He came, why?
1195 Words
Can I end this world? Who can help me in it?
Turning another PVC of the album I let my tears stream down–it was impossible to not cry when my heart was aching–as I saw a picture of me, Jules and Daddy dearest smeared in creepy sand, the time when we went to pick clams at the Chennai beach.
My phone's screen lit;
??? ??? ???? ???? ?????????
??????? ?? ????????? ???????!!!
- ????(?????? 1)
Like all her previous messages I ignored this one too. This was the fourth time I was seeing this album, with all my lights off–only the sodium yellow beside my bed being classy–my throat chocked, paining for a quenching thirst, I forced my hand to close the album.
My one plus screen was bright again;
?? ??? ??? ????? ?? ?? ???? ???? ???? ???'? ???? ?? ???????? ?? ? ???? ??? ?? ?????? ???? ????????. ?? ???? ???????? ??? ?????????? ???????! ???? ?? ??? ???? ?????
-???? (???? ?????? ??? 1)
Trying to breathe in more air I pulled the tissue box near me. I haven't gone to office after the day when I went to officially confirm the death of. . . Father.
I had no idea how I managed to stand straight on my two feet that day. Having no energy to even lift a spoon with my own fingers I had dressed myself in a black kittens blouse and skirt set–being the ambassador company of the brand Fifeteen was–I threw a dandy set of devil sun glasses–to avoid seeing people pity me, matching with a gangster kerchief tied to my unattended hair; the worst fashion look in the history of living–mainesthal mortality.
My stomach grumbled in complaint, begging for a hunger relief supply but I felt no appetite–sounds very confusing, yes, whenever I went to grab a bite at least for the sake of one more round of tears and tissues, my stomach weirdly felt full.
I got annoyed seeing my phone shine again, who the hell was it this time!
The very precious thing I have realized is I wanted to be alone and away from everyone when I was feeling sad, and it's just been four days of the funeral.
? ?? ?? ?? ???. ???? ?? ?? ???? ????? ?? ???? ????. ??? ???????.
- ???? Jio
I rolled my already strained eyes very hardly, not understanding what was Husna up to–definitely trying to force me into making a decker for my belly.
I stretched my leg caught in an unavoidable cramp from sitting in the same position for the past three hours. Then I put aside, three of the albums–the pink one borrowed from grandma–and raked an empty hand through my hair.
Ouch! My hair roots felt prickling; worse than pine leaves.
Maybe, I think I even need a shower.
Oh right, I am running out of body wash too. Tessa has become too careless with my supplements after giving all the attention to her one-year-old toddler.
Then again, who am I to complain - She is our cook! – not, . . . All in one package is what I should remind myself.
A monstrous hiccup echoed in the room with the wits of my AC being dead for two days. My door knob twisted itself anticlockwise making me suspicious of another Tessa-dinner-supply-entry, but surprisingly a wild scent of roses trapped my nose with a bouncy head of hot pink, curly hair, entering inside – was hot pink a neon colour?
“Look at you all drained and messed up. Get up! Get out of the bed!” I pressed my ear petals because Husna’s sudden human movements were making my head throb more tightly.
My muscles strained and hurt when she grabbed my hand to pull me out from my sheets. Pushing me to stand in front of the mirror she went inside my walk-in closet; which thankfully still had a few sets of emergency clothes as I have shifted all my things from here to my flat.
I watched a mirage of myself; blotched eyes, shrunken nose and powdered lips stared back at me – aimless and lifeless.
“This should do. Pull your hair into a messy pony, quickly . . wait.” I didn’t bother listening to any of her instructions as she slid a comforter jacket from my winter Gucci collection set, “Don’t tell me you’ve run out of fashion masks.”
I didn’t have the energy to reply her nor the interest to know what she was doing with me–in a span of few seconds Husna has sprayed an herbal moisturiser on my face, making it stickier that she didn’t know, and bathed me in my Jo Malone London perfume, very much in contrast to hers.
Then it suddenly occurred me–is the media waiting outside to record any further statements in the investigation?
“All set to go. Where are your trainers?” She said going back to my closet to get them. “What is going on Huss?”
“Nothing much. Just a stroll in the night!” I squinted my eyes when the light in the room blinked twice before finally switching on perfectly. Argh! My head hurts even more.
Without further questions and complications from both the parties my shoes were on and I had a black celebrity mask adhering my face and we were already one floor down from my penthouse room of this villa.
My shoes contrasted the sound of Husna’s heels as we descendent; me with zero calories to even move and Husna with merry melodies of energy–maybe because she still had a father and mine was gone.
“Are you not having office tomorrow?” I asked, my baby attempt to start a talk to talk her out of this. “You are holed up so you may not know but tomorrow is the universal fun day–freaking Sunday!”
I nodded my head to no one. “Hello, aunty! Give me a minute and I will come back and help you with gossip fillings.”
I found my already confounded brain more inquisitive on her statement and then I saw it. Of course, the thing that I was hating my mother for acting so normal–she was back to her life as if nothing has changed and Father will be walking home any minute every night, like always–but no, my father was murdered and any dolphin intelligence cannot bring him back.
I gave her a pointy stare and then my eyes travelled to the man sitting on the edge of the L bridge of our parlour sofa–old brown eyes, a bit of more muscles added to his arms and the same face; those playful eyes, beauty chiselled nose and the patent quirky smirk.
“Hello Ashtrick.” He greeted me in his same old Kriag confident voice which could compel an army to any war.
Why was Kriag here?
- Writer
