WARNING - THIS CHAPTER TOUCHES SOME DARK TOPICS
CHAPTER - 23
The bitter liquid rushed down her throat tingling, her muted nerves back to fold. Her thoughts appeared clearer, sharper, a finite edge to the endless.
She got up from her armchair gently making her way towards the large life size mirror on the wall, her movements stiff awarding her recent injuries her due.
The mirror reflected herself; gowned in expensive crimson, her dark brown hair coiffed up to a bun a few ringlets falling down framing the cut of her face, contrasting heavily with her pale skin and deep red lips. Her unusual bottle green eyes often mistaken for a darker shade were outlined by kohl, enhancing their beauty.
She looked gorgeous, as usual.
After all PhoolKanwar Rathore never looked anything less than beautiful.
It was funny how even unwilling, she could look no less pretty.
Phool stared at her reflection with unseeing eyes. A sense of numbness pervaded in her.
Marriage. To Jagmaal Suryavanshi.
It was funny how the biggest decision of her life was taken and she was not even informed of it until everything was ready.
Her opinions were not even bothered with.
She remembered her father was vehemently against it. But her grandfather and other family members drowned his protests. Even her mother was agreeable to this relation.
It had only been a month since her extended stay in the hospital bed. The moment she was released, she was put to a day of bed rest and next day her grandmother took her to the parlour. When she asked the reason, she had said that she was to be beautified for her fiance.
A sad smile graced her lips. It was the first time she had heard of her upcoming wedding. At first she had thought it to be a joke. But soon it got pretty old.
She had argued, protested, cried out, begged for them to reconsider or at least give her time. She wanted, no needed time. To settle her thoughts, her peace of mind.
But no one was bothered by it and sometimes it felt as if she was still stuck in the past and all others had moved ahead.
Her fears. She felt a pain in her light up.
Her nightmares. She gripped a handful of her gown tightly. Stop it, she told herself. Stop thinking in that direction. Stop.
Her accident...
It was as if a dam had burst through. The gown tore up at her tight grip.
The sudden fear of her pursuers, the jerk of the car hitting the tree, the painful stinging as broken glass showered on her, her ears resounding with a hollow thrum, the excruciating suffocation, the smell of something burning filling up her up.
She took in a shuddered breath as she stumbled back. Her hands shook terribly. Sweat beads littered her forehead as she took in gulps of air.
The room felt heady now. She lifted her head to stare at the ceiling.
It was blue.
The ceiling was blue.
But her room had red ceiling.
Her head felt heavy.
Blue ceiling... her breaths turned laboured. She didn't like blue. Hated it.
Blue bad. Red good.
Blue bad bad bad bad bad.
Not good not good not good.
But... she had blue ceiling once.
Years ago. A different house. Different room. Lit up with blues. Azure curtains, cyan carpets...
Her spine jerked forward and she crumpled on the floor.
She was smaller now, her hair bound tightly in two pig-tails.
Little Phool was sad. Her Pari angel had gone away. Little Phool knew it was her fault, but she didn't know, Dadu and Dadi would take her away.
Now she was all alone. Nobody wanted to play with her. They were all busy.
The door creaked open. Startled little Phool dropped her doll. She turned around and saw him. She grinned happily.
He was her good friend. But Pari hadn't liked him. So after she went he would come to meet her. He would give her tasty clairs and even told her that he loved her very much. When he said that, he got a strange look in his face but she didn't care. He was her best friend now and she told him she loved him too.
"Hello little beautiful fairy!" he called out as he stepped into the room and closed the door.
"You came!" Phool exclaimed joyously.
He gave her a wide smile and walked forward stumbling.
Little Phool frowned. "Are you all right friend?"
"Ah yes, yes," he smiled and took a swig from a glass bottle. He then came forward with wobbly steps and sat on the bed. He placed the bottle on the floor and put his hand deep inside his pocket.
"Come now little fairy, give me a hug" he crowed holding up three big chocolate bars.
Little Phool beamed. She ran to him and threw her arms around him
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
He gently patted her. "Ok little sweetheart. Now sit." He lifted her by her waist and sat her on his lap.
Little Phool immediately snatched a bar.
For a time the room was silent except for the occasional sound of her munching the waffle.
"Darling? Do you want to play a game?"
Little Phool swivelled around. "Game! Yes,Yes,yes!"
He smiled.
Phool let out a soundless cry. Something shattered and she felt her hand hit something cold and sharp.
Somebody let out a shriek. Footsteps echoed.
"PHOOL!" someone jerked her calling her name again and again.
And then she felt somebody touch her hand.
He was touching her again.
"Ah my little one! So beautiful." His large hand was under her chemise, all over her chest. It felt weird, uncomfortable.
"I don't want to play" little Phool wiggled, trying to get out of the bed.
It happened quickly.
His hand pinched her on her chest and a sharp pain jolted her.
She cried out and kicked him hard.
But he was bigger.
His hands moved all over. From her chest to her legs. Chapped, harsh lips pressed on her soft ones, the smell of beer on his breathe suffocating her.
She cried. She wanted her Maa. Her Pari Di.
And then...PAIN! PAIN! PAIN!
A murmur of voices penetrated her blanket of sleep.
"I told you she isn't over it. You don't listen."
"We don't have time. I care for Phool too but..."
"She needs time. Look at her. She nearly stabbed herself..."
"...we have to get this marriage done with."
"Please stop arguing both of you. I got the medicines."
"Medicines. What did the doctor say it was?"
"PTSD."
"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder! Poor child."
"We have to stop the wedding. It will..."
"The wedding will happen. "
"...harm her even more. Please."
"Make arrangements. The engagement is next week."
"But..."
"...I think it is too soon."
"Get her a nurse."
"What will we tell them? If something like this happens again..."
"Enough!..."
The voices faded away to a dull throb.
Darkness claimed her again.
Amar stared at the computer screen.
Encrypted files were slowly but surely getting uncoded.
Finally freedom.
He had never before minded seclusion.
But this time he had yearned to go out again.
Agonised over staying in this huge mansion, filled with every comfort one could want.
And all this because of that little miscreant.
He had missed her so much.
She was like a breath of fresh air in his life. An annoying little itch that simply won't go away and now that he was so accustomed to it, he couldn't stay without that itch.
Going to meet her wasn't the problem. Once outside the castle's estate everything would be easy. But trouble was getting out of the castle without alerting anyone.
He knew what he had to do.
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