Weakly, his eyes fluttered opened to what was seemingly a white ceiling staring back at him. His fingers twitched as he attempted to move his hands to his head, to combat the discomfort and confusion that plagued him in that moment.

The blurred vision clouding his eyesight irked his worry, however, the settling feeling of a pinch to his veins from the IV and the distorted beeping of the monitor just two feet away caused a sense of relief to wash over him.

The memories of the previous night were vague, almost non-existent. Blurred faces and bits and pieces were all that he could recall. As his vision gradually came back to normality, Ayaan tried to decipher all the events that had occurred but was futile in doing so. Dazed was he as the image of the ceiling finally achieved clarity. It was indeed white.

It was then the bright, white light of the hospital room hit his eyes, causing them to squint in an attempt of accommodation. He looked around, taking in the elements of the room while simultaneously searching for the person behind the voice that rung in his ear.

'It's not your fault. It's never the victim's fault.'

He was alone. Alone to make sense of what had happened. Alone to reel with the reality that it was indeed a dark occurrence he had faced and not a terrible nightmare.

The person was gone and all that was staring back at him were the equipments that brought the room together.

"It's good to see that you're awake," voiced the doctor that entered the room clad in his white lab coat and clipboard in hand. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel a bit woozy," he replied, his voice hoarse and soft as his hands moved to his temple."Who brought me here?"

He wanted to know the identity of the person who helped him from such a predicament. He wanted to put a face to the soothing, gentle voice that sung reassurance to him in his most vulnerable state. He needed to know.

"It was a lovely young woman, around your age. She was quite concerned about your wellbeing and health. She was here all night. Never left your side until an hour and a half ago."

Though his statement did nothing to establish a proper description to bring tranquil to his racing mind of the mystery woman, it did fill him with appreciation for the support she exhibited towards him and the care she showed.

No one was there for him but he himself. He was a lone tree with a few, almost deciduous leaves scattered across its few frail branches in the midst of a forest full of bushy, fruitful trees that stood high, strong and tall.

He could only imagine what her actions must of been have like. Her soft hands holding his tightly as if implying an urge to be alright. Reassuring words must have left her mouth and tickled his ears that were barren to such statements. Her gentle fingers must have ran through his hair as she caressed it in a calming-like manner, massaging his head almost.

Ayaan found it difficult to shake the many thoughts that ran rampantly through his mind regarding her and her unknown actions, and lost in the thoughts of being cared for, he caught himself smiling, revealing his dimples.

No one had ever treated him with such consideration and respect the way she apparently did. With that, his smile grew even wider. It seemed silly, especially since she totally stranger.

However, it meant bounds to Ayaan Raichand. It was the closest thing to warmth he had ever felt or experienced in 14 years.

His green eyes shifted to his hand that laid peacefully to his side, the IV pricking his skin bringing him back from his reverie.

"What happened to me?" came his question as the reality of it all settled back into his mind.

"You were drugged. We found Rohypnol in your system hence your wooziness accompanied by other symptoms such as blotchy memory. We pumped your stomach and have kept you under observation since last night. You are free to be discharged at anytime. However, with the finding of Rohypnol, should the police-" Ayaan's stern and immediate refusal told the doctor everything that he needed to know regarding his stance on moving forward with a criminal case.

His eyes turned to face the wall opposite the door that was painted excellently in white. It was blank, void of any imperfections proving to be pristine. "It's fine. I should really pay attention to what I eat at parties full of college kids," he joked, hold back the bile that formed at the back of his throat. "I would like to be discharged now."

"Sure, let me go and get the release form." Ayaan's eyes closed as the clicking of the doctor's shoes and the slight creak of the door indicated his departure. A shaky breath escaped his lips as his tears fought to be shed from the dam which were his eyes.

It was in that moment a sensation creeped up on him like a predator would to their prey. Fingers, soft fingers inched closer, dangerously and ill-intentioned, up his thigh as if to reach for the bulge in his pants. His toes curled in disgust and his hands, with swift movements, began to panically and harshly rub his thigh in an attempt to bring an end to the feeling.

A blurred, indecipherable memory began to plague his mind; incoherent words were poking at his ears, pleading to be understood.

He knew someone had touched him inappropriately. He felt it. He still could feel it. It wasn't going away despite his efforts to. Though he was futile in comprehending the events that he was being reminded of, he knew something had happened.

The pressure in which he applied to rubbing his skin increased, his fingernails slightly scraping his epidermis.

