Kaira woke to a room that didn’t feel like hers.

Dim light pushed through the curtains, falling over a floor scattered with something dark. For a second her brain refused to make sense of it. Then her hand brushed the strands.

Hair.

Her hair.

Cut off. Everywhere.

A cold ache spread through her chest. She lifted her own trembling fingers to her head. Short. Uneven. Wrong.

“What… what did I do…?” she whispered, knees giving out.

Her mom was going to kill her. Not because hair mattered but because… she mattered. Her hair was the one thing her mother controlled with absolute precision. No cutting. No trimming. No freedom. Just approval—Kaira spent her entire life chasing it like a scared dog.

She forced herself to look up.

The walls.

Scribbles. Violent, messy, looping like a child’s panicked hand. Not drawings—memories.

Memories from those fifteen days she never talked about.

Did I really do this?

Why can’t I remember?

Her heart thumped painfully. Her breathing turned thin. The room seemed to tilt and swell, like it wanted to swallow her.

Fragments hit her in flashes—

A boy.

His wrist in her hand.

Her punch landing too hard.

Impossible. She never hit anyone. She trained for years, but she never used that strength. Not really. Not on someone.

It didn’t add up.

Nothing added up.

She stood, moving like a ghost through the wreckage of her own room, and stepped out.

Her mother was already waiting in the living room, arms crossed, lips curled in annoyance.

“So this is what you were doing yesterday?” her mother snapped. “Drunk? High? Lost your mind? Look at your hair, Kaira. Look at that room. When will you stop being a disappointment?”

Each word hit like a slap, but Kaira stayed silent. She didn’t even know what she was defending herself from.

Her mother stormed out, muttering, “I’m done with this nonsense.”

The silence left behind was worse than any shouting.

The house felt too big. Too empty. Walls leaning in. Air thick. Kaira pressed her hands to her ears, willing her thoughts to shut up.

Why can’t I remember? Did I forget something important…?

She grabbed her phone, desperately searching for something familiar. Something normal.

Messages.

Notifications.

Dozens of them.

Her name.

Laughing emojis.

“Lesbian.”

“Bro she confessed to her friend??”

“What a freak.”

Her stomach dropped.

And then she saw Nitya’s message.

“Don’t come today.

Don’t talk to me.

We should… stay away from each other.”

Her vision blurred.

“I confessed… didn’t I?” she whispered, voice cracking. “She slapped me. She actually… slapped me.”

She sank to the floor again.

Everything felt wrong.

Her room.

Her memories.

Her body.

Her heart.

Her life.

She choked on a breath. “Why me…? Why do I mess up everything?”

The notifications kept popping.

Her mother’s words kept replaying.

Nitya’s rejection kept echoing.

Her chest felt like it was caving in.

She stood up slowly, as if someone else was moving her legs, and walked back to her room. To the bathroom. To where everything felt quieter.

The tub filled with cold, rising water. She watched it without blinking. Without thinking.

It overflowed. She stepped in. Closed her eyes.

Maybe this time she wouldn’t have to wake up.

Water climbed around her, heavy and numbing. She let herself sink.

And then—

A breath.

A strange, tiny giggle.

Like a child discovering water for the first time.

Her eyes weren’t open.

Her consciousness wasn’t fully there.

But something inside her had woken up.

A small version of her.

Seven years old.

Smiling.

Playing with the water like it was a toy.

The tub splashed softly, the sound too innocent for the heaviness in the room.

Kaira’s body moved on its own. Her head rose above water. She gasped, coughed. Laughed—and it wasn’t her laugh.

Something else had taken over.

Something that didn’t want her to die.

Something that had been waiting a long, long time.

Zoooom!

Kaira slapped her palms on the bathwater, sending tiny waves bouncing against the tub. She giggled at the splash—

Then froze.

“Oh no no no… school!” Her eyes widened. “If I don’t go, Mommy will get super angry—haaah!”

She tried to stand too fast, slipped, and fell back with a loud thunk.

“Ouch! Bad tub! Very bad tub!” she scolded, pointing one accusing finger at the porcelain as if it had betrayed her.

She wrapped herself in the nearest towel and wrinkled her nose.

“Ewww… white towel. Where’s my cartoon one? I want the blue penguin one… Mommy will change this today. Daddy too.”

Then her head tilted.

She looked around the bathroom.

“…Wait. This isn’t my house?”

The tiles were different. The mirror bigger. The room outside—she peeked out—huge.

“Woah…” Her voice softened. “Did we become rich? Yes! Kaira likes this house!”

She waddled into the bedroom—messy, scattered clothes, scribbles on the wall.

Someone had drawn a crooked face in marker.

“That looks like me,” she whispered. Panic hit. “Oh NO. If Mommy sees this, she’ll punish me!” Pause. “…Actually, drawing is good. Hehe. Oops.”

She opened the cupboard expecting frilly frocks.

Black T-shirts. Baggy jeans. Sports bras.

“Ehhh? Whose clothes are these? Where is my pink frock? My shiny rainbow one?” Her lips trembled.

“But… this—” she lifted a black T-shirt, “—looks cool.”

She puffed her chest. “Kaira will wear black today. Badass color!”

Then began her wrestling match with the sports bra.

“Is this my mom’s?! Why so difficult?!”

After a one-minute battle, she somehow got it on.

Now uniform.

“Uniform… wait, where is my uniform??” She opened every drawer. No school frocks—only college notebooks.

“Kyaaaaahhh!” She flopped on the floor dramatically. “Mommyyyyy! Nothing is here! Teacher will shout!”

Her foot hit something. A phone.

“Oh! I call Mommy!”

Face ID unlocked instantly.

She squinted. “…Wow. Genius.”

She dialed her mom.

