Chapter 5 : Fear
1795 Words
Siyara stood in front of her bedroom mirror, a towel wrapped loosely around her. Her eyes fell on the scars across her waist-raised lines that looked like a map of pain. Each one carried a memory, a fight, a nightmare she had survived. But the newest one, still pink and raw, cut across her skin like a fresh scream. She touched it lightly, wincing. It wasn't the pain that bothered her anymore-it was that these marks would never leave. They told the world she had been broken, again and again.
A knock pulled her from her thoughts.
"Siyara!" her sister Rhea called from outside. "Come on, let's go shopping. I need new heels. You'll love this store I found. Please!"
Siyara hesitated, pulling on her shirt and covering the scar. She frowned at her reflection.
"No, Rhea," she called back. "I don't feel like it. I have... work."
"Work can wait!" Rhea said, her voice playful but firm. "You're turning into a hermit. You haven't stepped out in days. This isn't healthy. Are you scared someone might look at you? Look past you?"
Siyara stayed silent.
"Si..." Rhea's tone softened. "Don't shut me out. Wear whatever you want. I just want time with you. Please. You don't have to hide from me."
Siyara closed her eyes. Her hand still rested near her waist.
Twenty minutes later, she was walking beside her sister into the bright chaos of the mall. Rhea bounced with excitement, pulling her through aisles of dresses, shoes, perfumes, and bags. Siyara smiled faintly as Rhea tried on ridiculous hats, posed with mannequins, and snapped selfies that had her laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.
Siyara didn't try on anything. She kept her coat zipped, even in the cool air of the mall. But she watched. She listened. She breathed in her sister's laughter like it was oxygen she had been missing.
Two hours later, they stepped out and crossed the street to a quiet restaurant Rhea had been talking about all week. The evening sun painted the city gold, shadows stretching long.
They had just placed their orders when Siyara glanced out the window-and froze.
A van sped down the road, out of control. An old woman was crossing, unaware.
Before she even realized what she was doing, Siyara was on her feet and running. Her shoes slapped the pavement. People screamed. The van didn't slow.
She reached the woman just in time, pulling her out of the way with a strength she didn't know she had. The van swerved, screeched, and crashed into a lamppost. Voices shouted all around them, feet rushed closer.
The old woman was breathing hard in Siyara's arms.
"Are you alright?" Siyara asked, her voice shaking.
The woman nodded, eyes wide. Then her face softened. With trembling hands, she touched Siyara's cheek.
"You... you saved me," she whispered.
Siyara helped her sit up slowly. The woman's eyes studied her carefully.
"You're beautiful," she said suddenly. "Not just your face. What you just did... that's beauty too."
Siyara's cheeks grew hot. She looked away.
"What's your name, dear?"
"Siyara."
The woman smiled. "I'm Shaila."
"Please," she said, "come home with me. I want to thank you properly."
Siyara shook her head. "I appreciate it, but... I can't. I have work."
"You sure?"
She nodded, stepping back.
Shaila's gaze lingered. "You have an old soul, child. And a wounded heart. I hope one day you let someone truly see you."
Siyara turned and walked away.
Rhea ran up, her face pale. "Siyara, you just-! You could've been killed!"
"She's fine," Siyara whispered.
But her heart wasn't.
She walked home in silence, the weight of her scars burning under her coat.
-----
The streetlights outside flickered as Siyara leaned against the rusted railing of her balcony. The city's noise floated up faintly from below. She let out a long breath, the memory of the accident still clinging to her like smoke. Her fingers trembled as she slipped a hand into her coat pocket and touched the small shard of glass she had picked up near the accident site-just before she slipped away unseen.
Far across the city, in a dimly lit room, Aarav sat beside his grandmother. She looked fragile against the neat white sheets, a cup of turmeric milk untouched on the bedside table.
Aarav held her hand gently.
"You scared me today, Dadi," he whispered, his voice low and shaken. "I thought I almost lost you."
His grandmother gave him a soft smile, her eyes closing for a moment. "You didn't. Because of that girl. She saved me, Aarav... like an angel who came at the right time."
Aarav leaned closer. "Who was she?"
The old woman frowned, trying to remember. "She told me her name. I asked her, right after she pulled me away. I even repeated it once."
"What was it? Tell me, Dadi. I want to thank her."
Her lips parted, then paused. Her brows knitted in frustration. "I... don't remember. How strange. It was just there, on the tip of my tongue."
"She saved your life," Aarav murmured, more to himself than to her. "I have to find her."
