ANDREW POV
I looked at his cold face, holding his one hand tightly stretching him against the mirror in the bathroom, as he rattled. The thrill of watching his eyes popping out as harder it got to breathe for him was sensational. I gradually increased the pressure on his throat, enjoying the exceptional fear turn into withered peace. I softened the pressure as he was quiet and compliant. I wholeheartedly hugged and stabbed him with a knife. He growled softly. I pierced his stomach again putting him down on the floor and stared at Alicia.
Her dark face soaked in sweat and she probably peed a little bit. I liked that she was afraid. I gave her the phone and asked her to take some photos of me with the corpse. When I had had my fun, I walked closer to her.
“Come here. Sit with me.” I whispered to her, cleaning the blood on my hands. She sat shivering; her blood ran cold as she saw the blood pouring out of the boy. I locked the bathroom door and putting my head on her crossed legs, I laid down on the bloody floor. The school bathroom was somewhat smelly and set the mood perfectly.
“He was a nice kid, you know. He brought me fritters; his mom’s special. I am gonna miss him.” I said with relief. Her tears wetted my forehead and I could smell her pee, above all. Despite that I was comfortable in her lap, moment of peace folded me into a shell. It was quiet in there. I had faded away again. I could hear them all, cursing me for what I had done. I stayed quiet, relaxing, away from all the trauma back at home.
Andrew, my name, not that anyone knew of, still I existed, in a borrowed body with couple of others. Each one of us was unique and we existed for a reason. Our host Amir, although had a perfect charming body, was not much impressive mentally and emotionally. I came into existence, to do what Amir couldn’t, to kill our father Prasad. I tried, yesterday.
My attempt to kill my father was a failure; the poison Alicia gave me wasn’t strong enough to kill him. He was furious, surprisingly not at me, rather at Mary. I couldn’t watch her beaten up like that. She didn’t deserve that. She was not a weakling; I had seen her being fierce, when it came to me and my little sister, the minion. There was no one for her, except me. She was living in a nightmare and she had no idea that there could be a way out of it.
It wasn’t always like this. Rivan, the one who came before me wrote in details about it; how Prasad changed from a loving husband into a monster. Mary came from Herat, as a suicide bomber through Kashmir in 1990, the time of Islamic insurgents in Kashmir and Kashmiri pandits were forced to flee. One of them was young Prasad, belonging Zutshi family. He, like a hero, saved and brought her with him.
Problems started when Rivan got a message from a girl on Instagram. He posted a picture with Mary on Instagram and after two years, destiny happened. The girl who messaged Rivan was actually Mary’s sister from Herat and apparently, all Mary did was for Marzia’s mother. Marzia, her half-sister, was not even born when Mary chose to be a suicide bomber. Marzia’s mother was suffering from a heart disease and Mary needed money for her treatment. Someone offered the treatment and following, Mary ended up here.
When Mary got to know that her sister was alive and living a happy life with her mother, she couldn’t resist and started talking with her. When prasad found out about this, he was furious. The love that flourished between them doomed and gradually what left was loath.
Amir, our host, could not even believe the change in his father. He lived in Prasad’s shadow and never dared to speak against him. I had seen him crying in corner of the room folded into size of a football. That was when I came in. I wasn’t afraid like him or a coward who wouldn’t stand up for his mother. I came into existence...