AvNeil SS: Deadly Games - Chapter 6 pg 12 Updated - Page 9

Originally posted by: AgnesFan

I'm sorry if I had touched sensitive part .

I have no idea about feeling of love . For me it looks great in novels and fiction shows .

No no!!! U didn't say anything wrong 😆 it's ok! Heartbreaks are a part of life 😳 as Neil said, u just build yourself back up and wait for someone better :P

Chapter 6

My whole body felt numb. My feet were moving on their own accord while my heart had seemingly stopped. The cold metal of the key that I clutched in my hand was the only true sensation that I felt at that moment. I stood in front of the double doors at the end of the long hallway, suddenly feeling out of breath. While I had locked every memory somewhere deep within the corners of my heart, I had locked every childhood memorabilia within the depths of this room. For 15 years I had kept it closed. Exhaling the breath of air that I hadn't realized I was holding, I gazed towards the door. Over the years, this door had blocked the entryway to my past and had fulfilled its role quite well as a home for spiders. Large nets of cobwebs clung to the corners and the once beautiful wooden build was slowly chipping away. Hands shaking, I thrust the key into the lock and turned. Pushing open the door, I entered.

The air smelled old and musky. Dust covered nearly every object around the room. I coughed, my lungs quickly feeling the effects of the stale air. And here it stood; every part of my childhood that had ever held value to me. I looked around, my heart clenching tighter every moment. Swallowing the bile that was forming in my mouth, I walked to a small, red bicycle which lay abandoned in the corner of the room. I closed my eyes, the memories rushing towards me. It had been my sixth birthday. For two months I had pleaded with my parents for a bicycle. I had specified that I wanted it to be red. It was my favourite colour. I had insisted that I wanted it because it wasn't fair that my brother had a bicycle and I didn't. The morning of my birthday, my parents had woken me, each with a kiss to my forehead, and had told me that my gift was waiting outside. My eyes had immediately lit up in anticipation and I had pushed the sheets off of me and bounded outside as fast as my legs would carry me. Outside, I saw my brother, grinning at me. Behind him was a beautiful red bicycle. I had rushed to him, screaming in excitement. I had hugged him so hard that he had nearly fallen backwards. What would I give to hug my brother one more time? I shuddered, reeling from the memories.

Beside my bicycle was a large box. It had been my toy box. All of my favourite board games, dolls and stuffed animals were seated neatly inside. I knelt down, hesitantly opening the box. A brown teddy bear looked up at me sadly, as if questioning why I had left him inside for so long. He had been my very first gift from my parents. I wouldn't sleep unless it was with this teddy bear. And now, I don't sleep at all. I couldn't remember the last time I had had a restful sleep - perhaps in Neil's arms last night, where I had slept for two continuous hours without any nightmares. Neil. I suddenly remembered my purpose. I wasn't here to reminisce my past. I was here to discover the truth about my past. For Neil.

Standing, I braced myself for the inevitable. I walked towards the far end of the room, where, among a pile of other abandoned artifacts, lay a large cardboard box. This was where all of my worst memories lay buried. I exhaled, slowly falling to my knees. It was now or never. Hands shaking, I pulled open the lid of the box. Papers upon papers had been piled up inside, held only by a single, thick thread. Grunting, I lifted the large bunch and dropped it to the floor. As I did so, a flume of dust flew, throwing me into a coughing fit. I had collected several of the news articles within this pile over the years. I wasn't sure why I had collected them. I never expected to ever turn back and look at them. They were simply reminders of my past. For the first time in my life, however, I was thankful that I had had the good foresight to conserve these papers. I untied the thread, causing several news articles to fall to my feet. The pages were old, yellowing at the sides. But they were still clear enough to read. I held one, caressing the images of my family that had made their way to the front page.

August 7^th 2003

"Three dead bodies were found covered in blood in a small home in the West End of Toronto. While police investigation is ongoing, sources suggest that the cause of death was a straight cut to the trachea resulting in blood backflow into the lungs. The murders are suspected to have been a crime of passion committed by the youngest member of the family and the daughter of the two victims Ashish and Ayesha Mehta - Avni Mehta. Avni was found at the crime scene bearing a knife in hand and blood on her body. Blood samples taken from the child's shirt were found to match the blood of the victims."

