Ripped Genes and the Perfect Tan

1 Her blue branded ripped jeans, dark and glossy crimson lip shade, tight light green halved top and glazing blue eyes swayed across the road in line with her deliciously curvy hips. Katrina was a girl that demanded attention from everyone that was lucky enough to be touched by her current aura. Her beautiful dark brown hair floated along with her movement and her eyelashes were as deadly as a viper’s glare. Her long legs were always an advantage and her aesthetic physique exposed the intent of almost all manly urges, instantly. In truth, she drew attention from anyone by just being around. From the far end of the street, Livia waved at her while she was supervising the heavy built worker unload goods from a truck parked in front of Livia’s cosmetics store. Katrina directed eye contact swiftly towards the waving woman, the tight abs of the worker in specific, then back at the road and in recognition, slightly lifted a colourful shopping bag up just enough so that the sunlight would reflect off her dark red nails. Her facial expressions remained deceitfully friendly. She was consumed by a self-created animation and always ticking within at this stage of her life, was never afraid to show it to those she chose to and that was probably the best thing about Kat. Besides her busty rack of course. As she moved down towards the pavement, vehicles halting, drivers popping their heads out in subtle awe at the red signal, her phone started to ring. On exactly the fifth ring, she picked up. ‘Hello.’ ‘Hey Kat, I’ve got the goodies over at my apartment. Picked ‘em up fresh from Kishore. Let me know when you wanna drop by.’ Said a deep, enthusiastic voice and Kat replied, ‘Okay. Bye now.’ Her movement hadn"t slowed down a bit and she was striding down the side of the pavement as she slipped her phone back into a pink purse that hung to her right, slightly bouncing off her hip as she walked. As she approached a tall red building right next to the Felix’s estate, ducked under a protruding branch that was clinging from one of the trees in the estate yard and walked into an iron railed, rust pigmented white apartment building entrance, her face began to slowly change. The weather outside wasn"t even slightly affected by her brief presence. The busy world continued with the industrialized hum as Kat disappeared into the building. Although she never really showed, but in fact, expressed herself contrary to this, Kat was tearing herself apart from within. She hated her past that constantly reminded her of the inevitable power that time possessed over life; an event occurred could never be undone. She despised the future as it showed her no certainty, time playing an evil trick, she thought! Although she frequently, desperately tried to, could never find comfort in the present either. Kat considered herself an outcast, not in the eyes of the world, but her own. Her acceptance in the eyes of strangers was never factual to her as she believed that it did not reflect their heart, but merely their animalistic intentions. After all, every human that Kat had been close to were all animals to her, in one or the other way. It was Katrina Chelsa versus the world. Little did she observe that it was just Kat versus her afraid little mind! Four O’clock, unnaturally cooled room, Kat opened the door, chucked her bag and purse onto the table that stood to her right and walked straight into the bathroom. The sink was stained with cosmetic residue and the curtains were dusty, a reflection of the amount of time Kat actually spent in her tiny apartment. She lit a cigarette, Marlboro Gold, and looked herself in the eyes through the mirror above the sink. As she inhaled, her facial expression began to change, her brows began to frown and her lips curved in. She was looking for answers, it seemed, but found none. She put the cigarette on the side of the sink and bent down to wash her face clean. Every time she splashed water onto her plush red skin, she looked up to see if she was still breathing. Her eyes began to sink in and Katrina was still battling it out to not express her true self to the reflection that barely recognized her. ‘I wasn"t born for this. I was never wanted anywhere. Why now?’ Although the world outside or even Kat could not quite hear a word her conscience was saying, it was the only time in the world she really felt safe. Kat gazed into the mirror, her hands now freely resting on either sides of the sink, the sweet smoke from the lit cigarette was beginning to cloud the glass. ‘I was not born of these vile beasts. I am different.’ ‘I have to go now!’ She quickly grabbed a fresh towel that lay on the hanger, wiped her face, chucked it on the toilet floor and walked out. The cigarette bud burned as it patiently awaited its end and the main door shut! Kat was back into the streets of Cochin, waiting to be accepted by the strange souls that met her eye once again. Shawn had called her. She had to drop by his apartment immediately. This was a priority she instantly set for herself out of choice. After all, he did say that he’d freshly brought in some goodies. As Kat stood on the side of the pavement, her face drenched in a leather hoodie, a cigarette in her mouth, a cab pulled over. ‘Hello madam. Are you CatherineXOXO?’ said the driver who pulled down the window and greeted her with a smile and a phone in his hands. Kat got in through the back door. ‘Take me to the address I just entered.’ She said with her face still covered in the hood of her jacket, her eyes in touch with her phone screen. ‘Sure madam. I am Kumar by the way.’ The driver turned up the volume of the stereo system. ‘If you need anything, please let me know.’ He drove away to the tune of Salman Khan’s pop song from “Ek Tha Tiger.” Kat nodded in agreement and the Uber cab was on its way. Six O’clock, the cool breeze began to hit the humidity in Cochin and the cab driver pulled over to the right, near the entrance to the Pavanam Heights, Shawn’s gated community. Kat paid the driver off, tipped him an extra twenty rupees and walked in through the gate, was greeted by the guard, an old man who smiled at her every time she came by despite Katrina’s rude ignorance. This time though, she swiftly turned towards the man and smiled, her hoodie dropped down and her extravagant brown hair was being carried with the mild breeze. The guard stared at her in amusement and locked eyes on the pretty young lady as she walked towards the first block of Pavanam Heights. She was filled with a weird sense of ambiguity as reflected briefly on her strange gesture. She walked towards the elevator and pressed the up button. As she waited, a young mother caught her eye. The mother was taking her kid for a walk in a pram. Kat smiled at the little baby who seemed to be in his own world, analyzing the crude manner in which people moved about. The mother looked at Kat and back at the baby. She smiled. Kat’s face was filled with a brief moment of joy until she was forced out of it with the noise of the elevator. The door opened and she entered. As the elevator door was closing, she noticed that the little child in the pram was looking at her, curiously. She smiled back at him and then directed her eyes towards the buttons inside the elevator. She pressed five. As the absence of music began to expose the sounds of the mechanism the elevator worked with, Kat zoned out into her own realm. She looked back and into a mirror that was exposing more than just her face this time. ‘Freedom. Freedom. Freedom.’ Clink. She walked out as the door opened on the fifth floor. She walked through the corridor and found the apartment to the right. 555, a silver plated sign on the door read. She rang the bell and waited for Shawn to open the door. Within no time, the door opened and a tall, handsome young man greeted Kat with a welcoming smile and gentle hug. His jaws were strong, build was athletic and his shoulders matched those of NBA stars. The stubble added to his charismatic appeal and he wrapped his heavy arms around Kat’s waist as they walked into the room. Kat’s expression reflected no interest although she appeared to be smiling. As they entered the living room, Kat sat down at the brown sofa that lay facing a huge plasma screen television that had Spongebob Squarepants on. She sat down and grabbed the remote that lay on the table in front of the sofa and made herself comfortable as she shuffled through the channels. Shawn went into his room and reappeared with a package in one hand and a pharmacy’s cover in the other. He sat down on the sofa next to Kat’s and started unpacking. ‘This is the best s**t they got. You should feel lucky to have me in your life girl.’ Shawn grinned as he pulled out the goodies. The newspaper covered package had a plastic bag that carried one gram of grade A crystal inside. Shawn began to take a sample out and place the hardened tiny off-white crystals on the table in front of him. Kat kept shuffling through the television set without even flinching. Shawn pulled out his wallet and grabbed one of his cards. He began to powder the crystals and while doing so, looked at Kat. Kat looked at him and then at the fine remedy that returned her stare, awaiting her approval to enter the blood and churn reality away. ‘He knows me.’ said Kat, as her face began to form into a sinister glow, Lana Del Rey’s ‘Young and Beautiful’ playing on MTV. She turned the volume up and started helping Shawn out. Shawn looked at her in delight, then back at his fine powdered remedy and continued to crush the powder further. ‘Here.’ Shawn handed her a rolled hundred rupee note. ‘Ladies first.’ Kat took it from him, looked him in the eye and bent down to snort the powder in. Like a professional race car driver gearing up for a race, she took in a thick line of crystal methamphetamine, jerked her head up and sniffed harder to make sure her game face was on. Her pupils instantly dilated, her face looked stormed by distaste although joy reflected in her eyes. She said, ‘f**k me.’ And passed the rolled note to Shawn, who smiled and took a line he’d set up for himself in. The race had started and the music felt like a 360 degree turn in a matt black M6, against the rules of the game. They were in for a long, adventurous night in what seemed like an isolated apartment, somewhere in the middle of the blooming metro of Cochin. ‘Will you still love me, when I’m no longer young and beautiful?’ Her world now was no longer the one that belonged to the vile beasts that dominated it. She had given up control to the deadly choices that were made in seek of all the answers her fragile heart craved for. Or so she chose to believe with slight contempt towards her actions. 2 I waited in his red hatchback, waiting outside the hospital that mom was admitted in. She was suffering from the kind of cancer that infected her entire bloodstream. I felt like I needed to be in there with her. Father thought otherwise. I still remember how the windows were rolled up, heavy dew forming on the glass and the whole car smelling familiar but strange for the setting I was in. He had been smoking continuously, one after the other, cigarette buds stubbed on the carpet. The scent annoyed me always. In fact, I used to hate the fact that he always smoked around mom, especially since she resented it. Little did I know about what went through a person’s head when he inhaled the poison! At age 24, a humble chain smoker, I still don"t quite understand the satisfaction one gets from puffing on this s**t. m*******a makes sense, crack somehow made more sense and DMT is just a miraculous remedy. Tobacco, on the other hand, is just the corporate world’s smartest profitable weapon. As I stared out, eagerly waiting for mom to come back despite slowly coming to terms with that she’d never, the white walls of the hospital standing tall, I asked him, ‘Is Amma going to come soon?’ I knew that she was in serious pain and that the possibilities of her survival were minimal. Nevertheless, a little heart told me to hold tight onto the little rosary cross she’d given me the day she got diagnosed, about three years ago, the middle of April, my birthday month. He shrugged, told me to keep it down. He turned the music on the car radio up. His favourite song was playing, ‘Yesterday’ by the Beatles. I looked away when I sensed the alcohol in his breath. I still remember the taste that diffused into my nostrils, strong liquor with a dash of Miraj, the chewing kind of low grade tobacco he used to stuff his face with. It overpowered the smell of the harsh smoke around. I always hated this. My mother got hurt when he came home after a heavy night of drinking, which was almost every day I can remember with them. That never stopped him. In fact, he had enough stock even if there wasn"t any food left at home. I was always told to be quite when he was boozing. My mom used to rush me into her room and ask me to go to bed every time he came home drunk. Even when it wasn"t sleeping time, she’d make sure I was in the room, locked away from the monster I feared as a little child. Even now, I can hear his thunderous voice rattle in my head, nightmares born of the past. I could hear the noises outside, glass cracking, Amma yelping at times, both parents screaming at each other. Often, Amma would say, ‘Keep it down. Don"t you have anything left in there? Katrina can hear you. Please. This is the alcohol talking.’ Followed by this, Amma would be screaming back at him in response to the harsh toned words that came out of his mouth. He’d often call her a b***h. I never dared set foot outside the room. More than I valued Amma’s instruction, I was afraid of the creature that revealed itself every night, deadlier than the previous day. I was seven then. Amma had been battling Leukaemia for the past three years and fourteen days. My father hadn’t been slightly moved by this curse that ruined my sorry excuse of a childhood. Irrespective of her health, she was to be active around the house and follow his orders until she was bed ridden by the deadly illness. She had to buy her medication from the money that Uncle Jerry dropped off when he occasionally did visit. Uncle Jerry always visited when Father wasn"t around. Father, at times, if got lucky, would get his hands on this money and then drink it up too. He was evil in every definition. He was not the loving fathers I’d seen in old Malayalam movies. If it weren"t for his ignorance, she’d never die, I thought. I never quite knew what to feel towards him mostly because I barely took the time to understand him as a child. What can a frightened little girl do when what they are supposed to look up to with affection resembles a horror movie that came alive? That f*****g drunk killed her! I blame him for everything bad that happened in life. Luckily for me, mother was only busy being a slave to the guy for about two hours before bed time, then later at night after I’d pretend to fall asleep. She’d come and spend about an hour with me before I went to bed. She knew I couldn"t sleep with the entire ruckus in its works outside the door that I was shielded by. At times, she had fresh bruises that only got worse the next day, cuts on her recently washed pink face and fresh sores all over her covered body. I often saw blood stains on her garments that she’d tried desperately to hide when she came to kiss me good night. However, the strength of the woman was in never letting her only child know how much she hurt within after all the torment she’d been facing ever since I can remember. She didn"t seem sad or to have been slightly swayed emotionally although I almost certainly knew he’d given her a good beating for no obvious reason. She’d read me stories so that I’d calm down. She was an artist with people, this I knew. I was a mature child for my age and the credit goes to all the time I had spent alone, reading and watching movies on the old tiny television when Amma was busy and Father was never at home. Amma’s life lessons and little stories did help. She treated me like a woman her age with a lot of playful jokes that helped me relate to her easily. This didn"t help me understand the intensity of the situation Amma was in enough though. This is one regret I hold, locked up in the dark caves of my mind. I never wanted her to go away. But I was forced to. If she stayed longer, he’d start yelling her name out loud. If she stayed longer, he would have tortured her. That was one moment I’d seen Amma’s true feeling towards her existence come out. Her face would turn pale and her eyes would indicate fright, terror, agony for that split second. She’d then leave the room instantly, almost as quickly as she left my life, without a proper good bye. I don"t blame her though. I understood. To avoid seeing her like this, even for a brief second, I did what an innocent mind could. I learned a little trick. I’d pretend to fall asleep. To me, she was the only person in the world that knew what love meant, the only one I can say that I truly ever loved. The only one to have loved me for whatever I mean to this cruel world. At times I asked her if Father was okay and she’d reply, ‘Daddy just had a bad day. He needs to sleep and so do you.’ The woman was forgiving and kind, full of heart, the only one I knew that had heart yet the quickest to disappear from my life. She loved us with all her mind and body, evident in all her deeds and words. Even when things were tearing herself apart from within, she’d embrace love and compassion towards the outside world. She was the epitome of the line in the song I listen to, ‘strength of a woman.’ ‘Why? Just why her and not him?’ I ask myself every day. I once overheard a doctor, shortly after she was diagnosed, when she was in bed continuously for a few days, say that she’d not make it. I remember Father leave the room immediately and head to the closet in the living room where he stocked up his alcohol. He then sat there listening to some music on an old radio while he lit up a cigarette and downed the entire liquid, his eyes on the little television set. I had stayed beside my mom and the doctor left the room. I knew she was getting sicker. I asked her, ‘Amma. Is God going to listen to my prayers?’ Amma then said, ‘Kat. God loves little kids talking to Him. Sure He will. Come here you little angel.’ She said this every time I asked her about God listening to prayers. Then she hugged me tight, told me that she loved me more than anything in the world and began another one of her exciting stories I loved to listen to. She never ran out of stories. I heard them with as much excitement as always although I could feel her body slightly shivering. Her voice was still as powerful as it was. The moment my eyes met her’s and her’s met mine were the most beautiful moments I can recall of my life. Today, I can barely remember her face, but those moments remain as blood stains in my heart. I was playing with an old doll that uncle Jerry gave me for my previous birthday as Amma fell asleep after her story about the elephant who ate a needle hidden in bananas a cruel man fed him. It was cousin Rufus’s and I treated it very well. I didn"t quite understand what the doctor meant that day until it all happened. All these things, for some reason were running through my head as I awaited some good news from Uncle Jerry who was supposed to come see us at the parking lot after the operation was done. It was getting dark now and Father was in a sound drunken sleep. I often felt like opening the door and running towards the hospital. In his presence, I simply felt like running away. I imagined I could somehow find Amma. If I saw her then, she wouldn"t have felt like leaving me alone with this cruel man. I would have felt safer and happier at the fact that Amma’s warm breasts would shelter me from the world outside when she held my little head close to her heart. However, fright froze everything around but my mind. As time progressed, I started feeling worse, losing hope. I was imagining how life would be without Amma for a second, now that I’d started losing confidence in her coming back from the hospital. After all, she was rushed in there under emergency circumstances. I forced myself to think otherwise and sorrow began to bloom like a dark Rose that never faded on that ice cold night. It started to rain outside and the stench in the car was all I had to comfort myself with when loud thunder struck. As expected, Father was sound asleep, snoring, his mouth wide open and a bottle firmly in his right hand, salivating over whatever thoughts ran through his wicked mind. As I looked out, into the untidy dark night, I saw a tall figure approach the vehicle from a distance. The man was walking towards me. He was soaking wet under the pouring sky, gradually coming closer. I recognized the man as Uncle Jerry. His face was sunk in a mixture of pain and despair, his eyes wandering around in search for comfort as much as freedom from the situation at hand. This usually happened when he’d come home to meet Amma and see the wounds on her. I instantly derived from his expression that everything I held dearly had just been washed away in that rain. My little mind could conceive that much from reading a man’s face. He got closer to the vehicle, saw me peeping out, looking anxiously at him. Water rolled down his face, covering the tears that came out as he ignored me and walked to the right side of the car. He knocked on the window. Father was irresponsive. I was too afraid to wake him up. Uncle Jerry immediately started tapping the window harder with the palm of his hand. He was standing in the rain, bumping against the window pane of Father’s red colour 800, one thing he held so dearly. Father woke up, saw Uncle Jerry. He slowly got up, rolled down the window. He was still drunk, eyes sunk into his cragged face. ‘What?’ he asked. Uncle Jerry whispered something and for the first time in my life, I saw my father scared. He looked at me and then back at Uncle Jerry. He got out of the car and they started talking. The next thing I saw was my father leaning against the car, facing away from Uncle Jerry, weeping. This was new to me, very new. He looked sadder than usual. Tears rolled down this face for some reason, these tear drops caught my eye despite the heavy rain that drenched his entire body. I had no time to be inquisitive of the situation. This meant only one thing to me. I had accepted what my little heart secretly anticipated. On one side of my mind, I felt relieved at the fact that Amma would never have to face this cruel man again. On the darker depths of my soul, I felt a strange sense of loneliness creep into my body as I started shivering to the tune of the cold rain drops that hit the roof of the car and rolled down the windows rapidly. I looked at the hospital building at that moment, ‘Amma. I’m sorry I left you.’ The next few days were hectic. I still hadn"t seen Amma. She had passed away due to a pointless transfusion as her condition was getting worse. Father increased the alcohol intake. I stayed at home for a few days after that. The last thing I remember about Amma was the funeral. I stared as people around wept for my mother. Uncle Jerry seemed strong enough to hide his emotions, but I could see, was weeping inside. I stood there, a seven year old little girl, tears rolling down her face, but nothing to express. Father had missed out on the funeral, was busy getting drunk somewhere. The dark brown coffin was terrifying to me as I witnessed Amma in it. She seemed happier than I’d ever seen her though. Her skin was pale, her lips smiling and her beautiful brown eyes were shut firm. I didn"t know what to do when she smiled as those who loved her cried to her. I was comforted by the fiend that looked up to the Grim Reaper. This helped me get used to the idea of being lonely, accepting fate, kissing Amma’s soft warm skin for one last time. Nothing else bothered me at that moment but the idea of facing Father when Amma wasn"t around. I wish I’d said good bye to her as well. Maybe then, knowing it all, she could have given me some soothing words to take along the road that lay ahead. 3 The sun was still rising and the birds in and around the Pavanam Heights community began their natural hum. With the cries of nature fearlessly circulating amidst the new age, Kat, half covered under thick sheets, lying naked on Shawn’s bed, woke up and turned her head to the right immediately to catch a glimpse of the man that lay beside her. He was sound asleep and snoring out loud. She looked back up at the ceiling and stayed like that for a brief moment. ‘I have to go now.’ She suddenly rose and without an indication that she’d just woken up, grabbed her clothes that lay on a chair next to the bed and started walking towards the bathroom. Her curvy physique didn"t oscillate as much as usual when she hurried in to freshen up. Her beautiful round breasts moved around in accordance with every step she took. A piercing shined bright hanging from her left n****e as the sun rays that penetrated the window glass struck the silver. As she entered the washroom, she looked herself in the mirror and then looked away. She looked tired, but stunned, as though she’d done something unexpected. Kat felt this way every time she woke up next to a person naked. She had a long night and it had taken a toll on her energy levels. She had s*x with Shawn at least three times under the influence of the ecstasy that one of Shawn’s friends had dropped off at apartment 555. As she turned the tap on to fill the tub up with hot water, she began to think about the previous night. She’d been tripping hard on the high quality drug she had taken in two days ago and the ecstasy pills were simply an add on. She tried remembering where she had left her purse and bags. Then she thought of having s*x with Shawn. She remembered him ask, ‘Again?’ as she nodded continuously with that pleasure face on. It was burning down there between her thighs and she wondered why. She thought she’d probably overdone it this time. It wasn"t the first time they had s*x with each other, not a first under the influence of drugs either. However, she always felt uneasy after she’d woken up the next day next to Shawn. It was a Monday now and she had to head for work immediately. She thought of what her boss would say and prepped her replies. This was uncommon as Kat usually never thought much when it came to justifying her actions. After all, she knew that no matter what she did wrong, a blow job in-between work hours could save her ass from getting into trouble and that a night she’d already spent with Mr. Hakim gave her job security. She walked out of the bathroom, covered in a robe and straight to the living room where she’d left her things. As she was passing by, Shawn woke up and looked at her. He pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes, still covered in the sheets. His muscular arms rose as he yawned. Kat ignored him and walked out of the room. Shawn was used to this by now. When Kat had come back, holding a cigarette packet and some fresh clothes she’d just bought for herself, ready to go into the washroom, Shawn sprung up and said, ‘Kat. How was last night?’ Kat looked at him in amusement. That was the first time in nine years that Shawn had ever asked her this question. She said, ‘Good. I don"t remember much but I know I felt good. It wasn"t just the E. Im hurting down there like never before, if you know what i mean.’ Shawn was startled at her response. His face was suddenly filled with a manly blush that only Kat had the joy of seeing every now and then. Kat threw the clothes she’d just picked onto the bed and then walked in for a bath. Shawn followed her in and grabbed her around the waists. He began to kiss her on the neck. They were facing the mirror and Kat had her eyes on the reflection. She stood there for a moment and then snapped. ‘Shawn. Stop. I don"t like it. I have to go now. Its time for work. My boss would be waiting.’ Shawn slid his hands down, slipped it into the robe and touched her v****a gently. He smiled and said, ‘Okay.’ Kat looked at him with a frown and then walked towards the bath tub. ‘Boss would be waiting for you to get some work done. Better hurry up now. Make sure you clean up well. He wouldn"t like it if you smelled like me.’ Shawn walked away after saying these words. Kat knew that this man had no respect for her body as anything else but a s*x toy. However, Shawn was the only man in the world she wanted to trust at that moment. She had known him for nine whole years and they had gone through a lot of bad times together. Shawn was always there to help her out and Kat felt indebted towards his strange kindness. She hadn’t felt safer with anybody else since Amma. He was the only friend that Kat believed to have. She sat in the tub and began to lather her exquisite body with gel. Her face began to alter into a series of mixed emotions as she rubbed her neck and lathered herself. She knew she needed to escape herself. She didn"t know how. Shawn and Kat met shortly after her mother’s death. He was one of the local kids that played cricket with her cousin Rufus. He developed a liking towards the young girl and they became really good friends. Over time, their relationship seemed inseparable. Today, Shawn was a leading sales manager at an Audi outlet in Cochin. Besides his regular job as a sales manager, Shawn also made a lot of money at modelling agencies as a free lancer. He was first hooked up with a job there by Kat at her magazine firm, DeLustious Inc., based in New Delhi. This was a return favour for supporting her through a rough patch that Kat faced when she was younger, an aspiring fashion model in India. Shawn took care of her, gave her a home and helped her travel around in search for a job during her teen years. He was about five years older than her and born with a silver spoon up his ass. Naturally, this made him get all the chicks in the world, but Kat was special to him. Or so she was made to believe. He used his sales skills to help sell her image to firms through social media and news agencies. She’d reached where she was because of him, she often thought. This was what truly held her close to Shawn. Kat never shared anything about herself with Shawn, except for details regarding her professional life. However, Shawn was a really emotional man. He expressed every little thing that bothered him or made him happy to Kat. The kind of relationship they had was unique, but nonetheless, still one sided. They were friends with benefits in society’s definition and to Kat, that was all she caught hold of as she grew through time. Kat walked out through the bathroom door, naked, after a fresh shower, cold droplets of water dripped dow her flat belly. She was drying her hair and walked towards the bed where she’d left her clothes. She wiped herself swiftly, tossed the towel aside and picked up a purple Victoria Secret top. She looked at the collar first and pulled it over her torso. She wore a black ripped jeans to match the shirt. Kat then turned to a little toiletry bag that she’d left with the clothes. She took out an eye liner and lip gloss as she started painting her face with routine girly make up. As she walked out of the room, elegantly made up, showing off her well brushed hair, she noticed that Shawn wasn"t in the apartment. He’d left a note on the table next to a hundred rupee currency note. Kat was curious as to what the note had to say. She walked to the table. It read, “Kat. Was a fun night. Im off to my parents". Wont be back for a while now. Here’s what you really want. Sorry for everything. Thank you for the service though. If you wanna see me after this, call me. Hugs, Shawn.” Kat was slightly shocked for a second. She didn"t know how to react to this in truth. At the moment she