I had to give her a taste of her own medicine. I pressed my thumb finger deep into her neck dent. I sucked at anatomy but according to my knowledge, that had to be Jugular notch the dip seen right at the midline of our neck. I was sure this wouldn't kill her, instead inflict fear of death and aching pain that would loosen her clasp and buy me time to flee from here.

As expected, her grip loosened and, she let go of me, and we lay there choking in, on our own breath, grasping for some fresh air. As she kept coughing, her drool trickled down from her mouth and was nearly close to the floor. I must add that wasn't a scene I would love to watch.

I felt queasy I could hardly move my neck, every cell hurt. Still,

I sprang up from the floor to run, as I placed a few steps forward, she held me by my foot and once again I fell flat on the ground. My chin went straight to the floor and, the lower jaw bone hit so hard I could hear a crackle. I yelled in utmost pain while she laughed.

"Serves you right." she miffed.

I rolled over and tried to sit back-up, brushing my fingers against my chin.

"You have to listen to me, please Aanya" I begged her and, in return she threw the tray right at my face. The edge of the tray precisely hit my nose it rained ketchup. Like a broken toy I stayed still, you can never break something that's already broken a million times. My body was physically dead.

"You killed my sister nut-case, you murderer, if you wanted money, you could have asked for it. You are a cunning evil spirit. You hated her all along when all she did was love you, you ignored her and, now you killed her all for the sake of money. I want you dead." Aanya's vicious words spread like venom inside my head they made me feel vulnerable, guilty of accusation for a crime I haven't committed.

Aanya rose from the floor. She was a hunter marvellously pleased the prey has fallen into her net, all she had to do was shoot, and it would stop living. Bright red blood trickled from my lips, an artistic artwork formed on the floor. I clung onto the foot of the bed as support to raise, my knees wiggled from sheer pain. I had to run yet I could barely take a step forward.

She grabbed a knife that lay on the bedside table, with fiery eyes and devilish grin, her hair all messed up like a lion's mane, she reminded me of the wolverine.

I looked around me for a way to bolt away. She hustled towards me with hand raised up in motion and aimed for my chest. I promptly scurried towards the left when she was an inch away from me and sat on the bed. She rushed towards me in such high velocity she couldn't stop her inertia. I stretched my right leg, her feet tripped over mine and she tottered hit the side of the dressing table and crashed against the floor.

Her hands were firm in holding the knife. I stood up and, pressed my foot on one of her legs. She hadn't stirred or yelped. I stepped back and advanced forward there wasn't any external injury; she had lost consciousness due to the sudden impact, which is a wondrous thing.

For the first time that day, I felt pleased, I wanted to do a little tap - dance, have a strong cup of tea and relish my victory, and it's funny how seeing my friend unconscious delighted me.

Am I actually an evil person? A murderer, everyone has framed me to be?

I paced towards one of her cupboards, stacks of clothes occupied the entire closet, and I closed the first wardrobe. I opened the next she had a few handbags from various brands like Caprese and Lino Perro, I picked an oversized peach tote bag that resembled an upside-down cowboy hat. I rambled to the corner of the room to my sweatshirt, cash and my phone. Toppled the money into my handbag, and pushed my phone into my back pocket.

I dallied out of her room. She usually places all her keys inside a bowl on her dining table, I grabbed the key that had a bedroom sticker stuck on it and set her phone next to her in case she gained conscious and has to call someone for help, I locked her up from the outside.

The clock hands pointed 8.05, the longer I stayed here, higher were the chances of me getting caught. The well-built guy would be desperate to lay his hands on me.