There was darkness everywhere in the room still I could see the figures of two boys lying motionless. Dead! They both were shot right in their head. I startled back then evaluated their faces drenched with blood.
Suddenly, I heard a scream of a boy from somewhere. The voice sounded familiar to me. I turned to see.
There was a boy knelt with folding hands, in ripped and dirty clothes. He was shot in his right shoulder. He was bleeding. His dark brown hair was all messed. His bluish eyes filled with tears. I could see the terror in his eyes. I knew him. He was Raman, my classmate and to be more precise, the boy who was in the relationship with Kritika, the girl I loved. I had killed him so many times and in so many different ways in my thoughts.
“Don’t kill me. Please,” he begged, looking at me.
Why was he staring at me in fear? Then, I felt something in my hand. Something, that was not supposed to be in my hand. The feeling was sinister. Before I could see what it was, my hand started trembling. I looked down scared and saw my hand grabbing a gun. I realized I had killed the two boys. I felt like killing him. Now, I wanted to kill him too. I pointed the gun at him.
“You don’t deserve to be hers, Raman,” I shouted. “I loved her and you stole her from me.” kept on pointing the gun at him. “You don’t deserve to live too.” His eyes dilated with fear. I put my finger on the trigger and an ominous sound spread all around the dark room.
It wasn’t him who was shot but me. The person, who committed that crime instead of letting me do it, was standing behind me. I turned to find out and saw a feminine figure, holding and pointing a gun at me. It took me a while to clear my vision then I saw Kritika standing there.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I love Raman, not you. You asshole!” she said, “you can’t kill him because I’m gonna kill you right now.”
“Don’t be ma…” I was going to say ‘mad’ when she shot me and everything went dark.
I was dying there. I saw my mom coming to me.
“Hari, don’t go, don’t go, son” she was crying, “everything gonna be alright. You are fine. Nothing has happened to you.” Something wet dropped onto my eyes. “Wake up, Hari, wake up.”
And suddenly her crying turned into shouting as if I was not dying but I flunked in an English test.
“Wake up, Hari,” she yelled, “how long you gonna sleep?” She sprinkled some water on my face, which helped me to open my dozy eyes. I woke up scared.
“Nightmare?” she asked. “Yup, more or less,” I answered.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
- CLICK HERE TO READ (Part #2)