I shuddered. I couldn't bear to read any further. The pain and the trauma were both flooding back towards me, and like a tidal wave, sweeping me away. I closed my eyes, trying my best to remember what exactly had happened that day. I remembered playing hide and seek. I remembered the feel of that kitchen cupboard. I remember feeling breathless and anxious after waiting several minutes without my brother coming in search of me. I remembered being scared as I stepped out. I also remembered seeing my parents, lying still in a pool of red liquid. And then...and then it was all blank. As hard as I tried, I couldn't remember anything beyond that point. It felt as if a movie had been playing, and just that specific part of the tape had been completely erased. I pounded myself on the head, grunting in frustration. "Come on Avni, come on. I urged. I was trying to remember something...anything...after seeing the three lifeless bodies in front of me. But as had been the case for the past 15 years, I was drawing a blank. I groaned, thrashing my arm against the cardboard box in frustration. Several piles of papers and photographs fell out.

Two days later, another newspaper had covered the same incident. I picked it up, hoping to find something that would jog my memory...some clue...anything from that evening.

August 9^th 2003

"Accused of the Mehta murders, seven year old Avni Mehta has been taken under the wing of Dr. Arjun Singh to obtain specialized psychiatric care. The child has yet to accept her crime and has been clinically diagnosed with severe post- traumatic stress disorder. Police investigation regarding the motive behind the murders is still ongoing."

Dr. Arjun Singh - he had been my therapist. While the memories were foggy, I remembered my daily visits to his office. Sometimes we would talk and other times he would just sit with me allow me to remain in silence. He had a strange habit of twirling his pen between his thumb and forefinger during our silent moments. I guess he wasn't much accustomed to sitting still. At this point, Dr. Singh was the only lead I had. While I knew that he probably wouldn't be of much help, he knew about the case, and had likely researched into the police investigation at the time it had happened. There was a chance he had some insight into what had exactly happened that night. Maybe he could fill in the blanks that I had had to live with for the past 15 years. I needed to speak to him. Pulling out my phone, I did a quick google search on his name and discovered that he was employed at Trinity Hospital - a 20 minute drive from my home. I would be paying him a visit first thing in the morning.

I sighed, leaning back and resting my head against the white wall behind me. How had it gotten to this? What had I gotten myself into and where was I heading with my life? Inside and out, I was a complete mess. I turned my phone on and checked the time: 2:33 a.m. My eyes suddenly felt heavy. I reminisced my night with Neil...by the beach...how I had simply rested my head against his arm. There had been something undeniably comforting in his touch. It felt how a wanderer in a desert might feel upon discovering a pond of thirst-quenching water. But this isn't reality, I thought. You're my mirage Neil...my time with you...it's a lie. I'm not the person you think I am. How can you be attracted to a murderer? My lips quivered at the mere word: murderer. The world had not hesitated even for a moment before labelling me with this word. Everyone believed that I had killed my parents. That was probably why Vidyut was so confident that I would be able to kill Neil. Once a murderer, always a murderer, right? I closed my eyes, attempting to force away the tears that were attempting to spill. I wonder what you'd think of me if you knew my truth Neil. It was the final thought in my mind before a deep and troubled sleep blanketed over me.

I awoke to the clash of thunder rattling against the windowpane. My neck and back were stiff from the uncomfortable position I had fallen asleep in. Wincing, I rubbed my eyes, raising myself to a standing position. The wall clock at the end of the room displayed that it was just past 6:30 a.m; four hours of sleep - that was pretty standard for me. I straightened my dress, tucked the newspapers and photographs neatly back into the cardboard box and exited the room. It was going to be a long day today. I sighed, making my way over to the washroom. I would take a quick shower, have breakfast and then be off on my way. I was going to be talking to Dr. Singh today. I can't let him know that I'm Avni. I thought suddenly. It was too much of a risk. No one could know my truth. I would simply be Ananya Verma to him - a family friend of the Mehtas. Peeling off my dress, I stepped into the bathtub and embraced the warm water that gently flowed through my hair. The lack of sleep coupled with the emotional stress had left me with a bitter headache that refused to heal. The warm water should do me some good. I thought, allowing myself a good half an hour of soaking time. The remainder of my morning passed without event. I made myself a quick breakfast, consisting only of buttered toast and a banana, grabbed my keys and made my way to the car. This was it. After 15 years, I was going to face my past.

