Forbidden Foe. Check!

“I’m often difficult to love. I go through dark periods like the moon and I hide from myself. But I promise I will kiss your wounds when they’re hurting. Even if they’re in your soul, I can find them with the light in my fingertips. I will lead you to the river so you can remember how beautiful it feels to be moved by something that is out of your control. And when our dark periods match, we can breathe with the grass and look at the night sky. The stars will remind us of the beauty in our struggles and we won’t feel lost anymore.”

— Emery Allen

 ***

Daemon [3:15am, Friday]

Numbing the pain will only make it worse when you see it. It is a fixture.

He had spoken less that night. He perhaps did not want to scare them. Neither could he lie, he had promised as a kid not to. The strain was that he couldn't get himself to voice the truth. It was plain harsh.

Harsh. He wondered. Was that the word to describe it really? Maybe he conceived it too gravely.

And then the phone rang. For the first time since the last call the previous night.

“Hello?”

“Did you tell them yet?” the voice on the other end inquired.

“No.”  He answered uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to another as he did.

“Why not? It’s been long.” the voice demanded.

“I don’t wish to. I need time. What’s the hurry?” he answered twice, once in his head and the other in to mind.

“Hurry? Keeping a track of time, aren't we?” The voice gained a treacherous tone.

“Hmm.”

“I need an answer. When will you do it?” the voice was grave, pressing for an answer.

“Tomorrow. After work.” He answered.

And then he heard no more from the other end but the end call tone.

Kyra [8:40pm, Thursday]

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. It is a fixture.

“One double shot Espresso, please.”  She ordered at the counter and handed over the exact change. Then walked over to her usual corner, a glass wall away from the stark lights and kept her laptop sleeve and bag aside.

Just as she had made herself comfortable in the low seating, the small fellow who served her walked in with her coffee.

“Thanks mate!” she smiled at him and took her cup from him.

She looked out at the street still as crowded as it was every morning when she left for work. People walking past in tearing hurry to get to their destination. Vehicles honking one after the other. It all looked so different from this side of the wall. The glass wall was almost like a barrier, bifurcating the two worlds from each other. She happened to have experienced both.

She took a deep sip as she lounged into her seat. It was therapeutic. This was her usual relaxation process. And it was all good except for the fact that everyone who knew her well were well aware of this routine. It was something she would've preferred to keep hidden. This was her time and she liked to keep it so.

Alas. Not all wishes came true. Neither am can one be sure if all wishes are heard in the first place itself. And she was no exception.

“Ma’am?” The small fellow stood at a distance addressing her.

“Yes, tell me?”

Without answering he simply handed over a note to her. A simple double folded paper.

She took it from him as he hurried out of sight and felt the ridges from pressed handwriting at the back of the paper.

She spread the note on the wooden table next to her and kept the coffee cup next to it as she started reading.

Hi.

I know you’d be here in a couple of hours from now. Go easy on the Espresso; it will keep you awake again. Sleep, Kyra. Everything else can wait. Overhauling is only a form of escaping.

I’ll be out by the time you read this. I’ll be safe. So here, I’ve a few pointers.

Wait. Go figure out them on your own.

Take care. Keep your cool.

She stared at the paper for the next few minutes in a failed attempt to read between the lines and try to figure out something that made sense. But no. She could derive no sense from it and that made her edgy again. Restless. She folded the paper back into half its size, gulped down the rest of the Espresso in a manner to claim her peace again but the action didn’t yield even fleeting mercy so she picked up her bags and walked out of the hideout towards 4^th Avenue in a half agitated sprint.

Daemon [5:50am Friday]

He had been pacing along the periphery of the bed for over two hours now. Sleep was nowhere in sight and neither was the answer to the questions that flooded his mind. And the one that he had addressed couldn't be brought to light. He didn't want to be impulsive. He was ready to pay the fine for being complacent this time. This wasn't a matter to be hasty about.  Sadly, time wasn't on his side.

 Sadly he would never get to be where he wished to be. Sadly this had always been the case.

He walked to the table at the other end of the room where he took a sheet of paper and let himself spill all that he couldn't voice. It seemed a lot easier to him. He wouldn't have to bother about in-person dynamics. Or so he liked to believe. Or so he now conveniently believed.

Kyra [10:02pm, Thursday]

She came out of the elevator at the 11^th storey and hurried across the halfway to the open facade of her apartment. She quickly rummaged into her bags for the keys to the front door and unlocked it hastily. She took her time to dump things in their place only to be welcomed by familiar emptiness of her haven. It made her more restless. Every passing moment felt heavy from a burden that she neither could place nor comprehend. She sat on the stool adjacent to the kitchen shelf and grabbed a bottle of water for herself. In less than a minute, she had drowned a liter of it.

A thought circumferenced her mind then, a fleeting yet one full of provocation. And for now it answered many questions in her mind, solving the little rut of puzzles one at a time, fitting perfectly. And that is when the room went dark and she hurt her elbow against the shelf.

Daemon[6:07am,Friday]

He finished his sentence with a full stop, a punctuation mark he regarded as of great relevance and symbolism alike. He had closed yet another chapter, and this was his one and only.

He sat on the floor with a sudden heaviness in his knees, his conscious mind was awake and aware. It had been days to such an occurrence, today it came with all its wrath. Kyra did not exist. There wasn't one like her(quite so) and then there was no Kyra. His muse, his beloved, his world in four alphabets strung together with abundant meaning not only was non-existent but persistently called a figment of his imagination. Terrible. Terrible. His existence itself could be one, a mere figment of someone else’s mind because in his own it was never ground, only fluid where he could have never found anchorage if it wasn't for her – like gravity she held every bit of him to something concrete where he could walk, run and fly. To know that all that was merely fiction was no less than a dagger to his heart. And his mind. Painful,it was painful to his mind. It lasted only a few minutes, the agony of bitter reality and of real-ness until his head hit the floor and for one last time he heard that familiar voice-calm and comforting like none could ever be. She had him in her arms, stroking his hair in an instant of comfort that was infinite and here, ultimate.

   ***

***Brethen Asylum and Rehabilitation Centre

      Block-A,Sheol  Street-2

      Nemunhan

Patient Name : Daemon Calliagros

Date of Birth : 9 November 1967

Identification mark : Dimple on right cheek

Date of Demise : 1 October 1999

Statement of Demise : Intracerebral hemorrhage

 Diagnosed with Schizophrenia at the age of 19. Rehabilitated at the age of 21,repeated attempts of isolation and derangement.***