𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖗 𝕭𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 [Ongoing]

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜰɪᴠᴇ

Flames burst through me, the sheer pain and horror bursting open my eyes. I bolt up to find myself on my warm soft bed, sweating profusely, my chest constricting painfully. I heave out a breath full of relief, relieved to find myself safe and sound. I can't remember anything I saw except the lingering feeling that insinuates something terrible has happened.

I lazily make my way to the wet glass panes. Removing the curtains, I look onto the dull grey mono tonal scene. Gushes of streaming water floods the streets making the asphalt street turn a darker charcoal colour and the grass on either side a brownish sludge, as the mud unearth it loosens. The only vibrancy comes from the bent over palm tree, its branches brushing against the street. Some of the wires are torn, dangling from the towers.

Evidence from last night's storm. The man from last night crosses my mind once, but I shake it away. Must have been some man taking shelter from the storm.

I rest my head against the cool glass panes, my heated forehead slightly cooling down. The cool sensation helps me calm down, but I can't seem to forego the uncanny feeling that comes with the dream.

The bedside clock reads 6:00am. Still early.

Maybe the restless feeling has something to do with the rate at which things are progressing. It has been a week or so only since that painful memory. Last thing I want to suffer from now is PTSD.

Shaking my head once as if to dispel the everlasting thoughts, I head into the shower. Twenty minutes later I am done taking a shower. My hair feels nice and soft, thanks to the shampoo and conditioner he provided me with. For the past few days my hair had been greasy tied into knots, and combing through it barely made it presentable. I was thankful for the dupatta wrapped around my hair, thus hiding my tangled mess in the past days.

Having done with drying it as much as a towel allows, I comb my semi wet hair pulling it into a loose ponytail, I take the dupatta deciding to put in on later, as I make my way downstairs.

To my surprise I find the television switched on today. I can't see the expression on his face as he faces the television screen. A woman sits on the other side, adorning a blue colour niqab but rants on in fluent English. I catch a few words, ' Indian authorities' , ' Pakistan', 'injured' and 'deceased' before he abruptly switches off the television.

His sudden action and the few words draws my attention but I pretend to have heard nothing. It's only when I approach the television, I snatch the remote out of his hands. Having not anticipated my sudden movement relents. I switch it back on.

It's her next few words that draw the breath out of me.

'Amritsar Howrah Express that was to leave Amritsar Station at 11:00 pm was blown into flames killing 392 people on the train and 25 injured severely. Indian authorities point at Pakistan for planning this terror attack with notorious terrorist Abdul Gaffar. A bag full of RDX was also found in Gate No 5 of Amritsar Station.