didn't drink anymore, and I hated how he didn't see I wasn't him and I liked drinking. Checking the time on the watch, I walked towards my car. I was about to open the door when I heard yelling.
Confused, I paced my head back and forth, searching for the owner of the voice. I should get the hell out of here. It was the bad part of the city, not meant for people like me. But my warning never did anything good to me and I found my feet trudging towards the owner of the voice. Here comes my funeral.
In the dark aisle, I could see two dark figures, talking in hiss voices. That was all I could manage to see. Inching closer, I hid behind the concrete wall, and after a second, I heard a moan of pain. I was about to run away when the noise of running footsteps invaded my ear and the bulky person ran away, not bothering to look at the right side.
A selfish part of me wanted to run away. But then I remembered I was going to be a doctor, and the moans were from the injury. I needed to help him.
Taking out my phone, I turned on the torch and detached myself from the wall. Walking in the dark alley with my phone torch, my gaze frantically swayed for the person. There he was. Lying on the floor, hand on his stomach and a glare on his face.
"Rahul," I whispered. I moved the light to his stomach, seeing a pool of blood cloaking his shirt. Not bothering for anything, I knelt down on the floor and tried to touch his shirt, but he shoved my hand away. Feeling a pulse of anger, I tried again but he shoved it. "You know I can ask what happened, but I really don't care. I just need to see the wound."
I gulped loudly, trying not to pass any emotion of fear and care.
"This isn't a damn museum. Get lost," He hissed and moaned.
"What is your problem?" My eyes shifted to his. "I can leave you alone after you said to me." And hurt a part of me like always. By this time, his words should stop affecting me, but no, every time they knew a way to my heart.
