As the glass touched her lips, the daddy's innocent girl was long gone. Not that the alcohol made her a bitch or intoxication means one loses one's sanity. But that was the moment, 'it' got triggered. A loud shriek was about to come out of her mouth but she smothered her mouth to not let it escape. She couldn't let anyone find out that she was crying. She was too strong to be considered weak, afterall. Standing near the corner window at the rooftop bar, all alone in a crowd.
The constant urges of cutting herself...
The voices in her head screaming at the loudest...
The flashbacks haunting her now and again...
The silence screaming at her, asking her to speak everything up...
And... those urges again...
She felt the blood throbbing in her veins and the alcohol pumping throughout her circulation. She could feel it with every stroke of her beat. The heat she was feeling even in this cold December was due to alcohol or the built-up anger, but whatever it may be, that certainly triggered 'it'.
The girl who considered lying, a crime ; Cheating, a sin ; and hiding the truth a forbidden taboo was nowhere to be seen, now. Someone said it rightly, don't hurt anyone till the point they break down and become someone else. And 'it' was the murder of that innocent girl who selflessly wished for everyone's good.
As more and more alcohol was being gulped down her throat, the birth of a demon spawned bitch was visible in her blood-shot eyes.
She killed him.
She finally killed him.
It was a well planned and executed murder of the guy who thrashed her sanity.
She was only 11 when she lost her Daddy. The one person she loved the most. And her mother married this guy from her office. Her friends bullied her by saying 'Iski mummy ek aur do-do papa'
She might have handled that but what tormented her teenage was that guy. One night, when her mother was intoxicated with weed. He entered her room, with a cigarette.
I felt the door of my room opened and I saw someone entering my room. I switched on the table lamp and saw that it was my mother's husband. I asked him what did he want. He locked the room and literally throttled me. He came over me and pressed my bosoms and bit my neck. He tore away my shirt and with his lit cigarette, he ashed it over my breasts, burning my soft skin. He put his handkerchief in my mouth and tore my shorts and throbbed himself in me.
There was blood everywhere and he pressed me and tormented me. After that, he bondaged me, photographed me and blackmailed me not to tell this to anyone. And this became the routine.
Today, it has been 7 years, 8 months and 14 days since then. But My Vengeance was to avenge him. I killed him because I couldn't die every day anymore. He pleaded for mercy when I shot him, but I didn't feel a little bit of that.
I surrendered myself to Police Commissioner and narrated my whole story to him. But all he said was, "You are free. Live your life as you want, and let this be a secret between you and me. Live the life of freedom, you deserve it!"
But you know what the catch is? This Kill made me the Killer. And after that, I feel the urge to kill everyone, one by one. May be, I just want to see the world burn, just like, Cigarettes were burned over me. May be, that will give the peace to The Killer inside me!
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