RiKara SS - Pretty Little Liars - interlude pg 13 (11/5/17) - Page 4

It's lovely to see you here.😊 Enjoy reading, be warned it's a dark chapter!😳

Chapter 2

To run from a nightmare

The crisscrossing dark alleyway was same as he remembered, the air dump and smelling of mold, the sky an ashen stripe so high up, the ground beneath his feet was slimy and half rotten waste pilled every corner. He could recall being here as a teenager. It mounted to a sort of an adventure, he could still taste the adrenaline pulsing down his veins in that precise moment. But a decade later, standing there as a grown up in expensively tailored three piece, he could not even feel a trace of that excitement. Instead he felt empty, defeated and unbearably guilty. He was breaking yet another promise.

He was already on his way to hell, one more sin would change nothing.

He took the half decaying spiral steps up, winding around a building with murky yellow walls and bloodshot eyed men. No one paid him any attention, as if his sight was nothing out of ordinary. He was thankful, this was part of what he wanted; to be invisible even if it was for a short while. The terrace was no cleaner than the building, or the surrounding street. But the air that slammed against his face was fresh and cool. Omkara closed his eyes against the wind that burned them, only for a brief moment.

Mistake; a big mistake it was.

"Where do you keep disappearing to?" Chote Papa's voice called from the back of his mind; a fragment of their latest conversation. His eyes took Omkara's appearance critically, noticing the bags under his eyes, his puffed face and weary eyes. "Not back to your old ways are you?"

Old ways, that was one way to put it. Has he ever been a different person?

He took his time to answer, his fingers casually playing with the paperweight set before him.

"Would you hate me, if I was?" He hated how desperate he sounded, how pathetic and weak. But he couldn't help those words. "Sometimes it gets too much, too bitter, too painful, sometimes I almost give up. I had to get away from this circle of lies and secrets even if for a minute, or I might go mad trying to fight myself." He looked into the eyes of his uncle, unashamed of how heavy - lidded his eyes were. "We can't afford that, can we?"

Shakti sighed audibly, and laid his hand over Omkara's.

"I would not hate you Omkara," his tone was finite. "You were kind enough not to hate me for everything I've done, I can understand what I'm putting you through. I am truly sorry for all of this."

He shrugged, trying not to let his mind wonder into those dark details of their lives.

"I'm not doing this for you."

"I know," Shakti sounded guilty. "And I'm even more grateful for that."

"Don't burden me with your gratitude too," he said bitterly, "I'm better off without it."

He often wondered why Shakti wouldn't walk out on him at moments like those; when he was brutally honest and cynical. It was no secret between them that he had hardly any respect left for the man, now that he was privy to the ways of his world. But still, the two of them were the only soldiers of a battle that could strip them of everything they ever dared to care for; abandoning the other is never an option.

"Do you know why I married Pinky?" The conversation suddenly took a very different turn. His head jerked upwards although he did not say anything. He did wonder, many times, but never asked this question. Shakti smiled faintly, his eyes focused on a memory Omkara could not see. "She listens - talks a lot too - she used to fill the silences that suffocated me with things I couldn't share with anyone, and listen to anything I poured out in turn. I'd have gone mad a long time ago, had it not been for her."

Omkara tried to picture this aspect of his aunt. It was not as hard as he imagined. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he thought of the lady, and her very famous tag line - Oh my mata!

"Are you trying to get me married?" He tried to sound humorous, it failed miserably.

"No," Shakti shook his head. "I'm trying to help you survive." A long exhale. "Find someone to keep you going, you've already found your weakness now it's time to find your strength. Every battle needs a hero, every hero needs a shield."

Omkara rose abruptly, as if eager to get away from that conversation. It felt like a sin he could not bring himself to commit, drag another to his toxic world, just so that he would feel better. Shakti of cause, would suggest something like that.

"You call her your confide," he said slowly. "But what did you give her in return? Betrayal? Is it necessary to feed on others so you may remain alive?"

The darkness in Shakti's eyes made him shiver. He did not wait for the answer that would make him recoil more.

In the present, shadows loomed over him and Omkara swallowed. He did not feel the prick of the needle, or the poisonous oblivion seeping into his blood stream. The edges of his sense smoothed out, and the corners of his vision darkened. His throat dried up and breath ragged. Clutching the last strands of consciousness he brought his right fist to his eye level and opened it.

In his palm laid a Rakhi, similar to the ones he used to tie on Shivay's hand. Its beads twinkled innocently, making spots of light in his blurring vision. He smiled faintly, soaking up the memories invoked by the sight, thoughts of his brother.

"If you ever knew," he muttered stroking the threads with a finger. "That I love you as much as you loved me. If you ever knew, how much it hurts - I miss you Shivay, and it kills me." He stepped on to the edge of the terrace and looked at the dingy street bellow. "Main tujhe kuch hone nahi dunga - this is my one for all." The Rakhi slipped from his outstretched fingers and dropped into the shadows. His vision slid out of focus, he could not see it anymore. As the drug finally conquered his mind Omkara stumbled.

He felt light, his mind reeled lost between realities and illusions, memories and dreams. He felt empty and overwhelmed at the same time. His heart wrenched painfully inside his ribcage, beating faster with every breath he gasped. There was a dull ache somewhere deep within him, but the rest of him was soaring high. Nothing mattered anymore; at least for a while.

He did not realize it, when ground slipped beneath his feet. He did not mind the height that could have killed him. He knew he could not die, but did nothing to save himself. A part of him wished he would parish then and there. Then it would all end, there would be no more suffering. A part of him wanted to survive, for what he couldn't clearly remember.

He wasn't sure what he prayed the gods for; death or survival.

Someone held him, just before he collapsed into the abyss below. A softer hand gripped his wrist, then another wrapped itself around his other wrist, clumsily pulling himself up. After a moment of struggle, some bruises and scratches both of them stumbled down the muddy terrace ground; he on the top of his savior.

A pair of wide eyes blinked up at him. They had a unique color, swirls of ceramal brown, fainting into darkness of bitter chocolate. In their depths flecks of gold glittered.

"Angel," he muttered to himself before passing out.

**

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Thanks for reading!

Sorry for any disappointments.

Love,

Sakura

PS: I loved IB's unique idea of Rakshabandan, where OmRu also tied Rakhi to Shivay, it's worth catching up if you've missed that moment.