Third person pov:

All drenched in blood, a woman clad in a brown saree stood before a mirror, her figure reminiscent of a goddess—young and beautiful, yet her eyes were cold and dark, a bloody red that hinted at some malevolent power summoned within her. She gazed at her reflection with a face devoid of emotion, a chilling stillness that enveloped the room. Suddenly, a smile erupted on her dark, flaming red lips—a smile brimming with evil and an unsettling allure. It was a smile that suggested a heinous act had been committed, one that brought her a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Her laughter echoed through the room, wild and unhinged, reminiscent of a woman who had escaped from a mental asylum. She turned her head sharply to the left, and in an instant, her smile vanished. There, lying on the bed, was a body—naked and lifeless, sprawled in a pool of crimson.

The boy's name was "AYUSH," etched in blood across his bare chest. His heart had been ripped from his body, and blood oozed from the gaping wound, pooling around him like a macabre halo.

She turned her head back, inching closer to the mirror until her face was mere inches away from the glass. The evil smile returned, more sinister than before. Slowly, she began to lick her fingers, her crimson red nails glistening with the boy's blood. Each stroke was deliberate, savoring the metallic taste as she indulged in the remnants of his life. She relished the blood, sucking every last drop from her fingers as if it were the most exquisite delicacy, her eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction.

The room was thick with the stench of iron and death, a grotesque reminder of the horror that had unfolded. Shadows danced around her, as if the very walls were witnesses to her depravity, and the air crackled with an unsettling energy. In that moment, she was both predator and prey, a beautiful monster reveling in the chaos she had wrought.

Her pov :



,

"You are a murderer; you killed your six brothers and sisters. You don't deserve to be here. You need to die. The supreme power is going to give you the curse you deserve for committing so many crimes. You are a..."

With that, I opened my eyes in a hurry, gasping for air. My breath quickened with every passing second, and my heart raced as if it were trying to escape my chest. I tried to calm myself, and after three minutes of heavy breathing, I felt like I was trapped in the grip of my worst nightmare. This was happening again—these dreams were haunting me. I feared I would go crazy one day because of this torment. The voice was so eerily familiar...

I don't understand why she always accuses me of murdering my brothers and sisters. I have none at all; I am the only daughter in my family. I have a bua (father's sister) who has no children and lives with us after her husband's death. She has no ties with her in-laws, and I know nothing of the secrets hidden from me by my family. Sometimes, I feel like they are acting strangely, but then I forget everything because they shower me with love and care.

I have my mom, dad, and grandma, who adore me and treat me like a princess. My dad sometimes gets angry at my careless behavior and clumsy nature. My mom is my best friend; she knows me better than I know myself. My grandmother loves and adores me, but she sometimes acts strangely, like when she restricts me from going out during full moon nights. I don’t understand why, but my parents agree with her, as if I were a werewolf or something.

She always makes me do odd things, like eating Tulsi leaves during my periods. I crave chocolate, but she flatly refuses to let me have any. She even forbids me from eating any red fruits during my periods, despite doctors suggesting that they would help increase my iron and blood levels. My grandmother seems utterly insensible.

And then there’s my bua. I’m not sure, but I feel like she has a deep-seated hatred for me. Sometimes, during family arguments, she accuses me of being responsible for her husband’s death. But how could it be my fault? I was just seven years old when he died in a car accident. I still remember that horrible day, etched in my mind like a scar that refuses to heal.

Past scene (7 years back). ~~~~

---

"Please, let me go. Please leave me alone... I won’t tell anyone. I swear, I won't. Please don’t hurt me... don’t touch me... please…"

I cried, my voice a broken whisper as the man in black dragged me by my hair, his fingers digging into my scalp, pulling me through the darkness. Each step he took crushed my hope, his grip tightening, pulling me closer to the unknown.

Why had I been so foolish?

I wouldn't have ended up in this nightmare if I hadn’t tried to help him. If I hadn’t been so naive.

It started so simply. I had been playing in the garden with Nisha, my best friend. We played there every day, laughing and sharing secrets under the sun. But today, she hadn’t come. She had caught a fever and stayed home. Alone, I played with other friends, not thinking much of it. That's when I saw him.

A man, maybe 45 or 50, standing at the edge of the garden, looking lost. He asked anyone nearby if they could help him find his way, but everyone ignored him. I don't know why I felt pity for him, why my heart stirred with some misplaced compassion. I approached him.

"I'll help," I said, offering to guide him to wherever he needed to go. But somewhere along the way, my words had betrayed me. I spoke about my grandmother's strange behavior—about how she had always seemed off, and how he mentioned he was there to meet her granddaughter. That was the mistake.

And now, here I was, being dragged through some dark, cold alleyway that felt like it was swallowing me whole.

I’m not the type of person to believe in ghost stories or supernatural things, but I was terrified. This man—this stranger—who knew nothing of me was dragging me somewhere I didn’t want to go. I wanted to scream, but my voice was caught somewhere deep inside me. His hand was choking my throat, cutting off any sound before it could escape.

I keep on  muttering. "I am like your granddaughter plss leave me " But I was not his granddaughter. I was just a girl who had made the mistake of trusting someone who had no right to my trust.

I fought against him, tried to claw my way out of his grip, but it was useless. The more I pleaded, the more he seemed determined. I tried one more time, pushing through the terror that gripped my chest.

"Please, Grandpa... I beg you, let me go. Look at me—I’m the same age as your granddaughter. I swear, I won’t tell anyone what happened... just let me go..."

Tears streamed down my face, my heart pounding in my ears, but still, he didn’t stop. His eyes were cold, distant. I was nothing but a burden to him. He was so lost in whatever darkness consumed him, I wasn’t a person to him—I was just another object.

