FALLING HARD: THE BAD BOY AND ME

THE CONTRACT

CULTURE

My brother tore my copy right in front of me. I did my best to get it back from him. But I couldn't. I cried. He made me cry.

What was wrong with him? What had gotten into him all of a sudden? I raked my brain in search of every possible reason that might have made him mad over me. I started thinking from the time of our childhood. I traced every brain cell in search of that possible reason that made him change overnight. But in vain. There was nothing that would come up, for the time being.

Why was he doing all that to me? I thought and thought but couldn't understand.

......

He was acting okay when we were with our parents. He was weird only when there were none of our family members around. I thought about sharing that with my mother but I refrained. Everytime I approached her with the intention of talking about my problem, I was reminded of what she had faced in her life. Her memories still went on and off. She hadn't recovered fully. I, as a responsible daughter, needed to understand that.

After what had happened between Darren and me at school, we hardly talked with each other. Other than some disgusted looks, he spared me no word. I, on the other hand, was too shocked and hurt to initiate any conversation.

On a hot and scorching evening, we waited for our mother to pick us up. He did not sit beside me, like he did all the time. Instead, he went straight away to the shotgun seat. I sat with our bodyguard. Even though Darjeeling was just a small town, my mother feared that we might come across somebody dangerous. Father always said that when our mother was young, she had an accident that left her amnesiac. And later, as well, she had a car accident. The retrograde amnesia that she suffered had shaped her present persona so well that she never trusted anyone easily. She made it mandatory that both Darren and I were always accompanied by bodyguards. And we listened to her not because she was totally correct but because she was, to that day, undergoing therapy.

She showed signs of improvement only when we were born. But the trauma left her sceptical, which till date persists. She made sure that we were guarded. If I were in our mother's place, then I would also have done the same thing for my children. She trusted no one and why wouldn't she be sceptical when she was cheated and used by the people who were closest to her? Her relatives cheated her. They were responsible for her current condition. Well, that is about the things of the past. I could only relate to what she must have felt when her cousins tried to stab her like that.

"Sigh!" I sighed audibly, earning everybody's attention inside the vehicle. I didn't want that to happen. At least not when a cold war was ongoing between him and me. But thinking about what Darren being my brother did to me, my arteries tightened themselves into knots, hurting my heart.

*****

After dinner, I sat in my bed with a black file in front of me. The window was open wide, leading to the moonlight to bathe my light purple curtains and the room inside with its silvery glow. Calm and cool, the weather outside contradicted my inner turmoil.

I slowly and carefully opened the file that he had handed me. Eerie! It felt eerie when the first thing that I saw written was something alarming in bold italics.

Frustrated, I breathed out a heavy breath. What else could I do if not go through the information that the papers inside that file held.

A CONSENSUAL SLAVERY CONTRACT OF ONE MONTH BETWEEN CULTURE FEZONG (SLAVE) AND DARREN FEZONG (MASTER)

What shocked me even more was the content of that contract. He must have really worked hard on preparing that slavery contract. I didn't know how much hard work he had put into that, but I felt that it must have required days, or even weeks to have come to such farsighted terms and conditions as such. It read:

This contract is prepared as an agreement which defines the relationship and interaction between Darren Fezong, 10th Street, Darjeeling, India, hereinafter called the Master, and Culture Fezong, 10th Street, Darjeeling, India, hereinafter called the slave.

The contract allows the master conditional ownership of the slave to use as he pleases. The slave is legally obliged to abide by her master's commands to the best of her ability. Failing to fulfill which will lead the master to give a red card, as a punishment to the slave. Each red card expands the time of slavery by one week.

The privileges of the master or the commands of the slave cannot be transferred to a third party.

The first page of the contract was adorned with his signature in beautiful cursive handwriting, on the left-hand side. Master, was written in bold italics below his signature. And on the right was written Slave, above which I needed to put my signature. My hands trembled when I opened the cap of the pen. I could not understand what stupidity occurred to him that he was making me sign that contract and become his slave.

I prayed before taking things further. Signing that contract meant that I agreed to his terms. Doing that would mean that I was ready to dance in his direction. I looked at a little boy in his pink shorts that was engraved on my pendant.

"Culture Fezong". Brushing off every wandering thought, I signed wherever he wanted me to. After all, it was set that I had no alternative aside from fulfilling his desire.

....

I started panicking and, as expected, there was no way I could sleep. Even if I had signed the contract, even if I didn't sign the contract, I was sure I had a reason not to fall asleep. And as expected, I started playing with the switch on my bedside lamp, thinking about what I could do to escape such an arrangement. I knew I couldn't escape from the trap of the devil anymore.

