u n s p o k e n
Warning: Insane stuff ahead along with a thousand loopholes. Stupidity, unrealistic stuff, unbelievably fast paced(bad), probably the dumbest thing I've ever written. Don't even ask me why I am posting this.
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Daksha was an ordinary girl, who happened to suffer from a bad case of depression. That's what happens when you have a mother in prison, a father who is dead and to top it all, a cancer inside you that keeps growing each passing day. She always behaved like she didn't give a damn to anything going around her, but that was all a forcibly put up act. Deep inside, she was wilting like a plant without water. And it was not just the cancer that was eating her up, it was her never ending pool of helplessness and emotions.
When she was a child, her fellow students envied her, for her posh life, huge house, luxuries and amazing parents. She never found her lifestyle enviable, or her parents amazing. She didn't want to live in a prison, which was her so-called house. Her life was filled to the brim, with every toy, every gadget, every brand of clothe she could ever imagine.
But that was not what Daksha wished for; all she wanted was to go out and explore what lied behind the walls that surrounded her home. She always felt like being put in a cage, which was locked with a lock that had no key. There was no way she could break it open. Yet, she always put up an incredible act of being happy and content. She was always good at acting, you see.
Her father was a DGP, who was well known throughout the state for his loyalty and dedication to his work. There was no criminal, no thief, no murderer he hadn't caught. He was that brilliant. At least every month, there was a party in her home celebrating a new golden feather in his cap.
Her mother saw it as a chance to dress up and show off. It was an opportunity for reunions, when it came to her dad. And for her? It was only another tough day, with a lot of forced smiles and an act put up with a lot of struggle.
Her father and her mother were the most loveless couple she had ever seen. It was hard for her to even imagine them hug or kiss. They seldom held their hands during parties, but that was the extreme of any physical contact she had ever seen within them.
She never knew what it was like to be pampered. She envied all her friends, who went on picnics with their family. Her dad never had the time, and her mom thought it was pointless. She was always too afraid to mention it. But deep in, all she wanted was to sleep between her parents, get fed by her mother and play chess with her dad. But they were only complicated dreams she was too afraid to see.
Smooth is the last word you would ever use to describe her life. Being famous came with a prize to her dad – death threats, and a life that was ready to be blown up anytime. It was no single day in her house, when the phone wouldn't ring and a husky voice at the other side wouldn't threaten to kill her or kidnap her or kill her mom or kidnap her mom unless her dad lets go of some criminal or the other. It terrified her at the beginning, but then she had no choice, she had to get used to it.
She remembered that day, so well it could have been happening now – the day when her mother killed someone. It was all for her, or that's what her mother believed, until the very end.
As always, another husky voice called, threatened to kill Daksha, and for some weird reason, it freaked her mom out so much, she hid a tiny knife inside her purse and took it with her wherever she went.
Her mother called her father and requested to let go of the murderer, for the sake of Daksha. She was crying in the phone, and it was the first time anyone had ever seen her cry. Dead at night, Daksha was woken up from her sleep by a loud soul-striking scream. She ran to the living room, terrified of what would have happened. There, her mother was, the blood dripping knife tightly held in her hand.
Someone was on the floor, already dead; killed by her mother. "What did you do mom?" she asked, her heart threatening to blast any second.
"He was going to kill you, baby. I killed him instead." There was no guilt on her face. And if there was anything on it, then it was relief and pride.
Daksha turned on the light, while her mother went away to call her dad; the knife still tightly held in her hand. What she saw there was terrifying, her mother didn't kill any criminal after all, she killed their watchman. And that's when Daksha knew what was wrong, what really was wrong - her mother was mentally unstable. She was pretending to be alright, but everything had come outside like a blast.
Daksha kept hugging her mother, hushing her while she kept laughing and saying stuff like, "Poor man, he thought he would take a life and his life got taken." The laughter was so creepy; it made her scared to be in the same room as her mother.
Those were the moments of hell, when she desperately waited for her dad to arrive, and tell her mom what she had done. Her dad behaved exactly the opposite of how she expected him to. He was freaked out, of course. But he didn't console his wife, even question her for a reason. He called the police and had her taken away from Daksha.
It was funny how he didn't try to understand what her mother might have gone through, how unstable she was or what did she really need then. Her father found the idea of having a murderer as his wife so humiliating, that he even filed for a divorce the next day – as if that would make a difference.
He didn't arrange for a decent lawyer, and even the court didn't realize that the crime was committed when she was only semi-conscious. She was sent away to prison for ten years.
When she came over to say goodbye, she had behaved alright. Yet, there was nothing called regret or guilt on her face. She was still proud of what she had done. Daksha tried really really hard not to cry, but when she finally broke down, all her mother said was, "It's alright. I will be back. I love you. And I am sure no one will ever try to kill you anymore."
Daksha was broken to bits and pieces since that day, she became more and more depressed. She even attempted suicide, but all her dad did was take her to a multi specialty hospital and leave her alone. He took her to therapy, which didn't seem to work.
She was blasting inside, and she no more tried to put up the act of being strong. Physically and mentally, weakness was all that she reflected. She never went over to see her mom. She was too afraid to face her or too afraid of her dad, who had most probably considered this as a feather of shame in his golden crown.