Trinity Hospital was located in the southern end of the city about 20 miles from my house. Its sprawling 30 acre property lay nestled in the heart of a beautifully gated community in the midst of several oak trees and shrubs. The thriving floral life around the hospital gave the building a homely and inviting feeling. I parked my car in the designated visitor parking and stepped out. Propping my handbag up onto my shoulder, I pushed my sunglasses against my hair as a makeshift hairband. Remember Avni, today you're Ananya Verma. Exhaling, I climbed the four short steps to the entrance of the building. The hospital was bustling with activity. Patients were seated in the large seating area in one corner while a receptionist was furiously typing away into her computer in the opposite end of the room. I could hear the cry of children, sniffling of noses and loud, hackling coughs. I winced, wanting to escape as quickly as possible. I stepped forward to the receptionist, clearing my throat to gain her attention. She was an elderly woman with a pair of round glasses clinging for dear life against the end of her nose. Her brows were furrowed in deep concentration and a slight frown lined her lips. It was a few moments before she stopped her work and looked up to me. I could see the deep lines and wrinkles on her forehead, clearly depicting her exhaustion and age.

"May I help you?" she asked, seemingly disinterested. I nodded. "Actually yes; I was hoping to meet Dr. Arjun Singh?" Her eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down in suspicion. "Do you have an appointment?" I shook my head. "No, I don't. I just needed to speak with him about a case." The receptionist raised her eyebrows. "A case...are you a patient or the relative of a patient?"

"I'm the patient's relative." I lied. "It'll only take a few moments of his time. She pursed her lips, rolling a pen between her thumb and forefinger. "You do understand that a doctor must maintain a degree of confidentiality about his patients don't you? I'm not sure how much he will allow you to ask and how much you'll be able to get out of him." I nodded. "I understand and I'm willing to take my chances. Could you please get me in touch with Dr. Singh?" She paused for another moment before sighing and reaching for the telephone beside her. She hurriedly dialed a number and placed the phone to her ear. "Hello, Dr. Singh. I have a patient's relative here who has some questions for you about a particular case. She would like to meet with you if possible." After a brief hesitation she added, "No sir, she specifically told me it would only take a few moments of your time." The receptionist raised her eyes to meet mine, as if reconfirming. I nodded. "Okay, I'll let her know thank you." She hung the phone back against its cradle and turned to me. "He's just finishing up with a patient and doesn't have his next appointment for another hour. So you can go in. And keep in mind you only have a few moments. Come with me, I'll take you to his room." I nodded, and smiled in thanks.

His room was as I had expected it to look. They were the same white walls that I had seen 15 years ago. His desk was arranged neatly with only a laptop, printer, notepad and pencil. The only addition I noticed was a photo frame on his desk. He was with a young woman, probably just a few years younger than himself and a child that must be only 5 or 6 years of age. Must be his family, I thought, a small smile playing on my lips. They looked extremely happy. I eyed the wall clock. The receptionist had said he would be here in a few moments. My heart was pounding in my chest. This was going to be my first encounter with a part of my past that I had buried within me long ago.

I was startled out of my thoughts when I heard the light click of the door behind me. I turned, coming face to face with Dr. Arjun Singh. Apart from the few white streaks that now lined his hair and beard, he hadn't changed much. I could still identify the same passion for his profession in his eyes today that I had seen 15 years ago. He eyed me for a moment before correcting his wire-rimmed glasses and thrusting a few files into a folder that lay beside the door. "Hi Dr. Singh," I started, standing up from my seat to greet him. He quickly waved his hand, urging me down to my spot once more. "Sit - no need for formalities; Linda told me that you wanted to speak with me about one of your relatives under my care?" He shrugged out of his white coat and hung it against a hook on the door before he took his seat at his desk.

