5 hours earlier
11:17 pm
Melaine limped downstairs supporting herself with a left hand on the wall, her left side had always been good on putting weight, and descended the stairs taking careful steps staggering in the living room of her house. She quivered burning hot and sweating, enduring a shooting pain in her lower back that blinded her rationality and sanity, only if she hadn't been insane one already. Blazing memories of torture, burnt to ashes through the years still left a black soot of remembrance on her mind and scarring pain on a tired body had never proved to be a better combination for not depriving one, ironically, of her working senses.
Melaine pushed herself on the table of kitchen and stared at the bulb, with a her contorted face both in agony and anger, the former more evident in her facial expression. She thought of something, something more entertaining for night's performance, bidding young night its sweet goodnight.
Melaine got down from the table and opened the cabinets. She smirked, contentedly as she pulled out all the glass sets and set them on the table. Melaine looked around for the mop and placed it beside the sink, because she knew that she would be needing it for what she was about to do in the house. She had unlocked the door, left it ajar and went back inside the kitchen. She took a glass in her hand, feeling it weight in her hand and put all the glasses and spare bulbs in the basket, carrying it to the living hall. She looked back at the pendant light bulb in the kitchen, that was less to give touch of decoration and more to her torment of each minute. Hadn't she removed the light already, if a part of her would've have wanted to forget her misery. Strange works of minds that play trickery and befool a person into double thought, of what he knows into what he denies.
Melaine licked her lips, inhaling a deep breath and smashed the glass on the floor, that shattered into pieces with a sound that made her wince.
"That's fast, Melaine", she felt oddly proud and calm with herself, and started smashing bulbs on the floor one by one scattering the shards around the entire place.
"I want control in my life", Melaine threw another glass stepping back from there.
"And I'll show how I control my life", she seethed breaking the last glass on the floor. Melaine looked at her finished work; pieces of glasses on the floor and she clasped her hands in admiration. She retired to her room and tossed her ipod next to her pillow before going in the bathroom. She ran the cold water and splashed it on her face, looking up at her reflection.
"Is...is there someone downstairs? I thought I just heard a voice." She whispered to her reflection panicking, expression that soon replaced by a smirk.
"No...no...no...it can't be Ethan?"
She descended the stairs in a rush and stopped, taking in a deep breath.
.
.
.
"Alan, you did on purpose?" The girl asked her brother in hospital with buds of cotton stuffed in his nose and ear.
"I slipped, Laine I swear!" The boy explained to his sister for umpteenth time but the elder of two siblings didn't have a little trust in his words.
"Don't lie to me. Tell me you fell on purpose?" The girl crossed her arm at her brother who was drawing circles on hospital sheets with his forefinger.
"Because I wanted to feel your pain."
.
.
.
"That's the wrong answer, Alan." Melaine told herself.
"You did that to seek attention." Melaine stepped down and a shriek tore out of her throat when a big shard of glass stuck out of her foot. She fell on her knee, clutching her foot in excruciating pain and looked at the telephone, that was out of her reach from where she had been or rather in her reach given her condition. She slowly dragged herself into the kitchen and reached for the window to slide open the pane.
"Rohan!" She shouted out his name and didn't meet any answer from his opened window. She went to grab a mop, cleaning the pieces of glass aside to make her way to the telephone and picked up the receiver dialing his number. She had memorized his number like a nursery rhyme.
"Melaine?" Rohan answered her call. His voice was sleep laced; thick and heavy that exhilarated the poor girl.
"Rohan...can you come here please?" She spoke looking down at her foot.
"What happened?" He asked and she heard the rustling and creak of bed in the background.
"I don't know what's happening..my foot is injured...", Rohan hanged on her before she could complete her sentence. The front door opened and Melanie shouted before he could rush inside the house.
"STOP!"
Rohan noticed the pieces of glass and bulbs scattered on the floor and he forced his eyes up to look at her who was sitting beside the telephone and holding her bleeding foot.
"Kitchen...window", she told him and he wasted no time running to the back of her house and climbed inside the window. He rushed to her and looked at her foot.
"The fuck is going on?" He squatted in front of her touching her foot.
"It's Ethan."