AN: A One-Shot dedicated to Karan Wahi's reel that changed all our lives yesterday. Angsty galore. Welcome to revenge and angst dramas.
My other works on GiTya:
OS: Dislike (Genre - Romance/Comedy)
https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/5305204
OS: Lifeline (Genre - Drama)
https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/5305860
In Pieces
It rose up in her like a bitter after taste. Her throat hurt and immediately she jerked out of her bed rushing to the pale sink in the corner of the room. She coughed and dry heaved; her heart thundering as saliva dribbled down the side of her mouth. Her stomach roiled and she heaved again.
Opening the tap, she chugged a handful of water and tried to wash away the sickly bitter taste that seemed to have spread inside her.
It had become a constant now. The slow bitterness that she could not leave behind; no matter how much she tried. Her throat rang raw and agonized as she dry heaved again. As her heart raced and her breaths came in short, sharp rasps; she looked up at the mirror.
A wet face stared back at her with swollen eyes; the red in the veins around the pupils popping up with the smudged kohl seeping into the skin; giving her a deranged look. Her long glossy mane of hair lay oily and tattered; as if left uncombed for a long time. Her locks had gone haywire, twisting and turning to make a web of knots.
A web!
Bile rose up in her and her hands trembled. Something swelled up in her and her eyes darted around desperately. Without hesitation, she reached for the scissors on the cabinet and for a moment stared at the glossy blades. She looked back up at the mirror.
She had never been thin to the point of unhealthiness. Never a model body and the little fat on her cheeks had been a testimony of her love for Indian cuisine made with Desi Ghee.
All that seemed to have left her. Her usually soft jawline jutted forward unhealthily; as deep shadows fell on her cheek. Her skin had an unhealthy grayish pallor to it and she looked almost sick.
Maybe because that was what she was.
Sick!
Her mind drifted as she stared at herself in the mirror.
The moment he touched her, fire erupted in her veins. It was as if someone had lit something volcanic inside her for the next second everything was ablaze. She wanted to squirm, wanted to run, wanted to writhe, wanted to wrap herself around him; but all she could manage was to balance herself on her trembling legs as his fingers burned her with his touch. Hands ghosted down her spine and her heart thundered. Her lips parted as she felt his fingers slowly inching across her back as they tied the Dori of her dress. His hands trembled and she shivered along with them.
Her eyes flew open and the wet gaze did not surprise her. Her lips moved into a silent snarl.
Something roared in her ears and in the next second her hands moved in a whirlwind. The blades of the scissors went snipping through as she moved them around, caring nothing for pattern or rhythm. Long tresses of curly hair fell on the ground. She went on and on and finally, the fire doused in her. The scissors fell and her hands grasped at the basin for support as she tried to balance her sagging body. She pulled herself up and stared at the mirror.
The shorn hairs blew wildly around her face. Short, uneven, and jagged cuts. Just like her life.
A mirthless smile spread on her face. It was perfect now. The outer resembled the inner now.
Her legs trembled as she tried to force her rooted feet towards the door. Her head felt woozy and the bathroom floor suddenly tilted and she felt like vomiting; again.
The tangy taste burnt through her. She splashed the cold water on her face and held the soft towel to her face. Staggering she limped back to the bed.
She sat on her bed. It was familiar, the old bedsheets which had gotten discoloured after so many years of use, the dim hanging light in the corner, the chipping paint on the wall near the door, the broken vase on the cabinet, and of course Ginni Grewal suffocating in silence inside her room. It was all the same; nothing changed here.
And yet she had.
She closed her eyes and something ugly twisted in her. A frothing hatred rose in her and at that moment all she wanted to do was to burn everything down. She had never been a violent person but it felt like she was running on some kind of autopilot where violence felt like the only way out. She wanted to hit something, claw at something, hurt something.
She wanted to hurt him!
A visceral and jarring hatred sheared through her as his face came up in front of her eyes. His light hazel eyes crookedly grinning at her, the soft quirk of his lips, the way he called her name, the warmth of his arms, the touch of his lips, the way his hands pulled her close, his smell, his beautiful –
Pain burst through her senses. Her hand stung. Her eyes focused on the nail in the corner of the bed that was now coloured by drops of her blood. Her blood! Her life! That she had willingly sacrificed for him.
A violent aversion and disgust rose in her, knotting her senses and blinding her to the world. It gnawed at her heart and suffocated her soul as she took a deep shuddering breath. Her heart hurt. She wanted to kill him.
Maybe she should, she thought dazedly. And end the story forever. Maybe she would get peace.
But she knew full well that she could not. She had never been able to harm him.
Not before.
Not now.
Not ever.
Her eyes fluttered close. A wave of exhaustion seeped into her. Her body relaxed and everything slowly went dark.
The moment her breathing evened, he stepped out from the shadows.
The man that came to the light did not look anything like the one in her imagination. He had not been the same for days now.
His muscled wiry frame seemed to have shrunk. There was a brittleness about him as he held himself upright, his unhinged gaze fixated on the woman sleeping on the bed. He breathed fast and loud, as his heart began beating in an unknown rhythm. His shirt was half-buttoned as if carelessly thrown on and caked mud splattered on his pants. He was barefoot and the usually neatly set hair looked like it had met a tornado of some kind. His skin looked almost translucent in the dim light.
Quietly, he inched closer. His eyes fell on the jagged ends of her hair and something twisted in him. A violent fury reared its head and for a second he wanted to jerk her awake and rage at her.
A silence fell as he stared at her.
Suddenly her body writhed and a cry erupted from her lips.
He froze and closed his eyes.
A sharp jolt wracked through her spine and physical pain bloomed in her body. Her mind was deep inside the embrace of Morpheus as her spine twisted and her body writhed on the bed.
He swallowed and fisted his hands as his nails dug into his palm. His breath clogged and anguish bloomed in him. He wanted to rage at something, break something, hurt something.
She moaned and slowly her body descended to rhythmic jerks as unconscious sobs broke through her frame.
She did not awake.
Unable to stop himself, he climbed into the bed and lay down by her side. With acute slowness, he turned her shaking frame toward him and enveloped her trembling body inside his arms. As usual, her head fit against his chest and he began to run his hands up and down her spine gently.
Her trembling slowed and her sobs quietened.
But in him, a wound gaped open. It ate through his flesh, as blood and meat, seemed to enjoy a chaotic juncture where he was torn apart; as if someone had poked it wide open with a rusty rod.
She took a shuddering breath. He trembled with her and snuggled closed, his nose nuzzling the crook of her neck. The familiar smell of wildflowers in the rain and something he could never identify met his senses. He gulped as he began to react to her like he always did.
A soreness crept into his body. He was tired. So tired. He wanted it to just end.
If the world ended then and at that very moment, he would be content.
But he couldn’t. There were so many things to do. To finish. To destroy.
Slowly he detached himself from her and looked at her.
“I wish I had never met you,” he whispered mournfully.
But even he knew there was no truth to it.
He went out the way he came in and slowly settled himself behind the tree. He waited. The entire Grewal family was asleep. But they will be awake soon. Just a few more minutes.
And then began the screams.
Lights flared on and hurried footsteps met his ears. He could hear Ginni’s mother sobbing as she held her screaming daughter suffering from terrible nightmares. He could hear Ginni's heartbreaking sobs and the pain of her heart rippling across the lawn. He could hear the wounds that he gave her.
She cried and thrashed around and he could make out his name being uttered again and again. She was calling him, cursing him, and again calling for him.
Loathing overcame him and he struggled to breathe. He tried to rein in the hatred that seeped into his veins, that railed at him for his actions. His stomach turned and nausea rose in him.
He vomited.
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