His grandmother's voice grew soft, almost dreamlike. "She had pain in her smile, Aarav. Like someone who has forgotten what it feels like to be held. But she didn't hesitate. She just saved me... and then she was gone."
Outside the window, the wind picked up, carrying a faint sense of something lost.
Somewhere across the city, Siyara walked through narrow lanes, her hood pulled low, her face hidden. She didn't look back. Her name-spoken only once-was already fading from memory.
But Aarav, now restless with purpose, rose to his feet and whispered, "I want to thank her."
------
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Water echoed in the silence. The floor was wet and cold, hard against her body.
Siyara lay in the middle of a stone room, her wrists chained to the wall. Her gown clung to her skin, soaked through. Her lips were pale, her breaths shallow.
A faint creak broke the silence.
Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Wrong.
A man stepped out of the shadows. His face stayed hidden in the dark, only his eyes gleaming—a predator watching its prey.
He said nothing. Just stared.
Then—splash.
Ice-cold water hit her face.
Siyara jerked awake with a gasp, coughing and choking on fear. Her eyes flew open. She tried to scramble back, but the chains yanked her down.
“No… no, please, don’t,” she whimpered.
The man crouched in front of her, tilting his head, silent as a wolf watching a rabbit shake.
“I said don’t come closer!” she cried.
But he stepped in anyway.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Don’t touch me. I hate this—I’m not yours! I’m not—”
His hand grazed her collarbone.
She flinched hard, her whole body stiff.
“Stop!” she screamed. “I said stop!”
His fingers slid lower. Cold. Cruel. Possessive.
“No—please! Don’t do this! I’m not ready—I don’t want this—I’ll break—please!”
Her body shook.
“I’ll scream,” she whispered.
“Good,” he finally spoke, his voice rough and cruel. “I like when you scream.”
And she did.
A raw, desperate scream tore from her throat.
“NO! NO! GET OFF ME! DON’T TOUCH ME!”
---
Siyara jolted awake. Her body was drenched in sweat, the scream still stuck in her throat.
“No! Don’t touch me! No… no…”
The door burst open.
Her mother rushed in, pale with fear. “Siyara! What happened?” She knelt by the bed, grabbing her daughter’s cold hands. “Why were you screaming like that, beta?”
Siyara’s whole body shook. Her chest heaved as she tried to breathe. For a moment, she couldn’t speak—only sob.
Then her eyes met her mother’s. Red. Terrified. Hollow.
“Ma…” she whispered. “Please… save me. I can’t… I can’t bear this anymore…”
Her father stepped forward quietly, pain etched on his face. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She flinched.
His hand snapped back. Guilt filled his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He knelt again, this time keeping a little distance. “Beta… you have to be strong. My princess is brave, remember? You’re stronger than this pain.”
Siyara’s voice cracked.
“No, Papa… I’m not. Every day I pretend. I smile. I talk. I act like everything is fine. But inside, I’m still trapped. My past—it’s a shadow I can’t escape. It’s choking me… haunting me even in my sleep…”
Tears streamed down her face. She suddenly threw herself into his arms, trembling. But this time, she didn’t pull away. And neither did he.
“Please… just make it stop,” she whispered, her voice fading. Exhaustion took over. Her eyes closed. She slipped back into sleep, worn out from the storm inside her.
Her father gently laid her back down and tucked the blanket over her.
The three of them stood there in silence for a moment, then stepped out quietly.
In the hallway, her mother leaned against the wall, tears spilling. “I can’t see her like this anymore. She used to laugh like a bird. Now she’s broken, waking up screaming every night.”
Her father let out a long breath, his fists clenched. “This is more than trauma now. It’s turning into something darker. We can’t just watch. We have to act, Meera.”
“What can we do?” she asked in a broken voice. “Therapy didn’t help. Medicines only made her numb. What else is left?”
Their son, Aryan, who had been listening at the door, stepped forward. “Then we change how we fight this. We find someone who really understands. Someone who sees her not as a patient, but as a wounded soul.”
Meera’s voice cracked. “What if she breaks even more before she heals?”
“She’s already breaking,” Aryan said firmly. “Then we hold her tighter. Even if she thinks she’s alone, we’ll remind her every single day—she’s not.”
Her father nodded, his jaw set. “Whatever it takes. I’ll fight the whole world to bring her back.”
Meera’s eyes lingered on Siyara’s door. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“And what if the person she fears… isn’t a stranger?”
A heavy silence fell.
Because they knew—the nightmares weren’t just dreams. They were memories. Pieces of something real.
Something they still didn’t know.
Or maybe… were too afraid to admit.
- Writer