wrote it off as a prank that Shawn pulled on her. For some reason though, she picked up the hundred rupee note and put it in her pocket. She then crumbled the paper and left it on the table. She walked towards where her purse was, picked it up, unplugged her phone that was charging next to the purse and walked out of the apartment. Now, Kat began to feel a stranger sense of ambiguity. She wasn"t moved by the fact that she was possibly losing another person she thought was worth the time spent on. She was annoyed by his reaction to her companionship during all the while they’d known each other. She felt irked that he had treated her like a w***e. Anger creeped into her face as she grabbed her phone and began to ring Shawn up. She stood on the granite floored corridor, fiercely curious about what was going on. She then looked at the picture of Shawn and her smiling that she’d set up as his contact pic and suddenly hung up. She was no longer annoyed at her only possible friend in the world. She felt relieved as she began to go over the content of the little note he’d left for her. Her relief rolled down her face, stained with black waterproof mascara in the form of a tear. For the first time in her life, she sensed a brief moment of freedom as she firmly held herself together and walked towards the elevator. She was no longer friends with benefits with this man that’d she’d known for so long. Nine years. This wasn"t a joke. To him, it was. Then again, she wrote that off as she entered the elevator at the clink sound. She knew that all she was to him as was as a s*x toy ever since their relationship as friends began. After all, although she claimed his virginity, to her, he was just another man she’d f****d. She was where she could be because of herself now. The elevator doors began to shut as she bowed down, staring at her red Chanel heels. Her right hand began to twitch. ‘What is my worth as a being among beasts?’ She burst into laughter. She suddenly turned around and looked herself in the mirror. This calmed her down for a brief moment until dreadful thoughts began to spring into her conscience. Her face began to sink in. As the elevator began to drop, her smile dropped. Her eyes teared up and she began to weep. She was weeping with the stern expression on her face. She looked herself in the eyes. Her heartbeat rose and tiny drops of sweat formed on her upper lip, much like the dew drops that formed on her Father’s car before it’d started raining that night. She remembered what her mother once said when Kat was by her side the day before she died. “Time is not a friend unless you make it your friend little Kat. You will learn to some day, when you"re a grown girl. For now, be my little girl and give Amma a hug.” ‘I have to go now.’ The elevator reached ground zero and the door opened. Kat had her mask on, freshly made up, without a trace in the world that she was crying. The lady that she saw on Friday evening was standing there holding the handle of a blue pram. She smiled at the lady and then at the little kid who locked his eyes on the beautiful young lady that just walked out of the elevator. The lady smiled back and the kid looked at her strangely, a tiny GI Joe action figure in his hands. They had recognised her as the woman that was staring at them the other day. Kat walked past them and took her phone out to call a cab. ‘Kumar.’ She said when the driver picked up at the third ring, walking down towards the gate of Pavanam Heights. ‘ Yes madam.’ A voice said. ’ Can you come and pick me up from the place you dropped me off at on Friday?’ she asked. ‘Of course CatherineXOXO, give me ten minutes.’ Katrina hung up. She walked past the old guard and wished him good morning. The man startled by her greeting, still sleepy from a long night, was speechless. As she moved out through the gate she heard the old man say in a hurried tone, ‘Good morning madam. Thank you. Come again.’ She was slightly confused but ignored the sound waves and walked towards the other side of the road. She took out a cigarette and lit it up as she walked forward. The sun rays reflected off her earrings and pink nails as she strolled through the open air. There was no traffic to bother her usually during this hour outside the community. Her pink purse was dangling from her left shoulder and with her movement drew attention to her artistic body that was magnified by the slim fit top she wore. The chain attached to the leather of the purse ran through the centre of her cleavage and exposed her aesthetic breasts. Her piercing was visible through the top she wore. A man who jogged past her turned back to take a look at her ass as she walked to the other side. She walked without a care in the world although she’d noticed that the man’s ogling eyes were scanning her body. She took a long drag as she turned around, facing the tar paved road that lay in front of a giant hoarding that stuck to the gate of the community which read, “Pavanam Heights. Live in peace.” She stood at the side of the road awaiting her ride to work. Her head dropped down, eyes glued to her phone screen as she was going through her f*******: newsfeed. One hand swiped the screen as she took tiny drags at intervals from the lit cigarette that was in her left hand. She noticed about 300 friend requests awaiting confirmation. She began to go through them, something she rarely did. She started accepting random friend requests that she thought had interesting names on f*******:. This was something extremely rare, especially for a girl who was constantly influenced by the weird rules of social media. She was the kind that tried desperately to elevate her digital image where she could have a shot at normality by creating a world of fantasy, like all the other people out there. She’d forgotten all about the mean note that Shawn left. She focused on her phone, embracing a friend she knew was forever loyal, Marlboro Gold. 4 I stayed at home with the man I despised most for a few months after Amma died. Father was drinking more than usual for a few days and then had disappeared for a while one fine day. I didn"t care about where he was or what he’d done. I didn"t care about whether he survived or not. I lived off the government school free lunch and prepped myself to school everyday. I ate leftovers from the kitchen and finished all the pickles Amma had left for me