Tragic Melody

Chapter - 2

"Cross punches."

I punched across my body, and shifted weight forward, using it to catapult my fist to the bag.

"Side kick and Punch."

Taking a step back and swivelling my hips, I shifted my weight to my left foot before pivoting, lifting my right leg from the ground with my knee bent, powerfully striking it out, and hit the heavy bag with the heel. After 10 times repeating the kick, I punched the bag 10 times too.

My muscles were burning from inside but I was not ready to give up now.

"Lunge, kick, and Jab," he ordered.

I was breathless and was dripping with sweat, still, I lunged down, exploded up and shifted my weight to the left foot. Then I lifted my right leg and kicked square on the punching bag. Immediately after that I brought it down to a boxing stance and started packing cross punches, alternating hands with each punch.

"Now burpees with pushups."

Kill me now.

Standing back, I jumped up and squatted down. But before I could go into the pushup position my body gave up and I fell flat on the floor on my stomach. I was breathing like a dog at that time.

"I think it's enough training for today," he said.

I turned on my back, still laying on the floor and looked at dad in disbelief. "Yo-u think?"

The sarcasm in my voice amused dad because he laughed before offering his hand to pull me up. I took it gladly and stood up on my feet, the full length of 5'7 but still falling short of him by four inches. I always had people telling me how I was the younger female version of my father. I inherited his chocolate brown hairs, doe eyes, broad forehead and olive complexion. The only physical feature I shared with mom was my cinnamon-brown eye colour. Dad and Max had green eyes—the only physical feature they both share.

Dad's eyes were shining with contentment as he grabbed the hand towel and wiped my sweat from my face and patted my back. But the old glimmer of happiness was still missing from them. I haven't seen it in so long.

"You're getting better at this every day, buddy." He said and lightly punched my arm.

The nickname he had for me truly justified our bond. He was not only my father but one of my best friends, my partner in crime. I knew I could discuss almost anything with him without fearing any judgment in his eyes. Mom and Max feared whenever we team up against them because our pranks never failed and together our success rate was 110%. From welcoming them with a splash of water to hiding all the batteries of important gadgets, he has always been my partner in every stunt. Sometimes we innovated some pranks together, like replacing Max's shampoo with slime or hiding an alarm clock in mom's office bag which would ring when she was at work.

I smiled at him, pulling off my boxing gloves. "Of course, you will say this. Fishing for compliments, coach?"

He rolled his eyes and dropped the hand towel on the ground. "That just added 4 more reps of the pushups in your workout routine."

My jaw dropped and this time I punched him but not too hard. "You're cruel."

"No. I am your father s***h best friend."

I didn't reply to his attempt at a joke and sat on the floor to do some stretches till my body comes to its natural temperature.

"Something is off today about you," he asked and sat in front of me. "What is it, buddy?"

He has been training me for the last 10 years, he could read me just by my moves. I could also tell about his mood by his punches but he was a little better than me at it.

I looked up from my stretching stance. "I could say the same about you but that would be a waste of time since I already know you were punishing yourself for deliberately hurting mom."

As expected, his face remained impassive at my comment and he shook his head. "I was the one to ask first. So you are not digressing this conversation on me and your mom."

I scoffed. The truth was visible to anybody with two eyes. Mom and Dad still loved each other and can not see each other in pain. But there was something that was making him give up on our happy family.

We know what it is, Mel. It's hard to ignore the obvious.

"Okay. I will tell you," I said, took a long breath and sat straight. "I am joining school back for my senior year."

It was a simple sentence though totally shocking for him. The way I lived these past 4 years made it literally impossible for anyone to even think about me taking steps for making my life normal again. I turned into a girl who didn't talk to anybody other than only a few people close to her, didn't go out much, kept buried herself in books for days, only talked when it's inevitable and totally detached herself from the world outside her home.

Anybody would have been surprised by seeing me suddenly thinking about going to a place filled with numerous strangers, that too daily when I didn't stay in public places for more than an hour.

So, his shock was reasonable.

Just like mom, he too studied me for a few minutes. The only contrast was his stoic face which gave nothing away and I was worried if he could see through my emotions.

Please believe me, dad. Please.

"Do You really want to do this, buddy?" he finally asked.

Gathering all the power that I could muster to lie, I nodded with a small smile. "Yes. I am tired of hiding away like a dirty secret."

His face hardened at my comment. "You are the purest soul, buddy. There is nothing that could besmear it."

Wish I could believe this, dad. Wish I wouldn't feel filthy about my own existence.

My throat clogged with emotions but I shrugged and kept the mask of normalcy on.

"I know."

"Good," he said and stretched his legs for a hamstring stretch.

