Her little secret.

One. Two. Three. She pulled the trigger and let the bullet fire out of her revolver mercilessly to hit him right at his chest. She watched him fall to his knees and shout out in pain as the bullet seared through his flesh. Blood was oozing out of his body in a thick fountain as he struggled to keep himself alive. And then she moved her arm to slightly adjust her aim and pulled again. And again.

She was extraordinarily beautiful for her age with large almond shaped eyes and thick lashes to adorn it. She wore elegant clothes and made sure she was always in the best of her looks. When she was a kid, her parents often took her to attend dance classes apart from lessons in swimming and karate after school. She smiled often and everyone loved to have her around all the time which means she had a benevolent list of close friends. She was childish and innocent and was a gentle soul. In spite of her blissful aura and alluring nature, there was something about her that was equally disturbing and poignant. When she felt bored she would just pack her bags and be gone to some new travel destination she found on the world wide web. She preferred traveling alone and was known to keep her travel history to herself .
Ananya had never been happy all her life. She was lonely and miserable and desperate. She never made many friends or felt the need to socialize with people. She knew that her very birth was not something anyone would be proud of anytime. She was never a part of a family. She often spent her days in the farmhouse shut out from the world and figuring out plans to murder him. After she had done that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay, she wouldn’t  mind disappearing even. She often wore many layers of ill-fitting large sized clothing and never combed her hair or put on make up. She would pull her hair to an ugly massive bunch to the mountain of her head and cover her face with a shawl as if to combat the dust and heat. It had been many years now. She wasn’t able to track him down. That infuriated her. She would cut herself on her most private parts to relive the pain he gave her that day. She would never let the pain go away.
That night she was going back from school after her session that lasted a little longer. Her parents would usually sent a car for her, but apparently it was late today. She was always eager to walk her way home. She wanted to cross the roads and watch the streets as she went. She was 10 and the mundane things like the birds and trees and shops and the sight of people were all exciting to her. Her hair was tied up neatly in two long plates and she was  wearing the blue-white uniform.The water bottle clung to her chest, she held her scrap book in her left hand and was wondering deep and hard about what sketches to make for the next day. She was too young to realize that she was being followed or to think of any reason why anyone would follow her. Not until 5 minutes later.

An hour later she lay there on the road wounded, hurt, terrified , shattered and shedding her hottest tears. The trauma had been too much for her to take.  She didn’t know what that meant, she only knew that it hurt so badly that she wanted to die. She didn’t know it had anything to do with her honor or pride but knew it took away something from her that she will never have again. She cried out in pain, more mental than physical. The episode had been traumatic and she has not smiled since. That day,at the age of 10, she died her first death and the same day she swore to herself that she would kill him someday. But she was scared. She wasn’t a cold breed. But somehow he had to die. She shall seek vengeance. Of course, he didn’t anticipate that she would come back for him.
Finally, the day of judgement arrived. Ananya was driving the jeep frantically. It had taken her years to track him down. She was swearing to herself in native Hindi as she moved past monuments and traffic lights through the brisk Mumbai traffic. Each time she stopped at a signal, she slipped her dirty figures into the pocket of her ill- fitting clothes to feel the revolver. Sometime later, she brought her vehicle to an abrupt halt and jumped out of it. She walked straight into the shack and found him meddling with the newspaper on the floor. Apparently, he didn’t recognize her. He asked her who she was to which she only smiled.
One. Two. Three.

Arushi opened her eyes slowly. Her eyelids found it difficult to part ways and her head was aching badly. She couldn’t recognize where she was or why she was here. This has been happening to her quite often. She would wake up in different places, cities , often it was a farmhouse. And when she woke up, she would have no memory of what happened to her in those days. Or how she reached there. She instantly realized that Ananya had taken over her again. Luckily for her, Each time she disappeared ,her friends thought she had gone on one of her trips again. That was a relief though. She didn’t want to scare anyone with the reality. Usually when she came to her senses several days would  have passed since she could last remember. She knew this had everything to do with the incident that happened to her several years ago. Her little secret. She has had bizarre visions of herself wearing ugly shirts and jackets murdering him someday. Sometimes she would push him off a cliff. Sometimes she would race her car into him. At other times, she imagined setting him on fire. Or have him hanged to death. Nothing seemed to suffice. Nothing seemed real until now. After that day, she had never taken the road home. She didn’t tell anyone about it. By the time she understood what that meant, it was too late to tell anyone.
Today, the place seemed different. This place looked dirty and tacky. For one second, she feared that she had been kidnapped during one of these days of hibernation. She didn’t know how many days exactly yet. In the next second, she was both panting desperately and struggling to quickly get up and run to the corner of the room. She was both scared and nauseated at the sight she saw now. Her clothes were ugly and dirty and she held a revolver in her right hand. To her right there was a pool of blood and a man lay dead right at the center. It seemed as though he was shot several times. She bent down to get a closer look at his face. She stood still, her hands shaking, terror racing up her nerves and pain searing through her flesh. He was not someone she would forget.

Published by Anju Dinesh

A writer is how I would love to have myself defined as. Who makes a lot of typos though. Thank God for all these apps that has come to my rescue. Probably not a very good one or successful one at that yet. But someone who did make an effort. Although I finish most of my articles in a haste every single time. And constantly worries if the piece is worth it or not.. Hasn't grown out of the cocoon yet. Hopes to one day write something for myself and not worry of being judged. Because invariably I write about things that makes it easy for the readers to judge to me. Yes I am hopelessly prejudiced about my writing and choice of topics. Goes low on self esteem more than often although I vaguely know that there is something about my writing that can probably strike a chord someday only if I tried a lot harder. Never works too hard. Never works too less. That Never been part of my system. Which means I always play the safe game.I hope to someday break out to that realm of fictitious world where my imagination will stay raw and free, my flow of words be effortless and there would be nothing around me that can stop me or bind me there. Oh Yes! I want to get there.

14 thoughts on “Her little secret.”

  1. Rahul Priyaranjan says:

    Another mind numbing article that depicts that such an incident often leaves you mentally scarred for life. It throws your perfectly normal life upside down.
    But the question is should we seemingly endlessly keep on waiting for justice or start taking matters in our own hands by meting out punishment that we deem appropriate?

  2. Asha Jose says:

    Multiple personality disorder….hmm..good one usual well written..

  3. Anju Dinesh says:

    Well I don’t exactly mean that we should start murdering the assaulters ourselves! But more than often justice is not rightly served. It comes out of my selfish sadist perspective where I let my protagonist shoot him herself. We can only wish that before we resort to any of it, our judiciary and government makes sure they get what they deserve.

  4. Anju Dinesh says:

    I’m flattered re KT.. I think you guys should really help me out on that..

  5. Veni Sudarsan says:

    Ahh! You’ve no idea how much I envy you for your writting skill. LOL. You go girl! Truly talented you are.

  6. Linu. J says:

    Neatly written and thought-provoking article…. Expecting more articles ��
    Love ur style of writing

  7. Anju Dinesh says:

    Thank you so much Shankar, Asha , Linu chechi and Aysha! I hope I can keep upto the expectations.. I’ll definitely try harder to make your reading both interesting and enriching! 🙂

  8. Anju Dinesh says:

    Veni chechi.. Thank you so much.. Really I feel humble and happy. I’ll keep going no matter you for the support 😀

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