The Vile.

Chapter : 60

Villain.

The smell of her is slowly fading. It's not as strong as it has been when he was first placed on her bed. Yes, his half conscious self realized it from the moment that they have moved him to her bedroom. But he went through a lot these past years, they cannot fool him that easily. He knows she isn't here. Otherwise the bed never would've felt so cold against his skin, it would've been warm, her soft hands would've been roaming all over his body, her beautiful eyes would've been furrowed with worry. Her fingers would have been running through his hair. After all he has been in a situation quite similar to this previously and that was one particular instance when he wanted to live and not die anytime soon. He was content with her being around him. He needed no medications. She has a weird power to make him feel alive, make him feel that everything is okay, everything is bearable and everything is happy. But now that happiness is ripped out of his heart. The pain in his hand seems like nothing compared to the pain in his chest. She left him. She broke her promise. Now all he feels is an empty hole inside of him and.... anger, plain, sheer rage.

His brain has woken up, but his body is still in denial. He wants to wake up and beat the shit out of everyone around him. He wants to destroy the whole world that took his Sudha away from him. And he will do just that. All he needs is his body to cooperate with his mind. The pain inside his chest is becoming unbearable. He wants her here. Right now. He needs her to hug him, to kiss him, to make him feel loved. But she is nowhere. As if a drug withdrawal, his whole body aches. Aches to have her back to him, to feel her skin against his, to smell her soothing earthly smell, to see the love and care in her light brown eyes.

The struggle ends and his grey eyes snap open. Red, puffy. Everything infront of him seems blurry. But he can smell her and the smell calms his nerves. He tries to sit up but feels lightheaded. His huge body falls back to the bed with a thump once again. He keeps trying. And keeps putting pressure on his hands. Which makes blood ooze out of his wound. But he feels nothing other than the one need of bringing her back to him.

And he finally makes it. He stands up, his bare upper body is filled with fresh cuts and bruises, his upper left arm has a white bandage wrapped around it which is not so white anymore after struggling so much and opening the wound. He pants, everything infront of him is still blurry, he feels tipsy, as if he can trip anytime. He blinks his eyes a few time and runs his hand through the scar on his face. He pinches his eyes, and shakes his head. But nothing changes. So he gets inside her washroom and splashes water on his face. But the drowsiness remains. He doesn't waste anytime and starts moving towards the door. He needs to find her. She isn't safe. Amit said she isn't safe, no, no, Abhay. That's his name. Yes. He needs to bring her back. He needs to claim what's his. And if that means destroying everything around him then be it. She was his from the beginning, and now she is more so. He knows his heart will stop beating the moment he gets rejected by her. There is nothing to hide anymore, he is addicted to her, addicted to her smell, her laughter, her warmth, her affection, her touch and her lips. He closes his eyes, as if to recollect the feel of her lips on his and takes a deep breath to stabilize himself.

He will burn down every single soul that dares to stop him from taking what's his. They want war, he'll give them that.

He walks inside his room and finds his lastly discarded black t-shirt. He puts that on with every bit of effort. Then he stands up and places his hand on the wall beside him for support. The drowsiness is bothering him way too much. He strolls toward his study table and opens the drawer and brings out the cigarette case and his gun, that's when he realizes he is still in his sweat pant, which doesn't have back pockets, so he changes into a jeans as well. Then opening the cigarette case and he pulls out a cigarette. Lighting it up he remembers her offended face, warnings him about the consequences, asking him to put it back inside the box. She would've been upset. But then again might not be, after all she left him all alone. His hand trembles as he inhales a generous amount of smoke and closes his eyes. But no relief. Nothing can ease the pain. The rage surpasses it's limits as he thumps his hands on the table with full force, while exhaling with a pained growl. The panting increases. His grey eyes become glassy. It's an unknown uneasiness. As if his source of energy has been taken away from him. He hastily puts the gun at his back pocket. With his dark hair disheveled he strolls out of the room. He needs to go to the hospital, he needs to witness the truth first.