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Four
It was like someone had just punched him in the guts. He felt disgusted with himself... how could he even do something like this? And the fool in front of him was just smiling, she just went along with whatever he did. She didn't scream, didn't push him away, didn't call the cops... she just happily lay there for him to enjoy.
"What's wrong with you?" he snapped. "How could you even... you're twisted. You're demented!"
She walked upto him and rested her hands on his bare chest, and her touch calmed him down, made him relax a bit.
"From s**t to twisted and demented," she joked, still smiling.
She had a beautiful smile, but Randhir couldn't let himself get distracted. She was way too innocent for all of this - the other girls he had slept with who had been virgins, he played the love game with. He pretended to actually be fascinated with them, and then he took them to bed. He would break up with them immediately after, and he wouldn't even feel guilty about it because their reactions were usually harsh. They would be angry at him. Or at least heartbroken... and Randhir blamed their heartbreak on their own foolishness, not on himself.
Sanyukta on the other hand - she was smiling. And this made him feel so guilty. What was wrong with her? Did she want him to feel bad or something? Was that her mission?
"Everyone calls you a s**t," he whispered with disbelief, covering her hands on his chest with his own. "Why?"
He took her hands off his chest and held them gently.
"Do you have extra sheets?" she asked him softly, avoiding his question.
"Extra sheets?" he asked with disbelief. "Uh... yeah... they're in that cupboard."
She unclasped her hands from his and opened the cupboard, taking out a sheet set. Then she pulled his sheets off his bed and replaced it, all the while being quiet... all the while focusing on the bed.
Randhir didn't know what happened - or who she was - or who he was. He didn't know anything. He was confused. And the confusion was eating him up inside.
She picked up the dirty sheets and smiled at him, "I'll return these tomorrow," she said softly, and then picked up her purse from the ground.
"You're going?" he asked with awe.
"Yes," she said simply.
"But it's late," he told her. "You can go in the morning."
"I'll be fine, don't worry," she told him, then she walked outside of the room.
Randhir could see that she was practically limping. She was probably in pain from how roughly he had performed the act. Damn. Why did he have to be so rough with her?
He walked down the stairs and held open the door for her. She looked at him with glossy eyes and before he knew what was happening, she had wrapped her arms around him tightly, squeezing her eyes shut. Randhir's first instinct was to hold her closer to him and whisper a genuine sorry in her ears, but of course... that was not how he was. Perhaps it was his ego.
He pulled her shoulders off him and glanced outside.
"Bye," he said, and she smiled up at him.
"Bye," she responded.
Then she walked out of his house, into the darkness, and Randhir watched her go, with an aching feeling in his chest. It was almost like he didn't want her to go.
Dammit... what did that girl do to him? It was a feeling like none other that he had ever felt.
"I hate her," he said decisively. "She didn't correct me. She didn't stop me. She didn't do anything to prevent this. I'm not going to feel bad. I... I hate her. With all my heart."
Although he said that out loud to himself, there was a strong part of him, a huge part of himself that rejected what he had said outright. But he wasn't going to focus on that part of him. He was going to focus on the part of him that hated her.
In other words, Randhir was going to focus on the hatred he felt for himself, that he was about to project onto her.
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