Death.
Too much blood.
Everywhere.
Every corner.
Blinking my eyes, I skimmed my gaze through the room, the white walls of our room dripped with blood, one drop running after another. Terrified, I stumbled on the bean bag and pushed it aside with a groan.
Blood.
Red splatter, one after another.
No. No.
Kabir. Where was Kabir?
I tried to scream his name, but the fear held it down, the fear seized my vocals and all I could do was shiver in coldness and darkness of the room. Ice snaked through my leg, each gripping and lashing at the sight of the torn and blood-soaked shirts.
And I stumbled.
Adyant's shirt.
Blood soaked.
No. No.
Swallowing the scream, I bent down on the floor and picked it up to see the blood dripping down, the scraps of skin stitched to it.
Adyant.
Kiara.
Her hair, cut down next to the pile of clothes.
Kabir.
Adyant.
Kiara.
Huffing, I balanced on my toes, ignored the growing tears, the wetness that ran down the skin, the dark danger engraving my heart. Skidding my feet, I ran out of the room, paced my head back and forth to find the spiderwebs covering each corner of the hall, the covers of the sofas torn apart with knives, the glass adorning the floor.
What was happening?
Shaking my head, I took the flight of stairs. "Kiara! Adyant!" I screamed their name, channeled all my energy into them. "Kabir!" Twisting the knob of their door, I entered, pressed the buttons and screeched, loudly and ugly.
I screamed, placed my hands on my ears, kicked my legs, dodged the reality adorning the walls and floor.
Mutilated.
Annihilation.
Kiara, cut open in half, her mouth opened in a hollow scream, blood raining down her stomach. Her head rolled to my side, her hands sprawled on the face.
My baby.
Crawling to her side, I held her head in my lap, brushed my fingertips on her sweet little face.
Mamma, I want this. Come. Come.
Shaking my head, I skimmed it to Adyant, his head separated from his body, his smile twisted in a cruel line, his clothes torn in pieces.
Mamma, Kiara is irritating me.
Blocking the sobs, I peered at the man hanged on the corner of the room.
Kabir.
Not him.
Bookworm, you are my wife. Just mine.
Shaking my head, I glanced at his foot, and screamed, shouted, wailed until the vocals of my throat felt dying, until everything felt dark and painted in a tragedy of my own will, until my emotions snapped up in two pieces, until I stood up on my toes, grabbed the knife and plunged at the bodies, again and again.
My clothes painted red.
My hands dipped in blood.
My face decorated with a sinister smile.
YOU ARE READING
Always Is Not Forever (Breaking Myself - Part II)
RomanceFor Alina, the worse has already happened and no longer she closed herself in the chains of the past. She got everything a girl could ask for. A boy who loved her, parents back to normal and the new start. For Kabir, the worse he could see had happe...