I nodded. "Yes, I was hoping to get some information about Avni Mehta's case?" He frowned. "Give me a moment." Saying so, he reached under his desk and began to dig through a large cardboard box of files which I presumed were his past cases. He mumbled my name under his breath in an attempt to identify my folder. "Ah, here we go," he said, finally pulling out a document. He flipped through the pages quickly, his eyes narrowing. "What did you say your relationship to the patient was?" He asked. "I, uh, I'm a distant cousin." I said, flustered. He pursed his lip, eyeing me suspiciously as he caressed his stubble. "And why is it that you're interested in this case?" I clenched and unclenched my fists. I should have known patient confidentiality would screw me over. "She's family; and I know she went through some extremely rough times. I want to know what exactly she was diagnosed with and what her health conditions and symptoms were." He sighed, removing his glasses and placing it onto the table. "Look Ms..."

"Ms. Ananya Verma," I clarified. "Look Ms. Verma, he continued. "Unfortunately, as a doctor, I am bound by certain rules and regulations. And those rules prohibit me from informing you about the patient - especially as she is no longer my patient and this case was 15 years ago. Any information that I give you wouldn't be up to date in any case." I shook my head. "I understand where you're coming from Doctor, but you've got to understand something as well. I am well aware that Avni Mehta is a case that you won't ever be able to forget. How many seven year old girls have you had to diagnose with severe PTSD? The trauma she experienced with the death of her family is something she's going to have to live with for the remainder of her life. All I'm asking is for you to simply give me more information about her case so that I can help her cope. Because you know what - she's still suffering...every minute of every damn day and the only one who can help me right now is you - you knew her case better than anyone else. You saw her day in and day out. And now I need that information. If it's such an old case, and the information is irrelevant now, it shouldn't matter to you regardless isn't that right Dr. Singh?"

He frowned, his eyes now fixated on me. "Have you been in contact with her at all in the past 15 years Ms. Verma?" I paused. Had I revealed too much?

"That's none of your concern." I answered, indignantly. He scoffed. "Well, you're certainly wrong about that. It is definitely my concern. Not only was she my patient, she was also convicted of three murders. Police haven't been able to track her down for the past 15 years. If you've been in contact with her and you're hiding this fact from the authorities, I hope you understand that you're committing a serious crime."

I stood, feeling suddenly frustrated. I was supposed to be the one questioning him. But the tables had somehow turned and he was touching topics that I wasn't interested in touching. "Clearly this discussion is headed nowhere," I finally said, slinging my handbag over my shoulder. "Thank you for your time Dr. Singh and sorry to bother you."

As I began to leave, I heard him sigh behind me. "Wait Ananya. I paused. He walked over to me, arms folded. He took a seat at the edge of the table, his eyes refusing to leave me for even a moment. "You're not really Ananya are you? You're Avni Mehta."

End

So that was the update! Please let me know your views!!!😳 Love you loadsss!!!!

I hope he can see that she's not a murderer n help her out.

Originally posted by: neeraja91

I hope he can see that she's not a murderer n help her out.

Gripping narrative! Keep writing please!

Thank you so much Neeraja 🤗I really appreciate all the love and support!!!😳

Originally posted by: plmzaq

Awesome update

Thank you so much!😳

Your story is really intriguing.

Originally posted by: ff_fan

Your story is really intriguing.

Its beautiful how you have described avni and her inner turmoil.

I hope there was a printed copy of your story available for purchase.

First because this is an amazing story and second because I can't wait to read your next update.

Keep doing your amazing work. :)

this is such a compliment for me, I can't even describe it in words!!! 😳 thank you so so so much! I really enjoy writing and it has been one of my passions ever since I was a child so this really does mean so much to me <3
Will update ASAP! Much love to you dear 😳

Now I'm intrigued to read more . Doctor Singh has read her so much that he can't be fooled . And from out of a blue moon if someone inquiries about his patient whom he had treated years ago first thing is he will be alarmed . I am dying to read their conversation . I wonder whether he will report to police as she has been dead in records .