"I just want it to stop," he croaked, his voice almost cracking as finally the floodgates opened and out poured the waters as abundant as the sea.
~~~~
Painted in a brilliant Champagne colour, her room was carefully and elegantly covered in artistic masterpieces and skillfully placed decorative pieces that adorned the walls.

Sitting in the middle of it all, was a gorgeous, queen-sized bed clad in white beige sheets with two lovely placed nightstands to each side, both displaying either framed pictures, a digital clock or a lamp.

Her bedroom was where Inaaya retreated to whenever she needed to gather herself and her thoughts, and that's where she was. Standing in front of her dresser staring keenly at the framed, childhood photo of her and her late best friend, her dark brown, teary eyes filled with a plethora of emotions and bold with an untold story she hid deep within her.

Her head cocked to the side as a frown pulled at her lips, her fingers caressing the image of the young girl who flashed her braced teeth with carefree thrill, putting up her signature peace sign for the picture.

The memory was fresh and vivid in her mind as it came rushing back to her in a haunting manner. She could still hear her hoarse, cracking voice tickling her ears, her tone defeated with a surrender.

'I can't live like this anymore Inu. I can't live with these emotions anymore either. I-I just can't. It's like he's still here touching me. I should have said something when it first happened. It's all my fault. You're my best friend and I love you. I'm sorry.'

'It's never the victim's fault Mahira! What are you about to-'

The line went dead. Silence filled her ears. Ultimately, she, the 14 years old cheerful, bubbly girl Inaaya once called her best friend, died, surrounded by a pool of blood.

A tear traitorously fell from her eyes onto the glass protecting the picture, cascading down the figure of the brown haired girl whom she hugged close.

That day she was frantic. Pleads upon pleads spieled from her in a hope that her friend was unharmed by the actions of her own plight, however, the morning after, with the dark clouds of sky that indicated an arrival of a thunderstorm, the news of her passing made its rounds to her family.

Friendship has never been the same for her.

"Aaya aunty!" came the excited voices of her niece and nephew as they skipped cheerfully into her room, prompting her to swiftly wipe the river raged down her cheeks and gather herself.

"Hi my munchkins." She smiled in an attempt to conceal her emotions, stretching out her hands to receive them in a hug. "What mischief are the both of you up to?"

"Daddy said to tell you that lunch is ready and that you should come downstairs," they responded, clinging onto either of her sides.

"Tell him that I'll be down in just a minute okay."

"Okay but what's wrong? Your eyes are red which means that you were crying."

Their innocent faces clouded her vision as she tried to play it off. "Oh no, I'm fine. I was just rubbing my eyes. Nothing's wrong."

"Good because we don't like when you're sad."

Passing them another smile, Inaaya stared at them with a caring gaze, her hands leaving their embrace and taking their tiny ones into hers.

They were so innocent and naive to the horrid reality of the world they lived in, gutting her knowing that as they get older, the walls surrounding the fairytales they believed in would slowly fade thus allowing the nightmares of the world to seep in.

"Promise me something, the both you," she started, squeezing their hands a bit tighter in an attempt to make them aware of the severity of her statement. "You will tell me, your dad, grandpa and grandma or any one of your safe adults if anyone touches you in a way that you don't like or hurts you or anything of that sort. Promise me!"

Her voice was strong and commanding, hoping that they understood the importance but the smiles in which they answered with made her decipher that they were oblivious to what she meant.

Before she could elaborate, the voice of her brother drew her attention to the door where he stood, leaning against the frame cross armed.

"So what's going on here?" came his question, his eyebrow slightly raised. "I thought I sent the both of you to relay my message, not play around with your aunt."

Avni and Nihar giggled and ran over to their father to correct him. "We did tell her your message big head. Aunty Aaya was just talking to us."

"Big head?" Shreyansh dramatically placed a hand on his chest as if he took offense causing laughter to escape the children's mouths and for them to run off downstairs to their cooling lunches. "When I get my hands on the both of you!"

A chuckle emerged from him as his gaze went back to his younger sister who sat on her bed in silence with a distinctive look in her eyes, one that he wished he could decipher and help her overcome.

"Is everything okay sunshine?" he asked.

"Yeah," she lied, hoping that he would drop the subject as her aching heart was overwhelmed with emotions that she helplessly wanted to push away for her own peace of mind and sanity.

Knowing Shreyansh Singh, it wasn't going to be that easy.

"You're lying sunshine, I can tell." He moved from his position at the door and made his way further into her room. "You know that you can tell me anything."

"I'm fine bhaiya. Nothing's wrong."

Shreyansh's eyes analyzed her as the words left her mouth, knowing that she wasn't being truthful. He reached for her hands and held them firmly in his; the soft and gentle caressing of his thumbs bringing her peace against her skin.

"I know you're hiding something behind those beautiful brown eyes. Something that's eating away at you, something that is bringing you to silence, but I won't push further if you won't open the door for me to enter. Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm always here." Her head lifted to finally meet his eyes as he stood before her, drinking in the warmth of his presence and words. "You know that I'll always be here."

With that, he kissed her forehead and proceeded towards the door before flashing her a smile.

Inaaya was grateful that he didn't dig deeper. The last thing she wanted was to become an emotional mess in front of the person she loved the most.
~~~~
Hours turned into days as he fought the internal turmoil that was plaguing him like a thunderstorm. It was all he could think about. The events a mixtape on a loop within his mind, always prompting the severe ache of his heart.