before she went away. I sure hope he’d gone and killed himself or burned his liver down or something. I always overheard Amma tell him that that’s what would happen to him if he didn"t stop ingesting so much liquor. I found comfort during this dark time in his absence. I didn"t care about how Id survive, a little lonely girl in a tiny cream painted house in the outskirts of Cochin. I spent the time reading Amma’s old books and watching television when I wasn’t busy sleeping. It was probably the most peaceful moment in life, those five days. To my misfortune, he was brought back home on a Sunday, scrubbed up clean, well-dressed and neatly shaved. He looked like a new man on the Sabbath or something. I was tired, annoyed, sad, angry and filled with hatred to notice any positivity in my own life, let alone his. Uncle Jerry came with him that day. They sat in the living room over coffee and discussed things about a new job. Resent slowly started diffusing into my mind towards Uncle Jerry. I wondered how he’d suddenly become friends with the man that killed his little sister. Uncle Jerry brought me lots of good food that day. Father and him surprisingly had a lot to talk about despite their differences. This annoyed me though I was slightly relieved by the fact that I didn"t have to worry about starving to death after what felt like five ironically pleasant days in a cold desert. I felt like he was stabbing my dead mother behind her back, even though she was no more. To me, she still was breathing through my lungs and I considered what Uncle Jerry did by talking to my father as treason for some reason. I felt like he had transformed too, in a subtle manner. I spoke nothing to either of them and hid myself in the room. Father seemed different. He’d changed ever since he’d come back that day, although I wish he just left and never returned. Amma’s death was the worst thing that had ever occurred to me and I reacted surprisingly contrary to how an eight year old child would. I began to build up hate towards every living blood bond I had on Earth. To father though, it was a blessing in disguise. He no longer had to come home drunk and beat the living s**t out of the wife he no longer loved. He could save that energy on f*****g random women for pleasure instead. I stayed in my room all day whenever Father was home. He’d spend time at home for only about a few hours during the day, drinking it up and listening to the boring radio. The same old routine at a lower intensity. At nights, he barely ever came. When he did, he’d bring one of the ladies back from work. I could hear a new voice giggle and mild intoxicated gibberish as they’d go into Father’s room every now and then. The next thing I’d hear were the occasional grunts, loud noises and heavy panting that diffused through the thin walls that separated my room from theirs. I knew what was going on in there. I just never took any offence to what my father was doing by bringing whores home. It was his life and I had no say in it. He didn"t matter to me anyways and I meant nothing to him; never did. This was a relationship I established on the grounds that according to me, he killed Amma. And now, he was bringing slutty women home and laying them in the very same bed that she used to make love to him on. Nevertheless, I imagined how Amma would react to it. At that tender age, I imagined that if she was still alive, she’d take me into my room and tell me stories while the heartless bastard f****d another b***h in my their room. To him, women were all bitches, s*x toys. Something used to penetrate and release all the built up tension, getting rid of his juices. Sometimes, I heard them laugh and talk out loud about a future with kids and cars and things like that. I’d usually try to ignore it spitefully. When I did hear some absurd portions of their conversations about a future together I’d derive humour from it as I imagined how grim their life would be, filled with abuse and torture. Poor b***h, I thought. The fact was that it annoyed me to hear my father sound happy. He was a different man after Amma was gone and was feeling better than ever. He got a new job as a manager in a steel factory with uncle Jerry’s contact’s. He was making more money, I suppose. He drank less but hadn’t stopped. He was still dependent on this remedy. He looked different. He dressed different. He had gained a little weight which made him fit into his clothes right, unlike before. He had a lot of s*x with a lot of different women and he was doing his duty as a father in the economic sense. Nevertheless, he was the same cold asshole that let Amma die in pain. Her death hadn"t impacted him in a negative way at all. In fact, it seemed to have turned his life around for the better. He’d hired a lady to take care of me, which I never quite liked. I missed Amma so much. She could never be replaced for me. Even though he could easily find replacements for Amma almost every night he came home, my heart was tearing apart from within. I was burning with suppressed hatred, anger, agony and tremendous pain. I had nightmares that made my body sweat rapidly as I’d move around, sleeplessly in bed. I wanted Amma and not this unattractive lady who probably was f****d by Father. Her name was Teresa. In truth, she was a sweet woman, always dressed in an old sari, no jewellery and her hair always tied in a knot. She was plump, hair had strings of grey in between, skin was dark and she always seemed to be genuinely smiling at me through her slightly crinkled face. I was told to call her Teresiamma. The first day she came home, Father spoke to me as I bent my head down, staring at my toes, listening to his cold words penetrate my mind. He said, ‘Katrina, this is Teresiamma. She will take care of you. Don"t throw tantrums. If you do, I’m sure you know what will happen.’ That was probably the longest conversation I can remember with the man. He sounded genuinely saddened by the fact that I was a motherless child, but his face was filled with the same vile expression he’d always had towards me. I guess he saw a lot of Amma in me. He never looked me in the face after Amma’s death. I thought he was disgusted by the genetic make up that included Amma. Teresiamma was our neighbour’s old maid. She cooked, did the laundry, cleaned and took care of my needs when Father wasn"t home. I’d usually avoid her and lock myself up in the room. She’d come in three times a day to give me food when I wasn"t attending school. Other times, I’d find a lot of tasty food made in the kitchen when I arrived from school and nobody was home. I was scared to get close to any woman that entered that house. It didn"t matter who they were, for I had the illusion that Father was f*****g them all. I just couldn"t take it, I don"t even know why. Amma was dead. I stopped talking to God anymore. He’d never listen to me anyways, I thought. This world was meant for people like Father. I loved Amma feeding me hot rice and curry with home made pickles. I’d never let this maid come close to me, let alone feed me. I could eat on my own. I didn"t need anybody’s help. However, I didn"t know how to cook yet. She was a really good cook, I must admit. She made the kind of curries I’d never tasted before. She’d always make something tastier than the day before although I barely ate most of it. I was afraid of Father to chuck the food around or throw tantrums. Instead, I’d purposely leave a lot of food untouched. I’d waste it. Teresiamma somehow understood everything I did. She smiled at it all, as though I was just being mischievous. She seemed to understand the position I was in better than I myself could. Safe to say, over time, I knew that she had a huge heart that very few people in this world are blessed with. I didn"t want to be consumed by that on the other hand. And so, I kept my distance. She was always moving around the house and doing the chores. When Father came home, she’d collect her pay for the day, come into my room and say goodbye with a charming smile and then leave. I never spoke to her except for when I was watching television alone, on our new TV. She’d sit down with some vegetables on the floor, a giant tray and start chopping them. This was usually before lunch, when I’d finished with tuition at this new school Uncle Jerry enrolled me in a few days after that sinister Sunday Father came home from the dead. While she was at it, she’d carefully observe what I was doing. She’d then ask me questions about what was on the television and smile every time I chose not to ignore her. She was very smart for a woman who hadn’t been educated. This was the first time in the world that I ever got to know anything about a person outside my family since Amma’s death. Uncle Jerry had stopped visiting me for a while then. He’d send home gifts and clothes with Father and the man would give it to Teresiamma. She’d then bring it and drop them off in my room when she came to say good bye. This was a routine that followed for a long while. This once, I was watching a programme on National Geographic about leopards and I remember Teresiamma ask me a really weird question. A male leopard was climbing up this giant tree and Teresiamma began to laugh. I’d curiously turned back, stared at her and then back to the TV. She asked, ‘Katrina. Why is the spotted cat climbing a tree? Is it going to catch birds?’ I’d looked back at her at my amazement towards her curiosity. She spoke to me in a very strong old fashioned Malayalam and I didn"t know how to react. I smiled at her and at that moment, her face was glowing with delight. She was happy that she’d gotten a reaction out of me. I told her that leopards hid in the trees, under the shade and away from other larger animals. She was happy at my response even though it seemed as though she knew a lot more about leopards than I did. She then cracked a joke that made me laugh for the first time in a really long time. She asked me, ‘Katrina, why can’t a leopard hide well?’ I looked at her, stammered for a bit and then immediately said that I didn"t know what she meant. She said, ‘Because its alway spotted.’ I cracked up. Her left eye teared up, I saw, as she bent down and resumed to slice long green beans. I’d taken this incident as my leverage over Teresiamma and decided to socialise with her out of self-interest. I made it a point to not get too close to this mother who was more than capable of loving a damaged strangers child like Katrina Thomas Mannemplackal. Her skills with chopping food stuff up was something like I’d never seen before. She was way better than Amma was. I remember how I used to sit next to Amma when she sliced potatoes, gourds, raw banana’s and jackfruit. That was the time I spent with Amma, her telling me old stories about how life was like growing up. Amma learned everything she knew about cooking from Grandmother before she ran away from home and got married. I always thought that it was the biggest mistake she’d made. But if she didn’t, I wouldn"t have been born. I thought I probably would have been born to some family up north or so. Then again, after her death, I often wished I was never born. I was alone now, with only things that Amma told me about life, herself and her family, about how she fell in love with a charming young construction worker from the city. Her stories always amazed me and I listened with utmost interest. She had a loving family until she chose to detach from everything and start a new life that turned against her. I was the only thing that gave her hope from the solitude of the world. The image of Father she painted in her stories always brought a glow to her face. She’d then continue with her work and think over things she’d told me, her face slowly fading into a confused state of emotions. This was as she was trying to indirectly tell me that times change and people with it. I had to learn how to cook as I prepped myself for the lonesome life ahead just as Amma did. I began to sit next to Teressiamma and observe her as she sliced vegetables every day before lunch. I’d pretend as though I was watching TV when she’d be busy with her work. As I’d move closer to her, she’d smile and look at me, then back at the vegetables. Every time she asked me questions about what was on the TV, I’d respond with enthusiasm. Then, I’d ask her about what she was doing and how to do it. Over the course of the next few months I spent at that empty household, I learned how to cut vegetables, cook rice and make sambar pretty well for a little girl of my age. A little cunning heart told me not to get too close to the fire that gives you the illusion that it’s going to keep you warm. It could incinerate your soul if you weren"t well armored. Precaution prevents cure. I live by this.