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"What will be your poison sir?" A pitch black suited waiter inquired, with his right arm extended before him, a pristine white towel hanging from it.
"Excuse me?" Kunj asked, raising his brows, appalled at the wording of the question.
"Are you ready to order sir?" The waiter asked once more, not phased by the reaction.
"Uhh," Kunj looked back at the menu before him, highly embarrassed, "Scotch?" He scrunched his face, as if he was still contemplating on what he really wanted.
"Very well sir." The waiter left the table, walking in quite a proud and elegant manner.
Kunj put the menu down, watched his eyes glaze over as they lost the ability to register his surroundings, clearly and vividly.
Why did I hear poison? Did he say poison? It's a common enough expression. Could have easily gotten it mixed up.
The absolute silence that pervaded the room caught his attention. Looking up, he saw everyone staring at him. All the guests, the waiters, the chefs cooking in the back kitchens, the civilians walking by out in the frosty streets. All their gazes were fixed on him.
But they weren't looking at him. It was more like they were looking through him. As if his bodily flesh did not exist to shield the inner most private elements of him. His soul, his spirit, his very being was out there for them all to see. To judge, to poke, to mock.
As if on cue, they all erupted into laughter. It wasn't a giggle or a chuckle or a laughter that makes you want to laugh along. It was a laughter that was high-pitched, that echoed and gave you chills. A laughter that made you question your entire being, the reason why you act or behave in the way you do. A laughter that makes you want to go back to the rickety old apartment that you have been forced to rent, take off the dirty bed sheets, twirl it around until it become a strong coil, tie it up, throw it over the still fan, grab the rickety chair, get up on it, insert your useless and feeble neck into the opening, secure it around your neck as if it was the one that would keep your life together, kick the rickety chair and feel yourself get lost in the oblivion.
"Kunj."
The blood was rushing around his head while it took the time to get acquainted with reality. He's not in the rickety old apartment, hanging from the rickety old wooden chair. He's sitting in a plush, velvety booth, with a golden crystalline chandelier hanging above his head, in the finest tux he owns sitting in front of the most gorgeous woman he has ever laid eyes on.
The crimson lips curled up in bemusement. Chatters filled the room again as if they were never silent to begin with. The woman continued to observe him with her cold eyes.
"How are you doing Kunj?" Her voice was haunting.
It was as if it was meant to be warm but forgot how.
"Fine, I guess," Kunj answered with a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"What are you thinking about?" The smile never faltered.
It didn't change a fraction from where it sat last time.
"Stuff."
"Like?"
"You wouldn't know."
"I believe that is the intention of me asking you in the first place."
"You wouldn't care." A restatement, meant to showcase his irritation.
"If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked."
"Why are you asking?"
"Because I care."
"No you don't. You say you do because I suggested it to. Because it's what I consider important to me."
"Perhaps my questioning you is important to me."
"Why would it be? You don't even know me." Kunj's hands were spread across the solid wooden table, assisting him in emphasizing his words.
"What makes you certain?"
"This is our first meeting."
"As far as you can recall."
"I am certain."
"How? A minute ago you were in your rickety old apartment hanging from the ceiling."
Kunj paled.
"H-How did you know..."
"I know." She replied as an enigma.
"But how? That was in my head, you can't possibly know."
"Why not?"
"Because it's in my head!" Kunj shouted, his face feeling red.
The silence returned.
Kunj averted his eyes and saw numerous pairs of eyes set on him again. The eerie nausea returned along with him heading back to the apartment. The lights were flickering this time. The ancient wall paper peeling back and revealing the muck hidden underneath. With door unlocked, he had to jiggle the door knob a few times before it will finally open.
"Why don't you get it fixed?"
The rush of noise came to Kunj as his vision registered the woman sitting in front of him again.
"What?"
"The door. Why don't you get it fixed?"
"Don't have the money."
"Liar."
"Don't want to."
"Liar."
"I can't."
"It's a reminder."
"I can't fix it."
"Aren't you scared? What if you get attacked?"
"I don't have anything to lose."
"No valuables?"
"Nothing monetary or materialistic."
"Your life."
"Not monetary or materialistic."
"Monetary = your annual income. Materialistic = your artifice and your biology."
"Nothing that I hold of value."
"What if I do?"
"What importance can my life have for you?"
"It does."
"What."
"Classified."
"Bullshit."
"The truth."
"Don't believe."
"Won't make it false."
"Why."
"Elaborate."
"Why show interest in me?"
"Why not?"
"I'm not important."
"If you weren't I wouldn't be here."
"Why are you here?"
"Because you need me."
"No I don't."
"Yes you do."
"No, I don't."
"Then why did you call me."
"I didn't call you."
"Yes, you did. When you had your head in that opening."
Kunj flashed back to the stale room that had begun to reek.
"When there were tears running down your cheeks, your face contorted into something so ugly you couldn't even recognize yourself any more."
His vision had become so blurry that he couldn't see straight. His face had gotten red, his veins pushing out against his neck.
"You had become desperate. Kept muttering incoherent words to an empty room hoping that someone will come to help you out, to save you, to.."
Her words faded away.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god! I..." He had kept repeating through his tears. "Will somebody please help me? I just want help, I can't, I can't do this anymore. I.. I just need.. I just want.. oh god! Please, please, please, somebody just hear me out, just help me, I.. I just..."
"Then you kicked the chair."
She stated with a finality. Kunj was staring off into the distance, as if he was in a coma.
"I was hanging."
"You were."
"Then what happened?"
"You're still hanging."
"I'm still hanging."
The elegant golden walls began to shift and morph into crusty, cracked beige ones. The intense warm light that was wrapped around the room started to become cold and dark.
"Something happened." Kunj whispered, his eyes still distant.
"You kicked the chair."
"I hung."
"You're hanging."
"I'm hanging."
The crystalline chandelier is now the dusty fan from which he's hanging. There is no waiter, no people, no laughter, no chatter, no light.
It's just him. Hanging.
"Then what happens?" He asked the woman seated in front of him.
He could feel the breath leaving out of him as the coil around his neck starts to feel tighter.
"The rope begins to rip."
"The rope?"
"What you're hanging from."
"The bed sheets."
"Does it matter?"
"No."
"They'll both kill you."
"Yeah."
"Do you wanna die?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want to find out?"
"Sure."
The rope breaks.[/NOCOPY]
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