MAY

26: DYING HURTS.

“I don't want to be your sun; I want to be your moon. Everyone could be your sunlight but I want to be the only moonlight that would brighten up your darkest hours.”
                               —Anonymous.
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C H A P T E R 26:

He raised the foot mat where he had hidden his door keys. It wasn't there. He flashed on his phone's torchlight and searched every corner of the floor, he still couldn't find it.

He became nervous and quite disturbed. He remembered placing it under the foot mat in his corridor before going out to visit a male friend of his and now, he was back but couldn't find his keys. Why?

The streets weren't nice and as it was, his neighborhood was unexpectedly quiet. Everyone was out. Either clubbing or sleeping. For some known reasons, he became a bit scared. What if armed men were inside his house? How was he going to defend himself when he had nothing on him?

He turned the door knob, the door opened quietly and he peeped inside. The coast was clear. No sight of another human inside.

As he tiptoed into his apartment, he became suddenly aware of his surroundings again. Any sound, and he would turn towards that direction out of fear.

He became calm when he noticed that everything inside his house was intact just the way he had left it. Maybe he had forgot to lock the door and thought he did.

Then he heard the sound of water dropping on the floor. It was coming from his bathroom.

What would armed men do there if there is even one?

He thought for a while, pacing to and fro before he came to a conclusion to check who it was.

He wasn't expecting to see her. Not that he was expecting anybody but not her. Not after what she said to him earlier. Not after she had misunderstood his kindness for lust. Not after she had taken his love— the love he was giving her— for granted.

The words she had said to him, had pained him to the bone. Forget the crap that men are strong enough to hold pain unlike women. Men are also humans. They feel. They have emotions. They can get hurt too.

He had sworn, it was the end of their friendship. But he couldn't get himself to throw her out of his apartment. All his anger had suddenly disappeared just mere looking at her. The effects only she has on him.

May was sitting on a stool, letting the drops of water, from the shower, to fall on her hair and down her shoulders. Soaking her clothes and making it hug her body. Her eyes were transfixed on the floor and he couldn't tell if she was crying or if it was just the water.

Iby stood by the door and watched her wordlessly. He didn't know what he was to say.

"There is fire. Fire, Iby." She started. Her voice, almost in a whisper.

He didn't know which surprised him. If it was the fact that she had noticed him enter the bathroom and decided to pretend she hadn't or what she had just said.

He looked around, confusion marred on his face. "Fire? Where?" he asked.

She laughed cynically. "You don't get it do you? There is fire in my head, burning in my soul, in my heart. It's burning.. It's destroying everything. I hardly have control over it."

"What are you saying?" He asked with widened eyes.

"I am a weak, useless, hopeless, stupid woman." She said trying to hold her sobs. "I can't help but hate my self. I hate the life I'm living. I hate that I wasn't aborted and was born to suffer on earth."