But then something shifted. His grip loosened.

He paused, looking at me for the first time, his face shadowed with something I couldn’t quite place. Before he could say anything, a voice—soft but full of malice—whispered through the dark.

"You are a murderer. You’ve killed your six brothers and sisters. You don’t belong here. You must die... the Supreme Power demands it. You are evil..."

The words cut through me like a blade, leaving me frozen in place, unable to move, unable to speak. The darkness around me seemed to press closer, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if the voice was real or just a hallucination of my own fear.

But the pain in my chest told me it was all too real.

The man—this creature—had a past, one full of shadows and blood that I didn’t understand. Maybe he was cursed. Maybe he was beyond saving. But I knew one thing: he wasn’t letting me go.

I had to survive this. I had to.

Past scene over ~~~~

I took a deep breath and tried to forget those lingering memories. I brushed off the negativity from my mind and looked around my surroundings. My eyes roamed, and I felt a wave of happiness wash over me as I realized I was in my own room, painted in soft shades of light pink and creamy white. The structure of my room resembled that of a princess's sanctuary—every girl's dream.

In the center of the room stood my bed, adorned with fluffy pillows and a cozy blanket. Directly in front of it was a desk cluttered with my college stationery and textbooks, a testament to my academic journey. Beside the desk was a showcase with a mirror attached, reflecting the light and adding a touch of elegance. To my left, a huge window opened up to a balcony, offering a breathtaking view of the entire town. The sight was especially magical at night and during sunrise, when the sky painted itself in hues of orange and pink.

On my right was my wardrobe, neatly organized, and beside my bed stood a cute kitty table lamp perched atop a drawer, casting a warm glow. I had designed this room myself; my dad had initially wanted to paint it blue, but as a self-proclaimed girly girl, I convinced my parents to let me create my own space. My father may not be wealthy, but he has always worked hard to provide us with a better life, especially for me, as I am the only daughter in the family.

Suddenly, I jolted awake, glancing at the clock. Oh no! It was already 7 o'clock! Today was the first day of college after our four-week semester break, and here I was, almost late for my third year. I quickly sprang out of bed, tidied up my blankets, and rushed to freshen up for college.

As I stepped out of my room, I was greeted by the comforting sight of my mom preparing my clothes. She always did this when she sensed I might be running late. She knows me better than I know myself. I looked at her, and she returned my gaze with a warm smile, gently urging me to get dressed.

I slipped into a vibrant red kurti paired with blue jeans, accentuated by oxidized jewelry that perfectly complemented my outfit. As I searched for my glasses, my mom chimed in,

“Mehak beta, from now on you will be wearing lenses and not specs. 3rd year hai aur abhi bhi ek ladka bhi nahi pata hai tujhse... Yeh chashma pehnegi toh koi nahi milega, aur main Nani nahi banungi!”

(You are in 3rd year but still you hadn't got a boy yet...if you keep on wearing this specs you will not gone get anyone and I will never gone become grandmother )

My mother, ladies and gentlemen. A walking, talking daily soap. I mean seriously, if there were auditions for a role where a mother is desperate to get her daughter married just to become a grandmother—ta-da!—my mom would get the part without auditioning. She’s dramatic enough to have her own background music.

Like, whose mom literally wants their daughter to have a boyfriend? Moms usually go, "Stay away from boys, focus on studies, boys are a distraction." But not mine. Nope. My mom is on a completely different track.

Seriously… aisi mummy sab ko mile...(Everyone should get a mother like her)

I looked at her with a deadpan expression, my eyes clearly saying, “Mom, what even is this logic?” But she, being the queen of melodrama, only doubled down on the theatrics.

“Kya hai, aisa mat dekha kar mujhe, main tujhse darti nahi hoon... Jo bol rahi hoon woh kar. Aur haan, baal khule chhodna samjhi... aur bindi pehnna mat bhoolna.”

(What is it , don't look at me like that I am not afraid of you..and yeah remember to keep your hair open and wear a bindi on don't forget it )

Of course. Now it’s open hair and a bindi—as if she’s styling me for a desi bridal ad. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she handed me a plate of diyas next.

“Okay, Maata Shri... anything else?” I said, raising my brows. “Aapko toh khush hona chahiye ki koi ladka mujhe bhaav nahi deta. Aapki beti innocent hai. But aap toh... seriously.”

(Ok mama , anything else..you should be happy that no boy is interested in me but instead you are seriously...your daughter is innocent)

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand like some royal empress dismissing my nonsense.

“Chal chal, abhi aur zyada mat bol. Tayyar ho ja. Teri Dadi ko tujhse kuch kaam hai. And here—take this...”

(Ok now don't talk too much and go get ready...and your grandmother has some things to do with you . and take this ...)

She placed yet another red bangle in my hand.

I looked at it. It glinted in the light, shiny and loud like the rest. That made eight. I was already jingling like a fully-decked bride and now this? At this rate, I could start a side hustle as a walking wind chime.

“Ab isse kaunse haath mein pehnna hai, right mein ya left mein?” I asked, turning the bangle over in my palm.

(Now where I have to wear it on my left or right hand)

“Right... As you will be getting twelve bangles... so six on the left and six on the right. For now just wear six on the left and two on the right. Jaise bola hai waisa kar. Don’t ask me anything. Jab waqt aayega, sab samajh aa jaayega. Jo bol rahi hoon woh kar... and remember it’s for your own goodness. Aur haan, I know you wonder why your grandmother acts strange sometimes... but always remember—we love you. And we don’t want to lose you.”

With that, she turned and left

Author's note

Kaise laga yeh wala chapter.

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