Tagline: Never fall in love with someone who is a killer
Prologue
'Get him the medicines, you fool. He's having an attack.'
'Wh—What?'
'Get him the damn medicines. Don't you see he might die if you don't bring it, and FAST!.'
It was the drama of every morning. Sometimes, I wonder why God is even keeping him alive. He's not that old, no, merely twenty two, but has an acute case of schizophrenia. His convulsions reek me to the very core.
He was young, handsome, had sharp features that any girl would die for. But every morning, I had to come in to see him have an attack of epilepsy. Maybe he's suffering from bad karma of previous ages, like many people would say, but I don't believe it. I don't believe in all that superstitions. I stand up, looking at the crowd of staff dispersing, as I go ahead to check on him.
He's opening his eyes and scrutinizing everyone, just like the way he does it every morning.
'N—Nurse.' He calls out softly, and I run to him.
'Yes, dear?'
He indicates water, and I signal someone nearby to get it. The hospital of the Institute of Psychological Disorders, of IPD as people call it, was severely under nourished. But I never forget to take care of that boy. Maybe I have a soft spot for him, everyone would if they see him.
His black hair was parted almost halfway through the middle, and it fell onto his faces in thick heavy locks. His eyes have a Mongolian characteristic, which I suppose is a side effect of the rotten disease he has. His lips are always twitching upwards, from smiling or grimacing I cannot say. I look around the room, taking in the bland colors of the hospital walls, with only a calendar hanging in a far corner. This was his best time of the day, I mused, and he would normally spend the day convulsing or hallucinating.
It was time for a change of colors in his room, I repeat to myself, and maybe that would cheer him up.
I look at him once again, and see him staring out the window with glassy eyes, as if he were far – far away. I tentatively put a hand on his back, and he doesn't jerk it off. Instead he looks up at me, and I notice the color of his eyes. They are almost black, almost, with a trace of abnormal grey, which makes them look so innocent, so full of life, and so.. .healthy.
I turn away from him, but he notices.
'Don't cry, Nurse.' He whispers, 'I will die a hero's death, I promise you.'
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Aami Daakini