The blank ceiling was an empty canvas staring back at him as he laid motionless in his bed, making sense of the raging emotions that were bubbling inside of him. His green eyes painted snippets of memories that were slowly coming back to him.

Words. Touch. Feelings. They mocked him, taunted him. Bringing back to remembrance days of the past that he desperately wanted to forget. A person he desperately wanted to forget.

'I know you want this Ayaan. Why do you keep fighting the feelings in your heart? A relationship without sex is dull, void of any enjoyment. Give in. I have given you everything your pathetic little heart has wanted. Do this for me. I'm your girlfriend, come on.' 

She was straddling him, rubbing her hands all over his chest, one inching closer and closer to the buckle of his belt.

It was never understood. The respect for his choice. His words of refusal. Nothing was ever understood by her. It was always about her and never him. No one had ever made anything about him.

It all felt so similar, and he was left feeling a familiar emptiness that he vowed to never to experience again, however, he was futile in his mission to do so.

His chest felt heavy as if a million weights were pull him down and tears crept up at the brim of his eyes, readying to be freed. Ayaan's breathing staggered, the nails of his fingers slightly clawing his chest that was exposed by the two open buttons of his shirt. His lips pressed together, holding back a scream he battled to choke down.

He was drowning. Drowning in a whirlwind of emotions that were pounding on his chest, bottled up and ready to erupt.

The anger was boiling; anger he had for himself for going back to converse with her though he wanted to solidify his statement to her. Shame gutted him as the feeling of her fingers on his thigh resurfaced. Sadness engulfed him into a hug having had his refusal not taken seriously yet again. Loneliness, the strongest of them all, had him wrapped around its finger, chained with lock that had no key.

No one would believe him. No one would take him seriously. He would be a laughing stock as those who have came and gone were before him. Ayaan Raichand never stood a chance to society and especially not to the people around him. He was a man. He would never be believed.

The glimmering green eyes of the despair ridden young man fell on the old family portrait that hung on his wall, showcasing a joyful, youthful boy in the between the loving parents that wanted nothing but the best for him, well, at least one did.

The long, dark haired woman, the one who calls herself his mother but in reality was the farthest from the prestigious title, came into his view. Though she had been nothing but a stranger to him for the last 14 years, and he one to her, there has to be something left within her to save her drowning cub.

Ayaan thought heavily against the idea of revealing the events to her, it was useless and impractical and might even harmful to his sanity. He was more of a hefty luggage she had to lug around than a son her, it was evident to him, even at the tender age of 9 years old.

However, she was still a mother. It was a thought he couldn't shake. He was still nurtured and affectionately cared for within her womb for nine months, that had to have meant something to her.

He was sure there was some, even if it was at least a dimly light room in her heart that could make her remember or bring to realization that he wasn't some shadow in the background an old picture or a forgettable figure that she counters daily within the walls of their own house.

He was her son. The son that she had forgotten and tossed aside like an aging sweater in the corner a closet.

Maybe hearing the predicament he was in would open up her eyes and allow her to see him again, because all he wanted was someone to confide in. Someone to help him calm the ferocious emotions that were eating away at his heart.

He needed a someone before the storm completely destroys him.

In that moment, with a thousand things running through his mind and a slight feeling urging him otherwise, he decided that he would tell her.

After-all, she was his mother.

Hi guys I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember to like, comment and vote.😉

5454tiffany