❝ Your monsters are real. Including the ones under your bed and inside the closet. ❞

one || ❛ the devil ❜

Devika

TRUST.

It was all I had; to offer, to build, only to have it destroyed in the most brutal ways possible. Every time I placed it out for someone it would come back in shards too painful to touch. Maybe that is why, when he did the same, it didn't hurt much.

The numb feeling of shock, the constricted pang of pain in the heart and the suffocating lump in the throat. They never came to me.

It was just a simple tumble to my knees, some prickly hot tears and the gut-wrenching urge to throw up. That's it!

All I did was trust him. Probably love him. I'm not sure anymore. If he was the one who refused to keep it safe why must I suffer?

Why? Why? WHY?!

The stinging tears make their way up, again, blurring my vision.

No! Not now. I refuse to cry.

Wiping away my tears, I take a deep breath. My arms tremble, my throat and ears feeling warm.

It's over!

Everything is over. You were the fool, Devika. There is no point in crying now.

I pull out my diary staring at the words I had written days ago: love, promise, marriage, happiness.

How did I expect my happiness to come from someone else? How did I forget that people around me have always broken my trust?

Sighing deeply, I throw the diary back into my bag. My vision blurs, again, and I look up at the ceiling, biting my lips to keep the sobs in.

Wrapping my palms around the cup filled with black tea I take a large sip and burn my tongue.

Don't cry! Don't cry! Don't cry!

I look up, away from the ceiling and towards the sky. For a few moments, I had forgotten to blink. I had forgotten that it was the sky which was dark and not my eyes that were closed.

As far as my eyes could see, it was a curtain of unbroken grey; grey clouds piled over each other covering the vast blue sky, hiding every bit of happiness it held in the eyes of the spectators.

My phone buzzed. It was him.

Declining his call, I pay for my drink and walk away before he could find me here. He knows I will be here. It is my favourite place. But now, no more.

It is too late for him now.

Walking through the glass doors I stop and look up at the sky. The first drop – sharp and cold – lands on my nose. My lips stretch into a small smile.

Allowing the drops of rain to be the first representative of my tears, I walk down the path. Even nature pities me. The drops begin to fall faster, and so do some people who begin to scurry around in search for shelter.

They must hate getting wet, I assume.

Within a few minutes, the sky begins to pour down ruthlessly and the dark curtain of clouds is replaced with a shower of never-ending rain.

The unsheltered begin to run to protect themselves. Some, slow down walking in the rain towards the crowd of heated bodies under a roof.

And me?

I just stand there, right in the middle, watching everything while being drenched to the bone.

I'm drenched from head to toe, probably crying as well, but there isn't anyone who would care.

There isn't anyone who cares; these foul words ring in my ears and I cover my ears trying to shut them out.

Is it my fault that we broke up?

Is it my fault that he cheated on his wife?

Is it my fault that his daughter doesn't call him her superhero anymore?

Is it my fault that his family is broken beyond repairs now?

No. It is not my fault!

He, and he alone, is to be blamed for this mess.

Undisturbed by everyone around me, I walk ahead with my eyes fixed on the ground, taking the path my feet choose.

Tiles. Grey broken tiles with water running through the cracks. A splotch of red remains under the flowing water. Undisturbed. Vandalizing the peaceful grey.

My walk comes to a standstill as I see a tyre in my path and I look up, stumbling over to the ground.

"Do you want to die? Look ahead and walk." A biker shouts, interrupting my thoughts. I stare at him in the eye. He has the same eyes as him.

No! He has his eyes. A mocking light shines in them, and before I know it, I have him by his collar with my hand raised to punch him.

Fuelled by rage, I punch him on the stomach, "You are the one who is driving on the footpath. There are roads for a reason. Idiot!"

Releasing his collar, I walk away, stopping before Anika, my best friend's, apartment and catch my breath.

That was one long walk.

The yellow building stands proudly, against its chipped paint – all the windows are caged by metal bars and the ledges on the higher floors hold the heavy honeycombs, shielding them from the rain.

The employees in the office, which takes up the first three floors, seem undisturbed by the thunder and rain.

Choosing the stairs over the elevator, I take my sweet time climbing up to the fifth floor.

