The Untold Story
This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or person, living or dead is entirely coincidental. You have been forewarned.
It was just 3am, I probed into the farthest reaches of my mind but sleep was definitely far away. I picked up phone and flicked it open. There were no new notification, no missed calls and no unread messages. I started playing with the phone. Wondering whether I should or shouldn’t call Varsha. She would generally be up this time taking to her mom. It was an everyday affair for me calling her up at this time. Today however I felt a tingling in my heart, it wasn’t very alarming but it was there. I kept playing with the phone for five more minutes until I gathered up enough courage to finally press the call button. The call connected and started ringing. After two rings the service sent back a busy tone. I started getting anxious. I called again. The service sent back the same busy tone after two rings. I tried five more times before finally calling up on her home number. It kept ringing, 2 rings, 3 rings, 4 rings, finally someone picked up the phone. A voice sounded and it was unmistakably her mom’s. I replied in a very quiet tone ‘Hello! Can I talk to Varsha?‘ ‘She’s been waiting for your call for a long time’ replied her mom. ‘I don’t know what is wrong with her. She’s refusing to talk to anyone.‘ My heart skipped a beat listening to what she had to say. ‘I tried calling her. But it kept getting disconnected.‘ I said to her. ‘Wait I’m coming over.‘
I gathered up my phone and wallet. Walked down the stairs to the car and drove out. I left a message on my Dad’s cell saying that a friend needed my help and I’d be back by morning. I drove my car at a breakneck speed, ignoring ever speed breaker and every traffic signal on my way. My heart and mind were on fire. Nothing mattered more than that. I finally reached her home at around 3:30. I ran up the stairs and knocked on her door. Her mom opened the door silently and I headed to her room. She was sitting in one corner of her bed wrapped in a blanket. Her face buried in her hands. It was evident that she had been crying. I took off my shoes and went and sat down beside her. I put my hand on her shoulder and ran my fingers through her hair. She looked at me, and I stared into her eyes. There was something wrong, something gravely wrong. I could feel it, her eyes spoke of it too. And I had rarely seen anything but happiness in them. I pulled her to me and hugged her. And then I asked ‘What’s wrong?’ She stared at me in a dazed state for over two minutes. She look in her eyes very plainly said ‘I thought you’d understand.’ I shied away from her eyes. I felt guilty for not understanding her. I tried to look at her again. But this time she looked away. I held her hand in mine and asked again, ‘What happened?’
She slowly let go off the blanket that she so tightly clutched before. The dress she wore was torn in many places in the most brutal ways. And it was entirely ripped from below her waist. There were gashes all around her figure. I took her by the hand and made her stand. It was clear that she had been abused to the very highest degree. She couldn’t even stand properly and collapsed into my arms. I took her gently and laid her down on the bed. There was a fire burning inside me, a fire that no amount of water could quench. I asked her gently ‘Who did this?’
She told me the entire story, how one of her classmates asked her to help him with his project. She agreed and went to his house. Once she entered she realized that no one else was there. He told her nothing would happen but she was still scared. They sat in the living room and worked on their assignments. Then when that guy went up to get a glass of water she tried to call me, but my phone was off. Abhay her classmate returned with a glass of champagne and offered it to her. She refused and he began to pressurize her. Finally she got up and started walking towards the door. He pulled her back and kissed her on her lips without her consent. She screamed but he covered her mouth with his hands and dragged her to her room. And she stopped. She could say no more. But I understood, I realized what had happened.
I asked her where he lived. She kept begging me not to do anything, but it had already gone too far, I had made up my mind. I was going to report him straight away to the police. I asked her once more for the address and she blurted out. I kept repeating the address to myself, ‘Golf Links’. I went to the car and set out towards the Police station. But I stopped mid-way, he lived in Golf Links, that meant he was loaded, he would get away from the police in no time. I turned my car around and headed for the Golf Links address. I found his house but parked my car at quite a distance. I opened the trunk and took out a crowbar. With the weapon in my hand I walked to his house. My hands shook as I rung the bell. The door opened and a servant spoke to me. I asked for Abhay. He told me to wait in the lobby. I told him that I was in a hurry and that he better fetch him quick. The servant closed the door and ran to call Abhay. The door opened the second time and a guys face peeped out. I asked quietly ‘Abhay?’ Yes came the reply and I hit him straight on his head with the crowbar. He let out a shriek, but that did not stop me. I kept hitting until his head smashed open. His servants came down and saw me with blood all over my body and whatever was left of Abhay lying down in front of me. They ran towards me and tackled me to the ground. They kept hitting me but the pain was beyond me now, the pleasure of revenge took hold of every feeling that I could ever feel. I heard the police sirens as I passed out. But I had done what I set out to do, I had avenged my blood, I had avenged my sister.