He woke up with a shudder. It was as if a sudden jolt of lightning went pass right through his head. Someone whispered something in his ears. But there was no one in the room apart from him and that suffocating silence that had engulfed the ambiance. Was it a dream? He tried to relive it. But his mind was not able to capture anything. He never experienced such an easiness before. He glanced at his alarm clock. It said 7. Somehow the alarm clock appeared to be the culprit. He threw it with all his force towards the mirror. But still the wreckage didn’t appear to answer his question.
He was sitting on his bed, his hands trying to comfort his head. Something was very very wrong. He could feel it from head to toe. Every part of his body was shouting for exemption. His thought process was in shambles. He tried searching for his sole companion but he could only find the empty boxes of cigarette lying all around. It appeared as if the entire fate has plotted this against him. He was just unable to fathom what was going on. His world had literally come to a standstill and he could not do a thing about it.
He was looking at the broken pieces of mirror lying on he ground. His own image broken into several pieces in front of him, just like his soul, just like his existence. It started with a prick and now it was surging in. He was looking around, trying to find a life somewhere around, the one which he could torture in order to cure him. May be the sadistic pleasure help him find a way out.
The funny part was that all this while he never tried to escape from the room. He was still sitting in the same posture. The boulder of all the mess that he had caused lying all around him. There was nothing left to destroy, neither in the room nor in his life. He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t remember anything about his life but the last hour. The hour which was nothing sort of a living hell. He kept on shouting at the top of his voice for long stretches, hoping the demon that had engulfed his soul to find a escape somehow. He tried torturing himself using the broken pieces of mirror. The wounds and the blood didn’t appear to help him either. But somehow, in one way or the other, they seem to gave him a blurred vision. The pain was bringing back the memories. Whatever was happening right now was just like a Deja Vu. He decided not to stop. If this is what it took, then let it be.
Amidst all the pain, amidst all the havoc, amidst all the suffering, Rahul decided that there was no way out. He can’t continue to let this happen to him anymore. Enough of pain he had endured, it was time to let go. He kept looking in that piece of mirror. His brown eyes were still gleaming with confidence , looking at him, trying to console him. It would be over, you just need to give it one more try. “Yes it would be over. It would be over for sure.”, he said to himself.
He dusted his bed, arranged the bedsheet and the pillow. He took his cellphone, typed something and hit the send button. He took a deep breath and went back to sleep. With a hope that may be this time when he wakes up, he would have found an answer to all his questions. But it’s been long since he had been living by that hope. It was clearly not working. His eyes were closed and his mind was trying to get hold of that state of unconsciousness that he always strived for. He was drifting into those unknown tunnels once again, trying to find that spot of light. He once again entered that alley through that mysterious door. The door which always made him anxious. The door which had so many things written on it which Rahul wanted to read but somehow he wasn’t able to. The door which closed this time, with a very loud thud.
There he was. Sleeping like a little kid, pure and carefree. The slit in his right wrist very much evident by now. The work was done, he was free. He stood there looking at that magical door. It was closed forever, no one would be forcing him to go back to face all the torture. He started walking towards the door. His anxiety rising with every step. At last, he would be having a good look of that door. At last, nothing would hurry him to leave that place. At last, he would be able to stand there for as long as he wishes to and read what was written on that door. And at last, he would be able to write on that door too, telling everyone about his own little story.