Then, things changed. Her father got diagnosed with a lung failure, which gave him hardly any months to live. He had to quit his job, and he was almost always on the bed, and choking on his own blood. That was also the time when he realized the value of his wife. There was no one to take care of him at all. Yes, there was Daksha but she had enough of her own weaknesses and she couldn't cope up with her dad's.
Those were the days when she saw him cry for the first time. He would just say, "Sorry, sorry, sorry," to no one in particular. She knew he was self pitying, for whatever he had been doing, for how much grief he must have caused to his wife and daughter.
She still remembers the morning of his last day. He was crying more and called her over, stammered on almost all the syllables to get this out, "I love you, you know that? I know I know. I have been the worst dad and husband ever. Do me a favour, will you?"
His voice had grown into a whisper, and it required so much of his energy to get the words out, "I know I am going to die, but pass this message onto your mom, okay? Tell her that I love her, with all my heart."
She heaved a deep sigh, like really?
" Tell her that she was the one I was dreaming about when I was breathing for the last time; tell her I am sorry, it took me ages to realize that. I always saw her as a thing and not a person. But now I understand what a strong woman she is. I never got to tell her this, so do it on my part, okay baby? Tell her, I love her." Then he went into a content sleep he never ever woke up from.
Daksha obviously cried, she felt more and more alone and yet more and more determined to fulfill her father's last wish. That was also the time when she realized that all the smoking and drugs had failed her liver for good. She was dying too, good.
She was glad the tumor was going to eat her up, rather than her loneliness. It also meant she had to meet her mom as quickly as possible.
The first time she went to meet her mother, it was kind of ludicrous. Her mother was determined to talk about herself; she kept blabbering stuff about prison, food, weather, friends and didn't give Daksha an opportunity to talk. All she did was hear; because she knew what her mother wanted most was a listener. White strands had appeared in her jet black hair, and there were wrinkles around her face. She had become older, and weaker, and more beautiful, if that can happen.
Daksha kept trying to go back to her mom and tell her the message, tell her that her husband was dead, that her daughter was dying but she never gathered the nerve to do it. At the end of every short meeting, she only pitied herself that she couldn't blurt it out.
That's when she found the blood stained knife – yes, the perfect solution to everything. She thought the shortness of the meetings was the problem. She wanted more time to know her mother, talk every bit of detail to her without interference. And for that, she needed to get into prison as a prisoner.
It was a wonderful coincidence. On a full moon day, she saw someone get out of an apartment with a blood stained knife in his hand. When she screamed, he ran away accidentally dropping the knife. She took it and it didn't take her ages to realize that he had killed her neighbor.
She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife, next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf, glistened. The stains remained even after days. She even had the murder weapon, how freaking amazing to frame herself for a homicide.
She thought all of it through, every bit, extremely well. The coffee revoked her senses and for the first time ever in her life, she loved what she did. You see, she was mentally insane too.
The opportunity was perfect; all she must do was surrender to the police and convince them that she killed him. She was very smart, you know. She was a planner, and she planned every bit well. She eliminated her alibis, found out a motive, and timed it to perfection. She almost felt like she had done it, rather than imagining it. Even if the police did find a loophole, they won't look through because she knew they would rather be satisfied with a surrendered-fake-murderer than an unsurrendered-real-one. That is police, yeah.
She surrendered to the police, they were confused but gave in eventually. The trial took longer than she expected, she was dying to get to prison. There were even bad nights when she had to sleep on floor, eat bad food, but there was this determination which kept her going. The thing is, insanity made her weird. Or was weird a side effect of depression? No one knew.
When she finally got to get to prison, it was..err.. bad. Because as much emotionally as I would like to describe this, I can't, because I do not live inside Daksha's mind to know what she went through. Yet, it was physically, mentally, spiritually, in every way, haunting. Her mother had passed away the day before after leaving her a letter:
Daksha darling,
I love you. I am sorry I couldn't be there for you for the better part of your life. I am sad cause I won't see your husband or get to raise my grandchildren, but I am glad your dad would be around for that. I always thought he would make a great granddad, you know? Can you tell him one thing? Tell him I wanted him to come around when I was here, but it's alright. That I wanted to say 'I love you' to him, but I never got the nerve to. It's funny, but you know what? I was in really really really deep love with him. Tell him okay?
I love you again. Live a great life, miss me.
Take care.
The police explained to her that her mother was always carrying this letter just in case she died midway of something. Daksha cried and cried and cried, for the life she knew she was going to lose very soon as well. She cried, because all she had ever done in her life had gone wrong and there was no time-turner that could take her back and help her set it right.
And most of all, she cried for the words that always remained unspoken, between her dad and her mom, the words that always hung in air, itching to be turned into sounds. She wanted to change everything, cause even at the moments of her death, she pictured the words right above her head, waiting to be spoken.
A/N
Rotten eggs, tomatoes and slippers are wholeheartedly welcome. Because I know how unbelievably stupid is it! Whats written in bold was the initial prompt. And I was just trying to think out of the box.. Lol.!
If you do think it deserves a vote, then do it! :P
Lina!
And thanks a lot for reading, even if you left halfway!