D - Day:

Upon reaching home, I see that my brother was getting in the car yelling a goodbye to my dad.

Wasn't he sick?

"Dad where is Derek going? Isn't he sick?" I ask going in.

"Well, he decided to go out to get some fresh air. He needs it," my dad says from the living room. He was sitting on the couch watching the television. Some news channel was going on and on about the Indo-China war.

"And he didn't help me with the work in the garden. I did it all alone! He could have got some fresh air there," I protest.

"He is sick!" my dad replies in a stern voice, now looking directly at me.

I walk away without replying to him. There was no point arguing with him.

He never understands me and is always like this. He loves his dear son so much. I wonder what is it that he has and I don't. Except a penis!

I go to the kitchen to quench my thirst and take a glass from the drawer below. After filling it, I try to get on the ridiculously tall barstool chair.

Unfortunately, my elbow hits the counter and the glass falls shattering into a million pieces.

"Shit! I'm so dead," I whisper as I bend down to pick it up.

"What was that?" yells my dad as he sprints into the kitchen.

"Sorry, I--I.." I whimper softly, picking up those pieces. I look up and meet his eyes. They were filled with rage and I already knew what was coming next.

"You idiot. That was such an expensive glass. You dumb moran!" he yells as he approaches me.

"I'm so- sorry. It was an ac-accident," I say getting up and taking a step back. In my hurry, I forget that the water also spilled and I slip, falling down. Instinctively, I try to grab something for support, but fail.

"Arrghhh," I yell out in pain.

I recede as I watch him approach me and my back hits the island edge.

I watch as he raises his hand to hit me. I turn away in reflex and it lands on my side. I cower away hiding my face - begging him, pleading him to stop hitting me.

He hits me with the ladle from the island and chides me. I sob as a string of abuses and blows hit me. I turn away, trying to escape when he lands another blow on my back. At this point, I feel like my back is already broken.

"You good for nothing idiot," he reprimands, landing one final blow on my cheek this time.

"Clear this up now!" he says in a chastising manner before leaving me all alone.

I wipe my face on my shirt sleeve and slowly pick up the glass pieces laying on the floor. My tear-filled eyes turn a little blurry and my nose a little wet. I toss the pieces in the bin after cleaning the water and head up.

Dragging myself up the stairs, I bang the door shut.

Why is my life so bad? What did I do to deserve this?

I clench my fists and feel my nails digging in and my skin hurting. That feeling of unending helplessness and weakness filled me.

I slip down, lost in my thoughts, wondering what life has planned for me.

I take out my diary entering everything I feel from the fact that I hate my life to how much I wish I could change things.

"Dear diary,

You and I have an inseparable bond. We meet again- very quickly, might as well make you my best friend," I start.

"Why did my mom have to die, why couldn't it be me instead of her?

I miss you, mom! I miss you.

I write about the incidents of today and how much I want to leave this place.

See ya soon diary, I'm sure I will!" I write in the end.

"Vanessa, I'm going out. Might come in late. Prepare dinner by then," my dad says and I hear a door bang downstairs.

I am alone, yet it feels like I'm in my comfort zone and at peace. I usually am surrounded, but still alone. I don't feel lonely like most would, in fact, this brings about a certain calmness that I love.

I was lost in my world wondering how things would be if mom was here and I could feel my eyes swell up. Evening passes by in a blur. The bedside clock had it's big hand at seven and the small one at six, suggesting that it sure was late in the evening.

"Oh no!" I say getting up quickly from my bed. Not wanting to face the wrath of my dad, I go down to make dinner.

I make mac and cheese with chicken. I remember my mom making this for me in the weekends and how we would sit in the living room watching movies.

It smells heavenly and I hope my dad has no complaints with it, like he usually does.

Once done, I sit in the balcony on a bamboo chair with my legs stretched on the wooden table, enjoying dinner. We have a glass fence with wooden flooring. Our home was placed a little on the quieter side of town and in the by lanes. The view from my balcony was mostly of the alleyways down and I could see woman walking home and little kids playing football.

I smile when I see a kid, struggling to kick a ball. He seemed to be missing continuously, but he never stopped trying. I watch as he finally kicks it, but ends up tumbling down. His friends laugh at him but one of them comes forward to pick him up. They all soon help him up and carry him on their shoulders, while cheering him. They soon disappear around the corner, but their laughter still rings in the air around.

Oh, how wonderful is life with friends!

The soft streetlights hit the roads and I could also see the distant city lights. I wonder what kids my age are doing on a weekend. What is my brother doing?

I laugh at the irony that life stages and slowly have my dinner. The moonlight shines beautifully and the cool breeze feels so nice on my face which is now raw with pain.

After dinner, I go down to grab some water, and see an empty house. The food untouched and no voices to be heard.

Cursing my broken phone for the hundredth time today, I make my way to the main road, where there is a telephone kiosk. It was past dinner time, yet the streets were full of people going around enjoying the weekend and everyone happy and content with their lives.

The weather was beautiful - a slight whisper of a breeze bringing in fresh air, a little cloudy with a chance of slight rain.

Sticking to the footpath, I stroll around and enjoy the weather.

I reach the local telephone booth, which is in the corner off the street. This is one of the few left in town, which are still in use. The red booth which has glass on four sides, looked exactly like the ones they show in old movies.

It was pretty deserted by the kiosk, except for those who took photos for their Instagram, so I quickly connect a call to my dad.

"Hey, dad," I say, as soon as he picks up the phone.

"Yes!" he answers in a gruff voice.

"You didn't come home yet. Was just wondering where were you?" I ask as politely as I can.

"I have a meeting and left town some time back. Will be home in a day or two. I left a message didn't you get it?" he asks calmly. Which definitely doesn't sound like him.

"Um. My phone is switched off so I couldn't check it, ," I lie through gritted teeth.

"Okay. Where is your brother?" he asks.

Damn! I don't know where is he.

"He is at home, sleeping," I lie, yet again.

"Take care of him. He isn't well."

"Oka--"

"Boarding has started, I've got to go. Bye!" he says hanging up the call.

Well, that wasn't so bad. Now all I've got to do is find out where is Derek! Hopefully, he isn't in trouble!

As I was walking by, I see a mob of people by the internet cafe. I try to ignore them and kept walking when I hear them yell 'Derek!'

Damn you Derek!

I quickly retrace my steps and go to the cafe. I see kids fighting, but I don't spot my brother anywhere.

I decide to have a little fun and head back home. I was preparing snacks,  for my movie night when I hear a series of knocks on our front door.

"Coming!" I yell, turning the stove off.

I was greeted with two police officers standing on our front porch. One of them was tall, dark and has a medium build, while the other was average height with a great build.

"Yes?" I ask, but it turns out like a question.

"Is this Derek Ryder's house?" the tall one questions.

"Yes," I answer hesitantly.

"I need you to come down to the station with us!" he says, walking down the stairs.

What now!

Author's Note:

I hope you like this chapter, if you did please vote for it and comment your opinions below.

Feedback and suggestions are welcome :)

Until the next chapter.

Lots of love,
~ Vaishnavi.