Secrets of Bollywood lie everywhere. Stories that didn't quite make the cut for a book. Short stories, stories I wrote while half asleep and stories that break barriers I couldn't before. The place where my new writing styles lies and where I write...
based off a character in pyaar koi khel nai hai. please, if you have not read it, refrain from reading so as it contains spoilers 🌹💞
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Tears are a strange thing.
They pour out no matter how hard you try to conceal them. They show ten minutes later, no matter how hard you scrub your red cheeks and eyes. They mark your skin. They show the blood your heart makes when it breaks, the blood that pours through your eyes like tears.
The crack in your voice. The hand clutching at the nearest thing. The look in your eyes, the final desperation of staying calm and not loosing all your emotions within a moment. It doesn't last long, and the ache in your heart is pounding. It gives up. You give up.
The crack breaks open, breaking your heart in half as the blood of it pours through your eyes. It leaves red marks on your cheeks, horrid sobs and cracks of your torn heart and a strange feeling at the back of your throat where your words are. The words that you struggle to pin together to explain what it feels like to see your world falling apart.
How would anyone explain the horrid ache in your heart? The throb of it, how it bangs against your chest in repetitive motions and how it clangs in silence. And then, nothing. The tears are over. There is nothing left.
That is nothing is your heart, replaced by a gaping hole. You are stronger. More. There is less emotions behind your dark eyes. You are strong. Your heart weighed you down. It was a stone strung across a drowning body, took you down to the sandy floors of the floor when you want to float with the currents.
Nothing. A hollow nothing where that stone was. Nothing. No emotions. No tears. No streaks of pain, no red nose from tears, no trace of light in the mirror beside you. There is nothing left, there is nothing left of who used to be. You are stronger.
Yet you will crumble within a moment. Within a kiss. Within the soft tones of their voice, with the reassuring brown eyes you fell in love with. You'll fall again for the poison you were in love with, the one that had ripped you into shreads.
We know -- you know -- what will happen tommorow when they apologize. When they say that it was a dumb mistake, that you're worth it. How they'll expectedly watch you to apologize too, when you've done nothing wrong.
There's hope in their eyes. Softness in their voice. Warmth in their hands that rub your knee.
You'll swallow your pride. Chew it down. Watch them with hope. You'll nod. Think fast. Your irrational heart is back. It thumps. It tells you to listen to it. So you do. You swallow your pride. Your understanding. The tears. The broken shards of your heart.
All for this person who has cause more heartache than love.
Why do you. Why do you always end up playing the same game over and over? Why do you fall for their traps, for their apologies when you know it'll happen again? That you'll clutch the edge of a sink. Stare at a mirror. Tears streams down. Red lines on your cheeks. You'll wonder why you weren't enough. What you did wrong. What's wrong with you. You'll fall right back into their trap, so easily because of this dumb heart of yours.
But, how can you escape him? Escape his soft lips, his sweet talking, the small upturn of his smile . . . How can she ever fool herself into thinking she'll live without him? He'll never let her think, even for a second, that she'll manage without him. Dependant. He made her dependant on him, a wise game from him that took every twinkle her eyes away whenever he is gone.
He fooled her into thinking that spending nights crying and staring at a mirror, wondering what she lacks at 9.51 pm is better than spending nights in empty beds. A chal, a khel, a game that ensures his favorite toy will never run away until he wants it to.
So until she realizes she has been drinking poisons and illusions, she is cursed to these 9.51 pm thoughts. She is cursed to grip the sink. To watch herself with tears in her eyes. To shrink and sob with despair in her eyes for the person in the mirror.
Afterwards, she'll truly wonder what is the poison here that alit her hatred for herself; his games, her foolishness or love itself? What was about it all that made her sob? Was it the illusion of love, the cloudy despair of this wicked thing that led her like this? Or was it her idiotacy to fall for his games over and over?
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the original piece was in no way associated with pkknh (it was a venting thing. i wanted to turn my sadness into something productive) but after a while, i realized what i wrote could easily be used for a one shot for pkknh. after some editing, adding a tad of words there and here, we have this!
fun fact: i wrote the orginal at 9.51 so hence the title.
how was it? i was thinking of using it as a prologue but nah. i like it as an one shot. vote?