“Hello?” Tejasvi’s tired voice.

“Mommy! I can’t find my uniform! My bag! My books! Where is my school bag? Mommy teacher will—”

“Kaira,” Tejasvi cut sharply, “stop this nonsense. I’ll send the driver. Go to college. And behave.”

Call disconnected.

Kaira stared at the phone. Eyes wide. Slowly filling with tears.

“My mom doesn’t want me anymore…” Her lower lip trembled. “But… Kaira will go alone.”

She wore the oversized T-shirt, black jeans, pinned a napkin like a bib, locked the door carefully—Mommy said locking was important—and went downstairs.

The driver smiled kindly.

“College, ma’am?”

“This isn’t my school…” she whispered.

He chuckled. “You’re teasing again. You’re a grown student now.”

Blinking, she whispered, “Grown…? I’m big?”

A shy smile. “Kaira is smart girl. She is in college now!”

---

The Campus

She stepped out, humming.

“La la la la—”

Until she heard whispers.

“Isn’t that the boxer girl?”

“Yeah, the one who never punches.”

“Didn’t she… confess to her best friend? Hostel gossip says she’s lesbian.”

Her smile cracked.

Her steps shrank.

Her shoulders curled in.

Why were they looking?

Why were they whispering?

She wrapped her arms around herself. She looked tiny. Like she wanted to vanish.

She bumped into Nitya—her relief.

“Kaira?” Nitya frowned. “Why are you walking like that? And this outfit?”

The child alter peeked from behind her hair. “…I got scared… can I walk with you?” she whispered.

Nitya sighed. “Not today. I told you we need distance.”

Her little chest sank. Eyes blurred.

“I… I just wanted to be near you…”

“Kaira, stop. Don’t follow me today.”

Kaira nodded slowly. Turned away. Walked quietly, shrinking into herself.

---

The Washroom

She wandered into an empty corridor, heart racing.

Then she felt something warm trickle down her leg.

Her breath broke.

Blood.

Her hands shook.

Her vision trembled.

“Mommy… I’m hurt…” she whispered. “It’s blood… I’m bleeding… I’m gonna die—”

Her knees hit the floor.

Sharp cramps twisted inside her.

Too much pain for a seven-year-old mind trapped in a twenty-year-old body.

She curled up, sobbing. “I… I want Mommy… someone help me…”

Then—

A quiet shift.

A calmer presence.

Older.

Darker.

“Stop. Control. Move.”

Her crying slowed.

Her fingers stilled.

Her posture straightened.

Something inside her—someone protective—rose to the surface.

Not scared.

Not childish.

Not weak.

A hidden alter.

A protector.

The bleeding.

The fear.

The pain.

Handled. Controlled.

For the first time, she wasn’t just the frightened child.

She was… becoming someone else.

Someone who watched.

Who protected.

Who waited.

Kaira stared at herself in the washroom mirror.

Her hair was uneven, jagged — like someone had cut it in the dark.

She frowned.

“What a mess,” she muttered.

She pulled off the napkin pinned to her chest and tossed it into the bin.

The childishness that had consumed her earlier wasn’t gone all at once.

It faded slowly… painfully… like fog dissolving under harsh morning light.

Her shoulders straightened.

Her eyes sharpened.

Her face lost its softness.

When she stepped out into the long corridor, the air felt wide and empty —

except for one person standing at the far end.

Nitya.

Pretending not to notice her. Pretending to scroll through her phone.

But Kaira knew. She was waiting.

As Kaira walked past, Nitya’s expression pinched —

a strange mix of worry, irritation, jealousy, and confusion.

“Kaira,” she called.

Kaira paused, but didn’t turn.

“Do you… enjoy attention?” Nitya asked quietly.

“Was all of that an act? The childish behavior, the drama?

Are you trying to embarrass yourself… or me?”

The words hung in the air like dust motes in a shaft of light — floating, heavy, accusatory.

Kaira didn’t answer.

Not because she didn’t care.

But because she no longer knew how to care.

So she simply waited, letting Nitya’s frustration burn out on its own.

When silence finally settled between them, Kaira walked away without a word.

Nitya scoffed under her breath.

“Great. I was worried for nothing.”

But the sting in her voice told a different story.

---

Home

Kaira reached home earlier than usual.

The quiet hit her immediately —

wide, heavy, swallowing everything it touched.

The living room was messy.

Her room was worse.

Clothes scattered.

Broken strands of hair everywhere.

Black ink scribbles twisting across the wall like scars she didn’t remember making.

Her head felt stuffed with cotton.

She picked up a pillow and began cleaning —

not gently, but with a fierce urgency.

Folding clothes.

Scrubbing the wall.

Picking up hair strand by strand.

It wasn’t cleaning.

It was control —

a desperate attempt to fix something

when she couldn’t fix herself.

By the time she finished, the sky outside had turned orange.

She sat on the edge of her bed.

Her head spun.

Her vision wavered.

Then—

A sharp cramp tore through her stomach.

She bent forward, clutching her abdomen.

Warmth trickled down her inner thigh again.

Her whole body flinched.

“Not again…” she whispered.

Blood.

Her period wouldn’t let her breathe.

Her fever made the pain crueler.

She tried standing, but her legs trembled violently.

She wrapped herself in a blanket, shivering despite the heat burning beneath her skin.

Her forehead throbbed.

Her lips felt cracked.

Her breathing uneven.

The room tilted sideways.

She stumbled back onto the bed and curled into herself.

Everything inside her felt tight — as if her mind was shrinking again into a small, frightened version of itself.

Her heartbeat grew louder.

Her eyelids heavier.

Her thoughts messy, dissolving.

Then the world dimmed…

…and darkness quietly pulled her under.