It’s been half an hour or so, I lay in my bed, facing the ceiling with not so symmetric designs and a squeaky fan rotating lifelessly, hypnotizing me, holding me captive in the essence of time. The only sound I’m accustomed to right now is the dying fan and the wall clock tick toking. From the corner of my eye, I can see a cockroach lying dead on my table. I’m assuming, its dead. But am I alive enough to conclude its death? Just to reassure me, I run my fingers down my thigh, the fresh wounds and the blood soaked clothes substantiate my reality. I lay down in my bed with a heavy head, so to say, ‘the aftermath of last night’s party’.
In an unhurried pace, I painstakingly make my way to the window, crossing the hurdles of broken glasses spread across the wooden floor. My room is in shambles and every precautious step retaliates with the cracking sound of the wood beneath my leg; sending shivers down my spine and my heart starts pounding in a relatively higher pace than it should, so much so that I can feel the blood rush in my veins, sending flushing heat waves all across my face. Winning an outrageous battle inside my head against the dilemma of peeping outside the window, I gently slide the curtains with my unsteady hand. I see his ugly stumbling footprints and I follow it to the gate. The curtains tightly clutched in my fist and my eyes squeezed with all the pressure jolting in between my brows, I held my breath and gently let go with a sigh of relief that he’s gone.
Though uninvited, they all made it to the party yesterday, dressed in their best attire. Picking masquerade as a theme was my perception of finding comfort in being amidst the known strangers. Though no mask could conceal his inimical identity. He walked in through the narrow hallway with his battalion and little did I know that I would be the scapegoat. To ease out the unrivaled awkwardness added up with my anxiety, I rushed out of the room, down the hallway, stumbling across the flower vases, maybe missed a step or two and lit a cigarette, smoked it to my heart’s content, till I could feel the burning sensation on my lips.
I have a faint memory from last night when he gently took my hand and invited me for a dance. I had seen that evil grin before and I know how deceiving it has been throughout but then, I fell for it again. Next thing I know, his shadow hovered over me, clutching me so hard, it was impossible for me to breathe. I yelled, looked around for help and all I could see was a sense of satisfaction in the spectator’s eyes. People who have been with me throughout the past two years in close proximity were now anxiously waiting for my downfall. It was so easy for me to give up as I ran out of reasons to keep trying. The muffled voices in the room reduced my ability to think and then he swung a fist on my lower abdomen and I fell flat on my belly. The shattered glasses on the floor fit rightfully in my bare thigh and carved an unpleasant scar for a lifetime. I could taste the blood in my mouth; I still do. I would have died the very next moment if I had given up at that point of time. All my life I tried to fight but my strength and will power deceived me. With my self-esteem, I had knitted a beautiful shawl and kept him warm through the cold chilly nights.
I lay on the ground. My tears stream down my temple and run parallel to the blood oozing out of my thigh. The tinnitus echoed in my head and the images blurred out. I had a flashback of my fond memories and suddenly, I had an urge to live. The stronger my will grew, I could see the crowd slowly retracting back to the corners. One after the other, they went out of my sight and their shadows followed. Once again I could see the bright light which felt like a ray of sunshine creeping into my life paving a way for hope. I remember how I had to give up on hope as depression has been such a possessive boyfriend. I have scars tattooed all over my body after every fight I’ve had with him. So yesterday I put up a show to let him go and decided to take control of my life.
It’s 6 o’ clock in the morning and looks like I have slept over my late night victory as I’m standing here, peeping outside the window, hoping not to see him ever again. He’s gone and so is his friends. I let out a sigh of relief and just when I thought it was over, I look in the mirror and see the reflection of his beloved friend fear, sitting next to me with an evil grin and his gaze fixed on mine.