Hi,
I wanted to reveal this slower, there will be explanations, but getting past this point is essential for the story, and at the moment I cannot help but write something intense. So I opted for posting this part today.
The flashbacks are in bold and they belong to Ri.
Hope you will enjoy!
Addiction
He heard it in the middle of the night. The steady beat of the drum, the vibrations so powerful in the air. For a moment, when he was dwelling between sleep and wakefulness, the rhythm had found its way into his circulation and thumped against his pulse. He did not know how it happened, but the sound slamming against him in waves of energy had him in such a grip that Omkara could not drew in the next breath, for a matter of good few seconds. Rubbing the sleep of his eyes, he checked the time, wondering when he had dozed off in that arm - chair by the window, and realized it was half past eleven. Not a very convenient time for someone to be practicing on their drum set. In his mobile screen a message from Jai was flashing - who was off to party in a place he did not approve, a miss call from Rudra, and a taunting text; aisi kaun mill gayi jo app humain bhool gaye O?
For no reason the words conjured up an image, of a girl dancing in a ring of neon spotlights, of a pair of espresso colored eyes and in the back ground of his wavering mind the drums continued to beat. Omkara shook his head, even from a distance Rudra could mess up with his sanity. Deciding to distract himself by leaving the confinements of his room, he walked out, unmindfully walking towards the source of the sound.
His feet lead him to a room painted in darker shades of blue, contrastingly bright radium stars were scatted across the wall opposite the door and there in spray writing was written the word PRINCESS. He sensed her before he saw her, and against his better judgement his eyes sought her out in the shadowy corner.
She had her back to him. The sliver lights reflected by the edges of the drum set outlined her profile against the darkness. In the eyes of an artist, she made the perfect picture of passion and obsession, a war of mind against nature. The dark hues that surrounded her were disturbed by the straps of dazzling light reflected from the drumsticks, that flung themselves against the beaten drum - like a thunder ravishing the earth.
The skin of her cheek stung at the contact. Her head snapped back, and her gaze wavered with the force which was thrown at her, in form of a slap. Her eyes watered, but they did not look away. Blinking the saltiness away, Ri looked at Raagav, the man, the world called her father.
"I should have known it was all an act, I should have known, there was no way a girl like you would truly ever belong to one person!" He muttered some more, in his absolutely furious splatter of words that followed the slap. Inside the sound proof cabin of his high - rise office building, no one would hear them, or interfere the moment when he unleashed his rage on the girl who always brought his head down in shame.
"Is that why you planned to sell me off to the highest business deal you could secure, uncle?" She shot back, in a tone that was equally bitter if not more. Uncle, the word she always threw at him, as a reminder of their true relationship. He was her stepfather, the man her mother had married an year before her untimely death; not her father, a position she would never give him.
"You dirty little - " he swallowed the word, fisting his fingers and his face turning a darker shade of purple. "Do you really think I will entertain this behavior? That I will continue to spend my money on your adventures?"
"Well you have to," Ri said in a dismissive tone. "Isn't it the way its done? Isn't it what you raised me for? To polish and show off and auction at the highest possible prize? Why are you getting agitated when I'm doing it so well on my own?"
She was totally lost to the world, to the measly surroundings of the mortal world and her soul reached out to something beyond. He had never felt such a surge of power emanating from a performance, let along a person. It was like flames danced around her as she unleashed her pain to the dead night, knowing no one heard, or understood, still simply letting it pour, for the sake of taking the burden off her shoulders.
"I am not a business asset! I don't have a prize tag!"
Another slap, this time more stinging than the last one.
"Do you know what I had to listen to from Amit's parents after your little stunt? This is it Gauri, your endeavors, ends here. Now I have decided who you're going to get married to, and you will marry him by the time I see fit!"
"And what if I tell him exactly what I think of both of you?"
There was a wicked gleam in her stepfather's eye, as his fingers curled around her shoulder, pulling her closer so that she could see the determination in his eyes.
"The man I've chosen, will know exactly how to deal with it then."
The malice in his expression made her gulp.
"When?" she croaked.
"We'll be leaving for Bareilly in two weeks to meet him, the wedding is in two months."
The cymbals went off like a splatter of raindrops, on the earth she had already set ablaze by her beat. She reminded him of a chaos, of destruction and re - creation; a Rudra Thaandav of a different context. Then with a last power packed kick at the base drum, Ri collapsed on the set she had been previously unleashing her bottled up anger on, and broke into sobs.
The tears felt like acid on her eyes, burning her vision and any dreams she had dared to keep. Two months, was all she had; to be free; breathe; live. Two months and everything will be over.
He was still frozen at the threshold; now restrained there by a new reason. A sudden chill had gripped his heart as he watched the sobs wrack her petite frame, as her fists hit the drum she was leaning her cheeks against (the bushy curls hiding her face from his view). Their sound went unheard as a thunder roared in the sky outside. The weather was changing, a storm was coming.
Omkara took a step backwards, away from the girl and the shadowed room, away from the heart - wrenching sound her sobs. But for the entire night, the thought hung over him like a ghost he was cursed to be followed by; the thought that beneath the mask of a diva, Gauri Kumari Sharma had some rather ugly scars.
For a strange reason, he wanted to touch them. He wanted to see the girl beneath all those layers she projected for the world. And that moment he could have sworn, the need was not born out of compassion. He did not pity her, but he was terribly, irrevocably, attracted to her pain. Pain had always been an addiction to him, seemingly his subconscious had found a new drug.
"I have to stay away from her," he resolved to himself, shutting the door of his room, a little too louder than necessary. "It's the best for both of us."
**
Waiting to hear your take.
Sorry for any disappointments.
Thanks for reading!
Love,
Sakura
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