I copied his action and leaned down in a hamstring stretch. "So you are cool with my sudden decision?"

"I will be with you in your every decision. Nothing makes me happier than your smile. I miss your carefree chortles, lighting up my day. If that makes you happy and if you think you are ready to take this step then who am I to stop you." He replied, his voice heavy with emotions. "I am so proud of you, buddy. You are my strong soldier and I will make sure to stand with you wherever I can."

It was true when they say parents' love is the most unselfish and real.

I tried hard not to let my eyes tear up and came back to my normal position. Dad must have noticed that because he got up and kissed my temple. I held him for a while before letting go.

"But you can't join the school, coach." I laughed, trying to make the air around us light.

He looked deep in thought for a while before smirking.

"Coach, don't. I am warning you."

He shrugged innocently. "I didn't even say anything."

"No you didn't, but I could hear the gears of your mind working loud and clear. So don't waste your time on any plotting. I need to do this by myself."

He sighed in annoyance which made my smile bigger. "Okay, I won't."

Getting up from the floor, I wore my jacket. "Good."

After that, he locked the gym and drove me back home.

One thing I followed religiously in the last three years was my training sessions. I worked out daily and learned Karate, Taekwondo and Boxing. The gym became the only place to release all the pent-up anger, frustration, and hatred that I had for myself.

I hated myself for still feeling those creepy touches of their hands all over my body, for being the reason for my parents' separation and many things. It drove me mad, so I channelized my feelings into exercising and working out until my bones went numb and lifeless. That served well for my fighting skills and mental peace too.

I wouldn't have that constant urge to scream whenever I had nightmares or flashbacks—which were quite often—I would just punch and kick until it all numbed.

"We are here," dad announced, bringing me back to reality.

I looked out of the window to see that we had reached home, so I grabbed my bag. "Join us for breakfast?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uhh, buddy, I have to meet a client."

Suddenly I wanted to punch something so hard but I clenched my fist tightly. "Don't lie, dad. You were never good at it." I sat straight, staring at my front. "Mom yesterday stopped by the gym to talk to you but you were too busy with your women clients. I thought it would be good for you both to talk where you both will have to act civil. But, it's okay. You clearly don't want to do that."

"It's not—"

Before he could reply, I dashed out of the car and headed inside. I knew it was unfair to him but I tend to react irrationally when I am mad.

And right now I was mad. So mad.

Not at him or anybody, but myself, for making our family a mess. If only I was strong enough to fight back my fears and wouldn't have crawled down that alley of darkness, things must have been different.

A good different.

With heavy, angry steps I crossed the front yard and pressed the bell. Mom and Dad wanted to sell our house but I stopped them. I don't know why, but the house never scared me nor did the specific place where I was r***d. For some time I did got flashbacks whenever I walked into the living room but they soon subsided. And we have so many happy memories here that I couldn't just let go of this house because of one unfortunate night.

Shubham opened the door, welcoming me with a big grin on his face but I walked inside ignoring him fully.

"Normal etiquettes what?" he questioned and chuckled to himself.

I rolled my eyes at him, really not in the mood of saying anything, and walked further.

Instantly, the delicious smell of pancakes filled my senses, making my mouth water and lifting my mood just a tad bit. "Why are you always so cheery?" I grunted. "Or better, why are you always at my house?"

Yep. I was still grumpy.

He chuckled from behind and followed me. "Good morning to you too, Sunshine."

I scoffed internally. Mornings could never be good when I argued with dad.

Shubham's presence didn't really bother me but when I get mad, I prefer to stay alone until my temper cools down. Silence helps in thinking through rationally.

But looking at the scene in front of me, it seemed a bit tough to have just silence as my company right now.

Max was behind the kitchen counter, Skylar was leaning on the refrigerator, drinking orange juice—that guy has a weird addiction to orange juice—and Dylan was filling the water bottles patiently.

"What's up, baby sis?" Max smiled at me, and turned off the flame, placing the last pancake on the plate.

That explained the delicious smell. After all, he was the best chef in the Alders household.

"Nobody told me we have turned our house into a refuge for loud, vain, and obstinate boys," I grumbled and eyed all of them.

Dylan looked up from the sink, frowning. "I am in my sophomore year, way over being called a boy."

I shook my head. "My apologies. Obstinate and duffer boys."

He huffed in annoyance but I ignored him, sat on the kitchen island, took a strawberry from the bowl and started chewing it.

Sky rounded the corner, standing in front of me, and offered a glass of water, "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

I gave him a deadpan look, gulping the water down, "Ever wondered it's you who made me sour, not my sleeping position."

"I am told to be one of the best companies. Especially by girls." He casually shrugged and winked.

