Living in a Mirage

Chapter Eighteen

"Half the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important. They don't mean to do harm, but the harm (that they cause) does not interest them. Or they do not see it, or they justify it because they are absorbed in the endless struggle to think well of themselves."

~ T.S. Eliot

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Dedicated to Aastha aka @optimismbeauty who is an absolute sweetheart and so kind and supportive, whom I wish well and the beautiful things in the universe! *___*

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His room once again was filled with the high pitch chirping noise of guitar, another attempt gone in vain. The sound was broken, crude to the ears and as he tried once again, he felt fear course through his body like nothing else, overpowering the annoyance he had been feeling before. His heart picked up the pace; beating fast in his chest as he felt panic overwhelmed him.

"No!" He whimpered as he looked down at his hands which lacked the coordination they used to have.

This shouldn't have happened to him, he thought, out of all the things possible, this shouldn't have happened to him.

He tried, again and again, with his hands shaking uncontrollably, he once again picked up the new guitar, placing it in his lap, he settled it between his arms, holding close to his chest. Closing his eyes, Manik took a shaky breath before, with his left hand, he once again touched the strings of the guitar as he had been doing for years, but it didn't create the desired sound. His fingers were too stiff, lacking the coordination and the agility that they had before, now they would only create broken, rusty sounds. He had been going on and on from the past few hours, but nothing changed...

It didn't matter, he was told to not panic, that it may take time but the coordination would come back, but the more he tried, the more fear of losing it intensified. His music and his guitar have been the source of his peace ever since he had discovered them, the only thing that kept him focused, the only thing that he could do for hours was making music and now more than ever he needed the peace that the music brought into his life, but alas...

He knew his doctors had feared that he may suffer from ataxia after the brain injury he had, but he was lucky as that wasn't the case. And when he got to know the after-effects of brain injuries, he realized just how lucky he was to escape his accident with a few broken bones and not some physical condition that would have made his life difficult for as long as he lived. But now as he looked at his guitar with longing, he couldn't help but wish for more.

His patience had been running thin for months now and he wanted to find a way to end the torture that came with being locked in the room with no one to keep him company. He couldn't even go out in the cold winter of London, with white snow covering everything and harsh weather, he was trapped, more than ever before...

Letting out a tiring sigh, Manik closed his eyes and he rubbed his eyes with his hands, refusing to let the tears escape, but the more he kept on with the refusal, the more suffocated he felt. The gloominess of everything he was surrounded by suddenly got too much, but he forced himself to not feel it. With his eyes tightly shut, he focused on making his breaths regular and forced his heart to stop beating in pain, but nothing was effective this time around.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, he was about to stand up to go for a walk, hoping that the fact that he no longer needed crutches to stand up would make him feel better, but as soon he stood up his feet, ignoring the current of now-familiar pain crossing trough them, he immediately felt better. Two days had passed, but he still felt it was the first time whenever he stood up on his own feet after the wait of eight months.