The past that never left

Darkness looms over the forest of Egar like death. The forest of Evil. Anyone who enters it is meant to die. But if someone escapes it by luck, he loses his consciousness forever. The fear has survived for many centuries, from many eras. The village of Saal, near the forest, is the living evidence of the horrors that have occurred there. They have heard the screams, they have seen the brutally mutilated bodies.

It stands like a deathly shadow over you. It captures your scream within its walls, it traps your soul in its abyss. No matter where you go, where you run you will never find your way out. This is the deathly maze and your body is the only one that will return without a life.

Some secrets are forever to be remained secrets. If it is revealed, the consequences are more brutal than death. If they had known that they would be alive now. Smiling like they always do, they would have been with me. Protecting me from all the bitterness of the world as they have promised.

They had promised they would stay with me forever.

How could they leave?

Why did they have to suffer?

What secrets are those they were protecting that they were ready to give up their life for it?

Who were those who killed them, like they were nothing but fragile objects?

What is more painful than death itself was what they were being punished with.

A slow torturous death. You feel the pain that is being inflicted on your skin. The rising pain of skins being shredded, bones breaking, but they are not giving you death, they are slowing the process with wounds and wounds until nothing is left of your identity. You have become a living dead.

It's painful but I can hear you breathing, your pulse is fading away, the heartbeats that were my lullaby are slowing down. You were going far away from me. I am calling you, but you are not listening. You can't even see me. The tears that are scarred on my skin, you can't see them. You can't hear my scream. Neither you nor anybody.

"Mama",

"Papa",

"No, no, please don't go, please don't leave me, You promised you were never going to leave me alone. You promised to see my first play. You promised to bake me my favorite cake and dance to my favorite songs. You promised we will go to visit gram and granny in the mountains. I love them, remember. I promised I will always be your good girl. See, there are many promises left to be fulfilled, you can't go, you can't leave."

"No"

"No"

"Nooo"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO"..

I woke up with a jolt.

Sweating, panting, tears on my face, unable to grasp my surroundings.

I closed my eyes, clutched the blanket, and tried to breathe. I feel relaxed, the anxiety reduced. I glanced around the room. It is dark but on the verge of dawn.

I looked towards the window near my bed. A small window opening to the street view of the lower middle locality I reside in. A very thin white flimsy material of a curtain covering it. The lights from the streets through the windows give a dim glow to the room. The small wooden bookshelf to the right bearing the weight of a few books looks worn down. The small old junkyard table beside the shelf was occupied with all my useful college stuff. A small cupboard at the edge of the bed for clothes, the only furnished thing in this clumsy small piece of an apartment.

A croaky sigh released from me realizing I am in my apartment room. Feeling the need to drink water, I got up from the bed and walked to the table.

The ticking of the clock on the table is the only sound that I can hear which soothes me.

I can't sleep anymore. Or say I don't wish to. Dreams are definitely not true. Nightmares are the worst fears of human minds. But when a daunting past becomes a part of your dreams, it becomes a curse. They say the past will heal. Every wound will heal. Is it? Then why from the last fifteen years I am still haunted by the past wounds. Because physical wounds may heal but the pain, the hurt that is inflicted on your heart and mind, they can never heal. I have been living with this pain for the past fifteen years. No therapy and no treatment can heal it.

The heart and mind both seek revenge, the thirst of vengeance deeply circulating in my veins. The blood can calm only with the blood.

The alarm on my phone blared the room, breaking the silence. Another day, another mask to wear, to carry life like everything is fine and normal. Within all these pains, there is something to smile for, the moment I share with my one and only best friend, Ayaan. We are friends, soulmates, family, everything. Remembering his silly jokes brings a smile to my face. With another determination, I went inside the washroom next to my bedroom.to freshen up.

Coming out of my washroom, I looked at myself, there was nothing new. I wear the same kind of outfit. A hand-woven turquoise white sweater top, made in granny's village loom, and black jeans. Adjusting my glasses over my nose, I tied my long black hair to a plain ponytail. Ayaan has told me to do some makeover with myself, because, according to him, I have a figure and look to die for. But I am not interested in wooing anyone or being looked at with love by someone. They don't have any place in my life. Those are not my dreams. Let it be for those who seek love.

I went to my table to pack my bags. After class, I have to go to the cafeteria for my job. My life consists of Ayaan and me, our time at college, and then our job at the cafeteria. Our friend circle includes only two of us and sometimes we hang out with our co-workers. We are not some part of a popular group, we are just nothing. Because we are not even bullied. We are just two people, we are just invisible.

To people, we are just book nerds with a very plain boring life. But beneath those layers lies another person, whose life has already been decided by fate.

I am just a 20-year-old university student majoring in finance and investment courses.

I am a book nerd.

I am a cafe worker.

I am the BFF of Ayaan Cruz.

I am a girl.

I am ANA TAYLOR.