Crushed and Created- Tangled series (Overprotective famous brothers)

Closure

ALISHA

I never truly understood what ‘getting closure’ meant. Maybe I’d find out today. It was the premier night, and though I was gonna attend it, I didn’t plan to give shots on the red carpet. All the celebrities on the guest list were invited, but they knew that it was gonna be low key. The only reason for me to be happy was I could finally see the movie, and I could finally meet people outside home and hospital, and could finally talk about anything else but the attack.

But before that, I needed to get done with something more important.

It was usually gloomy for a September. Finally I had the hang of date and day, and also of my life. Even after a lot of refusal and fights, the guys made me go to a therapist. And the only positive thing that happened out of talking to her was that I was finally beginning to accept that I couldn’t have saved those twenty people. Maybe they were luckier to die than live this life, tormented by horrible memories. I was finally trying to put my life back together, trying to get it back to my crazy and insane life.

“Hey.” Aryan got into the BMW suv, that everyone called mine. It was by no means mine, but my chauffeur Leo loved this one, so I almost always had to ride this black thing. I didn’t get a thing about cars, but oh well.

“Hey. I’m glad you could come.”

“Kidding me? I wanted to go too, but my mom thought it was a bad idea. It’s all thanks to Malaika who made my mom understand.” He handed me some white lilies, and I smiled. White symbolized peace, and that was exactly what we both were looking for.

Did I need to mention that the paparazzi were stalking us, and following us around? Driving recklessly, they followed us to our destination. Throughout the journey we both kept mum, lost in thought. I was thinking if my idea would work, if at all it didn’t end disastrously. I thought about everyone else who had either already done what we were gonna do, or just refused to come. It was their choice, I couldn’t judge them about this one. Everyone had a different way of coping. Some decided to ignore the facts and stay in an illusion; some couldn’t seem to get themselves out of the attack. Some visited the school building- or what was left of it- everyday, some choose to fly off to their relatives or other place. But we were all trying to somehow get over the day even after a month.

“Whenever you are ready.” Mike said, and I nodded. The doors opened, and I got out with no help. The physiotherapy was proving to be extremely helpful this time around. There were six paparazzo in total, but they stayed at bay. Aryan got down, and Mike helped us deeper into the graveyard.

“They start from here.” Mike pointed at one of the graves, and I looked ahead. So many graves, all of them of the victims of the attack. Most of them were of the kids and staff at Billabong school, but some were of Aryan’s school and mine too. Everyone had decided to bury all the victims together, and have a memorial built. From what I could see, besides families and friends, nobody even bothered to come and pay respect anymore. The world had moved on, unlike us.

I passed every grave, tears flowing my eyes silently. Everyone of them had a family, and they had to shattered right now. It wasn’t fair to anyone of us or them, but then again, when had life ever been fair?

I slowed down when I reached the section where students from my school were buried. I knew the names, I knew some faces. Most kids who died were kinder gardeners, their teachers and Marcos. One name, ‘Natasha Elizabeth Smith’ got to me. I knew that kid, she was always the shy one in the group. She spoke to me occasionally during breaks, mostly about how she wished she could have siblings.

Placing a flower at every grave, I went towards the last area. The area where the terrorists were buried.

“Tango Charlie.” I read off the grave, and almost smiled through my tears. Of course they hadn’t revealed his true identity. I was glad I didn’t know his birth name, I’d hate it for my life if I did. Hating the name Tango Charlie was more than enough.

Looking down, I wished he knew what pain he had caused to hundreds of families. Did he even know that what he was doing was a sin? I’d never find out what ticked him off so much that he chose to die and kill others. What trouble could be so huge that he’d want to carry the burden of being a cold blooded murderer and terrorist on his shoulders?

Memories of his viciousness rushed back, and I staggered backwards. He affected me so much that even after his death, he kept haunting me, day and night, awake or asleep. That’s why I was here, to end it here, right now. I was done dealing with him.

“So, uh, I’ll never know your name, so I’m gonna go with Tango Charlie.” I started talking to the grave and Mike got rigid. I could understand- what normal person went to the grave of a terrorist and laid flowers, forget talking. I could see Aryan on the other end, sitting next to a mate’s grave. I looked back at the slab of cement below me.

“I don’t even know if you can hear me. Hell, I don’t even think I believe in spirits. But I hope they exist, and I hope you hear me. Maybe you still want to kill me, and trust me with this one. You killed a part of me forever. You killed the person who wasn’t afraid of strangers all that much. You killed the girl who could handle paparazzi. You killed the sense of security and safety inside me. You killed peaceful nights, you killed my dreams, you killed everything a human would want.

“So I guess you succeeded in a way, right? For my entire life, I won’t be able to get you out of my mind. I’ll never forget how you slammed me against the wall, kicked me repeatedly, how you enjoyed my mute pain. A sadist I see? You said I couldn’t save anyone? Well I did. I saved twenty times more people you killed. You lost this one dude, sorry.

“And, I have no idea why I’m ranting out. I’m gonna say this once and not repeat it again, so listen very carefully. I don’t give a damn about you anymore. You were nothing more than a sick, brain washed idiot, and people like you don’t deserve any emotion. Yet, I came here to pay my respect to you because I believe you were blinded, blinded by some bunch of freaks that used you for their ulterior motives. And I pity you for that.

“I’m not gonna be scared of you anymore. It’s true I’ll never be able to forget the way you tortured me throughout, with your other blinded fools, but your actions will not affect me anymore. All that you did, all the wounds that you left will heal one day or the other. So will my heart. And one day, it will be just another bad day that passed by. You will be nothing but a bad memory.

“So, I hope you find peace. Wait, who am I kidding? I talk revenge. I hope you are dragged into the deepest and the darkest pits of burning hell, torn and fried into pieces, slowly and painfully. For years on the go, for as long as the families and people you affected don’t forgive you. It’s the only way you’ll live the pain they are going through, the pain you put me my friends and my family through. And one last thing…think about your own family right now.”

I left the grave and went besides Mike. He was helping others to keep the paparazzi at bay, but I pulled him away from their sight. Tears stung my eyes, but it felt good inside. Like doing what I did, being utterly and completely foolish actually made me feel better.

It was gonna sound cliché, but the grass looked even greener now. Out of the cloudy sky came a beam of light, warm and nurturing. Mike gave me a quick hug and led me to the small memorial at the graveyard. Aryan joined us, and I looked at the black slab with golden letters encrusted on it. Names of all the victims of the horrifying attack. I realized I was lucky to not be a part of this list, and so were all my friends. Signing my name on the book, I laid the remaining flowers at the foot of the memorial.

“Maybe they left for a better world.” Aryan looked behind us, at all the similar looking graves and the vast expanse of land ahead.

“Maybe they felt no pain, at all.” I added and he nodded.

“But we’ve gotta live our lives.” He slung his hand over my shoulder, as Mike escorted us back to the car waiting for our return.

“And theirs.” I looked back at Natasha’s grave, her vivacious giggle ringing in my ears. Sitting back into the car, a quote I had read passed my head and I was surprised to have ignored the wise words for so long.

 ‘Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.’

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