Short Stories

The Last Picture

Anita had always loved taking photos. She had a collection of albums that captured the moments of her life. She had photos of her childhood, her school days, her college days, her wedding, her honeymoon, her pregnancy, her children, her vacations, her birthdays, her anniversaries, and everything in between. She had photos of her family, her friends, her relatives, her colleagues, her neighbors, and her pets. She had photos of happiness, sadness, anger, fear, surprise, and love. She had photos of everything that mattered to her.

She had a habit of taking a family photo every year on New Year's Eve. She would gather her husband, Raj, and her two children, Arjun and Aisha, and pose in front of the camera. She would smile and say "cheese" and click the button. She would then print the photo and put it in her album. She would also frame the photo and hang it on the wall. She would look at the photo and feel proud and grateful for her family. She would think that they were the best thing that ever happened to her.

She had done this for the past 15 years, ever since Arjun was born. She had 15 photos of her family, each one showing how they had grown and changed over the years. She loved looking at them and reminiscing about the past. She also loved looking forward to the future. She would wonder how they would look in the next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. She would imagine them growing older, wiser, and happier together. She would hope that they would always be together.

But then, everything changed. On December 31st, 2020, she lost her family in a car accident. They were on their way to a party when a drunk driver hit them. Raj died on the spot. Arjun and Aisha died on the way to the hospital. Anita survived, but she wished she hadn't. She wished she had died with them. She wished she had never woken up.

She woke up in the hospital, alone and broken. She had no one left. She had nothing left. She had lost everything that mattered to her. She had lost her reason to live. She had lost her will to live.

She cried and screamed and cursed and prayed. She asked God why he had taken them away from her. She asked him what she had done wrong. She asked him what the point of living was. She asked him to take her too. She asked him to end her misery. She asked him to let her join her family. But he didn't answer. He didn't listen. He didn't care.

She spent the next few days in the hospital, in a state of shock and grief. She refused to eat, drink, or talk. She refused to see anyone or do anything. She refused to accept what had happened. She refused to let go of her family. She refused to live without them.

She wanted to die. She wanted to kill herself. She wanted to end her pain. She wanted to be with them. She wanted to be happy again.

But she couldn't. She couldn't find the courage or the means to do it. She couldn't find a way out. She couldn't find a way to escape.

She was trapped. She was trapped in a world that had no meaning for her. She was trapped in a body that had no purpose for her. She was trapped in a life that had no joy for her.

She was trapped in hell.

She was discharged from the hospital on January 5th, 2021. She had nowhere to go. She had no home. She had no family. She had no friends. She had no one.

She decided to go to her old house, the one that she had shared with her family. She decided to go there and say goodbye to them. She decided to go there and end her life.

She took a taxi and reached the house. She paid the driver and got out. She walked to the door and opened it. She entered the house and looked around.

She saw the memories. She saw the photos. She saw the family.

She saw the last photo.

It was the one that she had taken on New Year's Eve, 2019. It was the last time that they were all together. It was the last time that they were all happy. It was the last time that they were all alive.