Chapter 2: My Murder,Part 1

"I'm not a murderer," Riya whispered to the empty room. "I was 8. I don't even remember you."

The typewriter stayed silent all day. Its keys were cold, like it was holding its breath. Riya tried to write something else, anything else, but the paper came out blank every time. Shanti Villa felt heavier today. The walls were listening.

At 12:01 AM it came alive.

CLACK-CLACK-CLACK

"THE NIGHT MY FATHER DIED... YOUR FATHER WAS THE LAST PERSON HE TRUSTED."

Riya's throat went dry. The cursor blinked on the yellowed paper. Then words started appearing on their own, like someone was bleeding memories onto the page.

Page 1: Year 2010. Summer Vacation.

The mela was crowded. The air smelled of jalebi, dust, and sweat. Loudspeakers were blaring old film songs. An 8 year old Riya held her mother's hand tight. Her new red frock was already stained with ice-cream. She saw a balloon wala with a bunch of pink balloons and tugged hard. Her small hand slipped from her mother's grip.

She was lost.

The crowd moved like a river and she was a pebble stuck in it. People bumped into her. Someone stepped on her foot. She started crying, big tears rolling down her dusty cheeks. Her mother was nowhere.

A 13 year old boy in a torn shirt found her crying near the jalebi stall. His own clothes were faded and his slippers were broken. But his smile was whole. "Don't cry chotu. What’s your name?"

"R-Riya," she sniffed, wiping her nose with her frock.

"I’m Kabir. I’ll take you home. Come." He held out his hand. His palm was rough, like he worked, but his touch was gentle.

Riya looked up. The boy had kind eyes. Eyes that had seen too much sadness for a 13 year old, but still chose to be kind. She held his hand. It was warm. Safe.

For one hour, Kabir became her whole world. He bought her a balloon with his last 5 rupees. He carried her on his shoulders so she could see the giant wheel. He even scolded a man who tried to push her. "She's lost, uncle. Have some shame."

He asked every tea stall, every shop. "8 saal ki ladki. Red frock. Dekhi?" Finally, a police constable recognized Riya's description from the announcements. Her parents came running, her mother crying, her father angry.

Riya's father, Raj Sharma, looked at Kabir like he was dirt. He pulled a 100 rupee note from his wallet and threw it at Kabir's feet. "Le. Inam."

Kabir didn't pick it up. He just looked at Riya and smiled. "Go home, chotu. Be safe."

Riya wanted to say thank you. She wanted to say "I'll remember you". But her father dragged her away before she could speak.

STOP, Riya said out loud to the typewriter. Her voice cracked. "So you saved me. That makes me a killer how? You were... you were good to me."

The typewriter typed fast. The keys hit so hard the desk shook. KEEP READING.

Page 2: The Business Partners

Kabir's father was Arjun Mehra. Riya's father was Raj Sharma. Mehra Constructions and Sharma Builders. They were building Shanti Villa together. 50-50 partnership. Arjun Mehra put his land, his life savings. Raj Sharma put his contacts and money. The contract was on a stamp paper, signed in blue ink.

One day, 2 years after the mela, Kabir came home from school. He heard his father shouting in the office room: "Raj, you forged my signature! You took the whole project in your name! Shanti Villa is mine too!"

Riya's father Raj Sharma laughed. The sound was cold, like metal. "Proof it, Mehra saab. The papers say Sharma Builders. The land is now mine. Poor people should know their place. You trusted me. That's your fault."

Kabir peeked through the door. His father was holding fake papers. The signature was his, but he never signed them. The stamp was new. Raj Sharma had cheated him. Stolen his dream, his future, everything.

That night Kabir's father drank poison. The bottle was green and the smell filled their small house. He left a note on the dining table in shaky handwriting: "Raj stole my life. I can't look my son in the eye. Forgive me, Kabir."

Kabir found him at 3 AM. He was only 15. He held his father's cold hand till sunrise.

MY FATHER DIED BECAUSE OF YOUR FATHER, the typewriter wrote. The letters were so deep they almost tore the paper. NOW YOU UNDERSTAND?

Riya's hands were ice cold. Her blood felt like it had stopped moving. "My papa... did that? He killed your father?"

YES. AND I SWORE REVENGE. BUT NOT ON YOU. I LIKED YOU, RIYA. YOU WERE THE ONLY GOOD THING IN THAT FAMILY. THE ONLY PERSON WHO DIDN'T LOOK AT US LIKE WE WERE INSECTS.

Riya wiped her eyes with her sleeve. The tears were hot and angry. "Then why does it say I killed you? If you liked me, why am I the killer?"

The typewriter paused. For the first time, it hesitated. The keys trembled. Then: BECAUSE ON THE NIGHT I DIED, YOU WERE THERE. ON THE TERRACE. WITH ME. YOU WERE THE LAST PERSON I SAW. YOUR HAND WAS THE LAST THING I FELT.

Riya stood up so fast the chair fell back. "No. No no no. I would remember if I saw someone die! I was 8 at the mela. Next time I was here I was 21! I never came back!"

WOULD YOU? OR DID YOUR FATHER PAY A DOCTOR TO MAKE YOU FORGET?

The room started spinning. The walls of Shanti Villa blurred. Riya remembered flashes. A hospital room. White walls. A smell of antiseptic. A man in a white coat holding a syringe. Her father standing by the bed, his face tight with worry and guilt.

"Give her the injection," her father was saying. "She should not remember that night. She should not remember the terrace. She should not remember the boy. Make her forget, Doctor. Whatever it costs."

Riya fell to her knees. Her palms hit the cold marble floor. "What happened that night, Kabir? What did my father make me forget? What did I do?"

Her voice broke. She was 8 again, lost again, but this time there was no Kabir to find her.

The typewriter wrote one final line before going silent. The keys clicked slowly, like a funeral bell.

TOMORROW. POORNIMA NIGHT. I WILL TELL YOU HOW I DIED. SLEEP NOW, RIYA SHARMA. YOU WILL NEED ENERGY FOR THE TRUTH.

The typewriter went dead.

Riya sat on the floor till morning, hugging her knees. Outside, the moon was almost full. Tomorrow was Poornima.

And she was terrified to know the truth.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***