Closing my eyes to sleep reminded me of those dark brown eyes...and that hate that glittered in them whenever he looked at me.

"God, where have you taken my brother? Why is he acting so weird?" I asked god through my closed mouth. I shuffled in my bed for the rest of the night.

"What if he was pranking me?" "What if he was doing that only because of boredom?" "Was he really serious?"

The thought of him being serious haunted me the most. Keeping everything aside, I only focused on one thing: I wanted my brother back. I wanted the love and that same old affection for me to reflect in his eyes. And with that greed, I started making assumptions that maybe signing that shitty contract would bring him back to me. Maybe if I let him have control over me for one month, he would turn back to his normal self.

"Culture, remember, you are a good girl. Remember that your brother loves you a lot. A month is nothing! You can endure anything and you have to endure this to bring back your loving brother to the surface." I reminded myself by massaging the chest area where my heart was placed.

....

Imagining things was one thing and doing the task was another. I was preparing myself mentally to endure the difficulties that followed the contract signing. However, the rules described therein and the punishment of the master in the form of a red card sent chills down my spine. My train of thoughts continued all night. Soon, it was dawn. The birds started chirping on the balcony. Sweet as always, the nightingale sang her song proudly.

"Wake up everyone, for the day has begun.

Wake up little one, the sun will soon shine.

Wake up, dress up and prepare yourselves.

For a bright and prosperous day for you awaits!

Wake up everyone, for the day has begun.

Wake up, dress up, smile bright, forgetting all the plights!

Wake up little one, the sun will soon shine!"

......

I had been lying wide awake in my bed since the night before and, as such, it wasn't a big task for me to leave my safe place in the morning. The daily hustle and bustle soon started in the Fezong Mansion. I went to the balcony where the warm morning light welcomed me graciously. I had always loved that side of our mansion. The scenery would always brighten my mood. I smiled, inhaling the fresh air. Gardeners were busy tending to the flowers that my grandmother loved. Maids were running to and fro doing their usual stuff.

Everything looked normal until my eyes landed on the black file that was shining brightly, reminding me of what I had become overnight.

I didn't want my mother to have another headache. And I could not disturb my father over that petty issue. My grandparents had retired after serving our business for so many decades and I didn't want to tell them as to what my brother had made me do. It was going to be a matter of a month. What bad was there in turning a slave for my own brother?

"What can he do to you, Culture? He cannot kill you!" I tried easing my erratically beating heart. To say that I feared my brother would be an understatement. It was beyond fear.

I breathed in heavily, reminding myself of the difficulties I had possibly drowned myself in.

"What else could I do? Even if I hadn't signed it then, I knew my brother well. He was sure to have me sign it ultimately."

.....

I, Culture Fezong, hereafter called the slave, agree to voluntarily give up all my rights, personal and legal, and become a slave of my owner, Darren Fezong.

I agree to obey and submit to him completely in all ways.

I fully understand that I have to serve my owner for a month starting today.

....

DECLARATION OF CONSENSUS

Both parties, Master and Slave, acknowledge having read, understood and agreed on the document describing in general what is meant by the term "Consensual Slavery".

....

I had signed the contract knowingly. There was no retreat from what I had done. I knew exactly that that was the end of me. But I still signed it with high hopes of getting my twin back to how he used to be.

"Did I make a mistake?" "Will I be able to change him into his initial self?"

Arrgh! I ruffled my hair in frustration. I was torn between the negative and positive thinking of my own. One part of my mind told me that whatever I had done was correct. Whereas the more rational side of my functioning organ of knowledge, my brain, was constantly trying to remind me of how people actually thought and acted. It tried to insinuate in my senses that my brother had no way of getting back to his former self. It tried to make me aware and awake of the facts ready at hand. At one point, I decided to have a face-to-face conversation about what his issue was. But could I? I shook my head in denial. I couldn't. I knew that I had no courage to face Darren's cold eyes, with nothing but disgust, rage and hate for me.

I gazed at the mirror in my bathroom. Still in my nightsuit, I looked like a mess. My ruffled dark black hair was nearly similar to the dark circle around my puffy eyes. Gulping the imaginary saliva, I started practicing my lines.

"What....what have you been thi.... thin.....king thinking brother? What have I done to you?" My hands trembled at the thought of pointing my fingers at Darren.

"Ugh! Forget it Culture! You are capable of only serving your master. Just forget about questioning him from now on." I knew I couldn't ask him anything. Forget about questioning, I couldn't even dare to look at him if his anger still persisted. So I did what I did the best: I tried to accept my role as his slave instead.

"His slave!"

"My brother's slave!"

I was his slave for an entire month. It was awkward, but that was the truth starting that day.

*****