- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Colour of Agony
It is a dark night. A night without an ounce of light. The sky is empty, as empty as the heart of the girl curled in the corner of the old four poster bed in the dark room. Her weak but beautiful body is trembling, sweat beads adorning her fragile frame, as she kept her eyes tightly closed; in fear of the light or the dark, difficult to decipher. Even the light breeze blowing from the broken wooden window is sending chills down her spine. Days are horrible, but the blood-curling nights make those sun-filled hours feel like the best hours of her present life. At least the sun remains there to inject strength in her worn out veins, to even the layers of shadows; promising not to abandon her among the monsters of the dark.
Yet the air around the white walls is different today. In spite of the haunting silence, it is filled with a tinkling of bells, of hopes, of satisfaction. Unlike the other terrifying nights, today her lips are stretched into a smile, lovely yet frightening, instead of tears in her orbs. Those empty orbs have a mysterious glint in them, as deadly as the last stab of death. She finally had her vengeance. She finally demolished the boy who reduced her perfect life to a newspaper story. She smiled again as the smell of raw blood filled her nostrils, the smell is so overwhelming. She brought her hands near her nose and inhaled again, and smiled again. Just like that day. The day when he left her screaming in agony in a pool of fresh blood. The day when she lost herself. The day she found herself. Memories flooded her mind. Memories of her orthodox parents disowning her for their so-called honour. Of those taunts, humiliations and jokes. Of her road to her dream. Of the significance of today's date. Of every single second of life trapped in these white walls. Of every sleepless night. Her eyes closed in content, she’ll sleep today in peace, after 3 years. She breathed a sigh of relief as she laid down her head on her blood-stained pillow. She is happy. She is content. She is smiling. The last image she saw was of the card that changed her life on today's date 3 years ago.
Next day, the headlines of all the newspapers read:
" The CM's son is found dead in one of the brothels of the area. His body, brutally stabbed and cut at various places, clearly shows the inexperience of the murderer. The family suspects a girl on this brutal murder, who once claimed to be his girlfriend and accused him of rape when she refused to give in. But unfortunately, it can't be verified as the girl died in her sleep yesterday in the premises of the mental hospital where she was kept for three years after he was bailed out innocent of any crime and she rushed towards him with a knife in hand and tears of rage in her eyes. She was claimed to be mentally unstable. The doctors state that the girl was quite fond of the smell of blood, cutting her own flesh for the "fragrance". Most of the time throughout the last three years, she was found muttering "I love you too baby”, “My parents are the best" and dressing up in a red dress with red accessories. A card dated back to today's date of 3 years past was found lying beside the boy's body. It read 'Happy Birthday Love'. "