Except for the loud patters of rain against the glass panes, there is no other sound; even the sound of me breathing and my footsteps are defeated by the rain. It's dangerously silent here and yet, there is an uncertain calmness it holds.

On reaching the fifth floor, I lean against the wall, exhausted and out of breath. Catching my breath, I pull open the rectangular grill gate, beyond which, lay Anika's house.

The gate opens with a shrill screech shattering the chilling silence.

There is not a soul on the floor above or below. In fact, except for the employees, everyone else has left the apartment.

Why Anika hasn't left yet is a mystery for me.

Wiping my tears, I plaster a fake smile. A smile no one has been able to see through. Tried to see through.

I ring the bell and the door swings open with a heavy gust of wind escaping from inside, making me shiver. Rubbing the dust from my eyes, I gaze at the room hiding behind her.

A man, smiling with mystery, sits on the couch. Strands of white glisten through his bush of brown hair with a dangerous mirth brewing in his eyes.

Who is he?

"You are completely drenched! Go and have a shower. I will lend you my clothes." Anika instructs, breaking my chain of thoughts.

I obey her.

* * *

"Let me dry your hair," Anika offers, pushing me down on the chair. I stare at my fingers, playing with them in nervousness.

What was with that look in his eyes?
Scary.

And, who is he? Brother? Friend? Relative? Just, who exactly is he?

After a long, painfully long, gap of silence, I ask her, "Who is he?"

"He is Yash, my boyfriend."

"What is he doing here?"

"He lives with me."

He does?

I've been here daily and not once have I seen this living mystery of a man. Strange.

"He is rarely at home because of his work." She says, as though, reading my mind.

"What work?" She doesn't reply.

"Would you ladies love to have a cup of warm soup?" Yash asks, leaning against the frame of the door. His tone is sweet but, in a sickening manner.

"Of course, we would!" Anika smiles at him, doing the last bit of my hair and he disappears into the kitchen.

"Why did you call me here?" I ask, remembering the call she made the previous night.

"My mother's admitted in the hospital, and I need to be there for her. But there's this really important package of mine might arrive at any time and I cannot afford missing it."

"And you want me to receive it for you?"

She nods. "I would have asked Yash, but he's barely home."

I smile. "No worries. I'll take it for you."

"What about my soup?" Yash asks with a sad smile. Despite his sad smile, a dangerous glint sparks in his eyes and I feel a shiver run down my spine. Again.

"I'll have it when I return. I promise!" She starts packing her bag, making a mess of her room.

* * *

Time flies and I stare at the surroundings of the apartment offered to me by the caged balcony.

Every window has metal bars; this building is no less than a cage with surroundings that are just empty pieces of land, abandoned by all children and people of work.

I hear the latch on the door shift — Anika left!

She left. But why did she lock the door? How am I supposed to receive the parcel?

A familiar screech informs me that the grill has been shut. Probably locked as well. I sigh, sitting on the sofa. Did she lie to me?

"Looks like, it's just the two of us now." Yash whispers in an uncanny and cold tone, scaring the life out of me.

He is so silent that I had almost forgotten he was staying with me. Maintaining my distance, I curl up on the sofa.

Why did Anika do this? Why did she lock the door? Why am I here? Can I just leave; such questions fog my mind, leaving me to mindlessly stare at the wall.

Silence falls on the room. Drops of water roll down the windows, their shadows cast on the wall by the diminishing rays of the setting sun.

My eyes travel along the retiring light, stopping on the wall behind him. The rays cast his shadow on the wall and I rub my eyes in surprise.

Am I seeing things?

I just saw horns in his shadow!

No, I must be imagining things; I shake my head. He chuckles. Our eyes meet and something, a voice, screams at me to run away. It yells about a danger I was yet to decode.

The atmosphere of the house dips, making it hard for me to breathe. I feel like I am trapped in the suffocating grasp of death.

My senses feel shaken, and my conscience tells me to tread carefully on this unknown path. Thrill, excitement, anguish and fear; I feel all at once, for reasons unknown.

But, of all things I couldn't understand there was one thing I did know.

He is the devil.

And if I wish to live, I will have to run as soon as possible.