Unexpected

Chapter 10

The Antagonist's Salvation

The little, cozy room was brightly lit from the soft sunlight streaming in through the big, glass windows.

He was relaxing, sitting motionless, enjoying the warmth of the profuse ochre sunlight.

He always preferred to meditate and lighten his capricious mood sitting infront of his favourite spot.
The glass windows definitely provided a resplendent scenic beauty of the endless ocean infront of him.

He often wondered about all the crepuscular secrets the boundless ocean hid underneath it's warm, effervescent turquoise sheath of briny waters.
Me and the sea, we're just the same, he thought.

Actually, he believed it to be true.
He had a very troubled childhood. Problems, and lots of problems seemed to attract him like a piece of iron towards a magnet. When things used to get messy, and used to reach beyond his control, he tried to sneak out.

Yes, he always chose to run away from his obstacles rather than dealing with them.
For him, the only solution was running towards the nearby beach as fast as his tiny legs would carry him, and throwing himself off to the spongy bed of sand.

The roar of crashing waves, one after another, used to soothe his raging, scared nerves.

He never fancied the night life, though. He never, ever found any logical explanation why the magnificent view of the night ocean always made his skin crawl. He always had a feeling, creating a whirlwind in his heart that, he was drowning.

Drowning deep down the ocean, deep down it's tenebrous briny waters, the monstrous waves swallowing his cries of agony, the fathomless depth snatching away his ability to survive.

The unique mantra behind his current tranquil state of mind was, mainly remembrance. He really liked to dwell over the life he had left behind.
His labyrinthine childhood, growing up, his boyhood.

Especially the incredible deeds he did to metamorphose himself to the man he is, today.

He took a trip down to his memory lane to the very first incident that changed his perspectives.

The day was very humid.
The blistering midday heat was making everyone extremely uncomfortable, but not him. He mainly preferred to play outside whenever the scorching sun started to power up. The immense sweat, the fiery heat, and the flaming sun alongwith the sweltering weather always, always used to charge up his eleven-year old self.

The combination used to propel his mind furiously.

Often he used to visit the beach during his play sessions. He recalled, just at the mouth of the vast pinewoods along the seashore, he already had his favourite place located.

A beautiful cottage, on the other side of which there lay a colossal forest of pine trees.

He slowly advanced towards his newfound playhouse, which he imagined to be deserted, and by then had totally made his mind to turn the cottage into his private property.

Forging ahead, relishing the balmy whisper of the sultry wind to his skin, he was just about to open the door when he heard voices inside.
Hushed, soft tone just like a mother cuddling her baby to sleep.

Pure shock attacked him, baffled him. He kicked open the wooden door, rushed inside the wooden room fuming.

Boy, he was angry. How dare someone invade his property?
The cottage was his to be taken care of. Who the hell were these people?
They had absolutely no right to seize what he claimed as his own.
Absolutely no right.

Noticing him barging in like that, the elderly woman was surprised, but forced a kind smile and committed the terrible mistake of asking ," Do you need anything , child?"

That was the moment.

That was the very moment when the towering rage blinded him, he felt the violent uncontrollable anger literally disintegrating his brain cells, and the only cause he could identify that very moment was the smiling, kind elderly woman and her little, sleeping baby curled up in a dusty corner.

" You've no right to be here. This place is mine." He mouthed the words very carefully.

The woman laughed this time.

" Son, me and my little Raghav have been living here for the past five years. Who are you? Where are you coming from?" Her interest was genuine.

" Oh, the fun begins," his mind raced.

" I'm extremely sorry. I'm so tired that I completely lost my mind and lashed out. I'm really sorry, ma'am. Can you please fetch me a glass of water? I'm parched," the fake mellifluous baritone flowed efficiently from his throat.

"Why not! Wait a minute."

He was counting every second. The air was growing thick with anticipation, his heart pounding faster.

The woman walked towards him with a glass of water.
Right before she could hand the glass over to him, like a flash the knife met her flesh, soft and pudgy, making a satisfying squish as the tip of the blade sank deeper, deep enough to make his trespasser scream in terror.

He ogled as his immature hands were rotating the knife he stole from his kitchen while having breakfast earlier that day, he inhaled the tangy aroma of blood gushing through his victim's wounds, as the metal tore her skin to shreds.

She dropped on the bloody floor, broken.

Dead.

He observed his first lifeless enemy very carefully.
The pool of blood was still warm.
The air was searing.

He was deeply overwhelmed.
Satisfaction laced his heart.
Nobody takes what's his. Nobody.

And just like that, he reached to his salvation. He felt pure. He felt blessed.

Embracing the scorching heat of the blazing sun, he felt like a conqueror.