Morphine

thirteen part 2 : selfish

I don't know if it's real or not but I hear Milan screaming out my name. It's probably not real. But I open my eyes anyway. My body literally feels empty. Zahid is still laughing, but the knife is nowhere near me anymore. He's still sitting on top of me, but his eyes seem glazed. Or maybe mine are. 

I blink a couple of times, no longer feeling the pain. That's when I notice his face clearly. He's staring at the lake of blood under me and almost magically a tear falls down on my hand. But I don't feel it because everything around me is wet. 

"Meira?!" Milan's voice is much louder this time and the look on Zahid's face confirms that it's not my imagination. 

I can't do this. I can't let myself get away. Not when Milan is so close to me. I use everything I have left in my throat and scream out his name. Zahid snaps out of his reverie and glances at me alarmed. Two gunshots go off outside the door and I wish I had the energy to smile. Zahid slams his hand over my mouth and stares at the door. I stare at him, confused. Why doesn't he just stab be some more? 

I glance around the room and find that the knife is far, far away from us at a corner of the room. Zahid's petrified gaze locks onto my shocked one.

I feel like sighing, but I also feel like I'm dreaming and dying so I am in no position to judge the intentions of his actions and whether they were forced or voluntary. 

The wooden door is kicked open and someone says, "Put your hands up or I will shoot you." Zahid does as he's told and backs away from me not breaking eye contact.

He says, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He looks so vulnerable and I just cannot process this change in his character. And then he says something that scars me. 

"I never wanted to become someone like your father." 

Someone crashes into him. Zahid slams against the wall and Milan punches his face, kicks his abdomen and breaks a few of his bones ruthlessly. 

A couple of police men, loaded with guns and probably bulletproof vests, try to pull Zahid away from Milan, but Milan keeps going back. His face looks horrifying and I close my eyes before the image engraves itself into my brain. 

Bad idea. Because now I can't open them and I'm so afraid. But it feels so good. It feels so free. 

"Meira?" Chase's voice registers inside my head, but there's nothing left that I can do. "Meira, no! Please baby, no." 

Chase's gentle palm hits my cheeks, but there's nothing gentle about the action. So much violence. I cannot take it anymore. 

He lifts my limp body to a sitting position and his voice breaks. "Meira, please.." 

Even though the abyss that I'm falling into is conquering me with its all-encompassing iniquity, I feel his hands being pushed away from my body. Then I feel myself falling. Falling to the floor. Falling into the abyss. And the worst part is that I go in willingly. 

Someone lifts me up into their arms and I imagine this person to be Milan. I could die in his arms. Nothing would be better. Nothing would be more fascinating. Nothing would be more -- 

"Don't be so selfish, Meira, please, don't." 

Selfish. It would be selfish if I died. How can I commit such a grave deed? 

But I am and I will and there's no way to stop it. No word, or action, or person is going to make me feel guilty about it. I am going to go now and I am going to go peacefully. 

* 

Dark and cold. That's my first opinion of heaven. 

"You're fucking kidding me right?" I mutter to myself. 

I was always a believer. In people. In hell and heaven. In God. I know I have absolutely no reason to believe in God, but I still do. I was brought up filled with the idea of a greater power christened as God. I was brought up with the firm credence that I am blessed and I am only alive because of His grace. 

There is nothing graceful or blessing about His house though. It's so dark and so cold. I'm wearing the light blue tee shirt that Milan insisted I wear right before we went to Chase's house so we could go bowling. But now it's a dark shade of maroon and the fabric feels crispy. My dried blood emits no odour even though I can feel the cuts below my rib cage through my ripped shirt. I can't feel my limbs but I will them to take a step forward. And they do. 

My surrounding gives off an aura of nothing. I can feel nothing - no wind, no heat. I can hear nothing - no footsteps, no breathing, not even the rustle of things. What is this place? 

Since there's nowhere to go, I decide to sit down and rest and more importantly, analyse the situation. 

Clearly, I am dead. Due to our fabricated design that heaven is to be bright and beautiful and this place is anything but that I have no other option than to assume that I'm in hell and not heaven. But even hell is not supposed to be like this. As I was told, it was to be fiery and hateful. I feel none of those things. 

So I have to conclude that our ideas of hell and heaven were nothing but self-assuring and spurious. 

Then where am I? 

Maybe I'm still on the way? Maybe I'm in the infamous tunnel. If so, then I expect there to be a light at the end and there seems to be none. 

Maybe I'm on the island of broken things. That's it. That's where I am.

I figure that I just need to fix the broken parts because broken things don't see what they're supposed to, don't function the way they're supposed to and malfunction every so often that their parts crack further and disintegrate. 

But how do I fix the broken parts? I don't have light or any glue. I have nothing to help me. Nobody to help me with the process. 

A sharp pang of realisation courses through me. 

"Except you didn't get away. Ewan was there. You just got lucky the first time." 

"Why did you let me go the first time?"

I'm not really complete until I can save myself. The first time I got away, Bansik helped me and let me get away. When Zahid attacked me in college, Ewan was there to save me. If it weren't for him, I would have probably died faster. 

All those times when I thought I was in control were nothing but fallacious beliefs. I was never in control of my life. Not even for a second. I didn't save myself. I couldn't save myself. 

And that is why I'm broken. I'm too weak. I'm too malleable. To have complete jurisdiction of my life, I need to become intractable. I need to become a fantastic metal that never melts, that can never me hammered into sheets or stretched into wires.

I need to become uncontrollable in order to be in control. 

____

I am so excited to see your reaction to where this story is going to go after this chapter eeck. Listen to the song while reading: Little Do You Know by Alex & Sierra. Again, it only works on the website not the app. 
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-Nymisha