I fake gagged at him. "Only by those whose IQ is below 70."

Max snickered from across us but stifled it when Skylar glared at him, while Dylan and Shubham were having a hard time sitting straight on the chairs, in a failed attempt of controlling their laughter.

He shifted his glare to me, plopping on the chair beside me. "That's what I get for being nice."

I nodded while Max placed the plate of pancakes in front of them, came to me, kissed my forehead, and sat on the vacant seat beside Sky.

"Truth hurts, bro," he said to Skylar and then turned to look at me. "Mel, you want a plate?"

I jumped off the counter and stood straight. "I will have it after taking a shower."

He nodded in reply and I made my way to the room, heading directly to the shower.

When I think about the biggest reason why I became comfortable with being around these lunatic boys at the time when I was scared of my own shadow, was their indifference to the often prescribed way to behave with a r**e survivor. I didn't condemn sympathy because the preference for a particular emotional environment over others depends on their own choice and comfort. For me, their lack of concern—about thinking twice before talking to and in front of me—provided a semblance of normality. I knew I was broken but I didn't need everyone reminding me about it by treating me like a patient.

These boys never treated me like one and I was glad for it. They were very empathetic but there was little to no restraint on their mouth. Even when I pushed them away for a few months, they stayed with me, providing their support and trying their best to make me talk. Not about what happened or how I felt after all that, but about what my point was on their ongoing debate or who has the most handsome face.

Slowly, my walls crumbled and I came to terms with their constant presence.

Walking out of the shower, I wore my black oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. I combed my hair and pulled them in a messy loose bun before I walked back to the living room.

"You know she doesn't need that mom."

My feet came to a halt.

Eavesdropping was bad but I couldn't help stopping in front of Mom's room to hear what that conversation was about. I was sure that the she my brother mentioned was no one other than me.

"She needs to open up Max. Therapy is only for her good."

So it was indeed about me.

"She is joining school back, mom. I think that stands for some healing," he snapped at her.

She paused for a while. "I know she is. But I can't help and feel that she is doing it just to abate our concerns, trying to fix the family and our relationship. You know how your sister can't see anybody burning, who tries to help her, by the fire. Doesn't matter how much she is hurting, she will put on a mask of happiness."

Why do you know me so well, mom?

It might have made Max see her perspective because he was silent for some seconds. "I understand that, Mom. But what you're suggesting, is that we stop her going from school and send her to talk with a doctor or a psychiatrist who is a total stranger to her. Do you seriously think she will do that when she didn't even talk about it to me? Her brother, whom she knew and trusted with her life."

Hurt was conspicuous in his voice. He was once about to quit his college to stay with me but I literally forced him to not do that. It was his biggest dream to be a lawyer like mom and I couldn't let him quit. But he was hurt when I refused to talk about that incident with him.

The room again went silent for a few seconds before mom continued, "No. She won't but we can at least try. And that wouldn't impede her schooling. One session in a week or two. That's it."

He sighed. You couldn't win when Sienna Alders was adamant about something. "I will try to ask her but if she refused then you won't force her."

I knew I needed to intervene before she convinces Max for it. Nobody can escape her advocate claws.

So, I walked into the room.

"No," I announced, standing next to them, folding my arms.

They turned their heads to me, looking like deers caught in the headlight.

"Honey, we were just—"

"Mel, you know—"

Sighing, I put my hand up and they instantly stopped. "Don't need to pretend. I heard your conversation. It was about me that's why I felt the need to intervene." I turned to mom. "I don't want to go to the therapy and that's it. This topic is closed now."

"But, sweetie—"

"I said no." My voice was sharp which made me flinch.

She is only worried about you, don't behave like a b***h, Mel.

"I am sorry, mom. I didn't mean to snap," I apologized. "But I don't need any therapy too. I am doing just fine and will do even better if you stop suspecting my decision. I am going back to school for myself only. It is a battle I am picking up against my fears and I intend to win it."

It took a whole lot of effort not letting my voice waver. Just the thought of being in the crowd was suffocating me. God knows how would I handle it in school.

She held my shoulders, looking directly into my eyes. "I am really happy that you are doing it, Melody. But it's just that, I feel we should give it a try too."

Did I tell you she could be very persuasive? But I was glad that I inherited that skill with her brown eyes.

"Sweet thing, I will be fine," I reassured but she was still looking wary. "Okay. Let's have a deal. If in the next two months, you won't feel like I recovered then I will join the therapy."

That ought to make her trust my step now.

"Okay," she conceded.

Inwardly, I heaved a long sigh.

Don't get too relieved, Mel. You still have your old nightmares to see in reality. Brace yourself for what is next to come.

The war hasn't yet started and I could already feel my heart bleeding.