Thursday, November 1, 2012


            The voice over the phone was getting louder. She remembered that day when he had told her to not fear and that nothing would happen. He would take care of her. No, the words dint sound hollow to her ears, already deafening by the noises outside. In her mind, she couldn’t feel the falsity of those words; but now his tone seemed to tease her. Trap, a clever cornering. She knew and did not understand. Saw and did not look. This was normalcy. Her head began to spin.
            His voice was getting even louder. He was screaming beyond control. She shrunk below her blanket and with shivering hands, opened her wooden wardrobe. In the dark corner of the room, there were stripes of fluorescence. There was anger in his words and a quest for revenge. “Burn her!” She dropped her phone. The walls of the room seemed to collapse on her; the weight of the ceiling was on her shoulders and the edges of her bed encircled her- another layer of traps. With a trembling hand, she reached for the blade. Night fell and rose. The Sun’s yellow rays sparkled on the white walls, a few fell on her face and the others seemed to wipe the shining cover of the dark night scare. As the chilling breeze swept into the room, the pages of her yellow diary slowly flipped. His words on the gifted photo frame hanged on the wall were written in bright ink- “for the girl who never stops fighting.” The pool of blood beneath her wrist reflected the light most.
              “It was a case of the nerves,” the old bearded man in a white coat was telling her parents. Her mother’s tears ran down to her lips and made designs with the edges of her dry lips. The girl wanted to laugh but couldn’t open her mouth. Her father remained silent, lost, as though he doesn’t know exactly what to do. His trembling hand on her arm gave him away. She closed her eyes. That was all she could move.
               The boy came with a bunch of red flowers to visit her at the hospital. She could see the evil smile on his sad seemed face. “What did I do to you?” she screamed. “What did I do to you?” She felt like the red flowers in his arms were poisoned… She was afraid he came to bury her alive.
              ”What should we do now, doctor?” her mother’s voice seemed dry and cracked.  ”Take her to a good psychiatrist. I have a few hospitals to recommend. And I’d suggest taking her back home and get her some rest.” the doctor’s voice filled the room.  The words bounced hitting the wall performing acrobatics in the air… Psychiatric evaluation, brain therapy, paranoia…

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