By Shreya Tare
The rugged ground felt better than belt slaps under my body, absorbing the roughness through my attenuated trousers.
It was a luxury, I was grateful. My gut clenched and my soul riven with the skin around my ankles. I sat in a dark alley, clutching my safety knife, my hold tightening on the scales with every breathe I inhale.
I had escaped from the evil, along with the singular, angelic girl, whose face was that of a beautiful and strong cactus flower, and antithetical like the lilium flower I was, thornless, harmless. I wanted to have harmful thorns like her, and stand up for us, but instead of fighting those men, monsters, I had chosen to run, save myself and not her.
Tears began, blurring the vision of her delicate, crooked nose, soft brown, big eyes and my most loved- her chapped pink lips, which gave me hope that one day, they could be healthy and plump and I would get the chance to feel them. But, no, it was my fault. When we, ten girls including me were taken away from the slums, to the most beautiful palace that ever existed, we weren’t aware that it was gorgeous because it was polished, and we were supposed to scrub that off to be exposed to the darkest fears of a girl’s life. The only thing that got me through it was an angel, her presence.
The silence in the valley stretched, making goosebumps rise on my skin, making trepidation unfurl in my gut. Silence was golden, she had told me. No, silence was expecting, I now disagree.
And just like that, gravel crunched, and wet footsteps echoed. I pushed myself off the wall I was sitting against, out-pointed my knife, my menial skills evident to no one. A figure, not so manly, yet familiarly tall, comes in view and I squint my eyes, trying to adjust my gaze. Comparatively slim and not manly, thank God, it walks closer, until I realize her being. Her.
I fall towards her, not giving in to her implausible presence. How was it possible? How was it possible, again? And then she does it, she smiles, her megawatt smile lighting up the black alley and my fast-pacing heart. I choke on my own emotions, nothing intelligible whispering out of my mouth, as I let out a sob. Her smile falls, and for the two most sorrowful seconds I think it was a vision, but then it is impossible to feel a vision, isn’t it? Because the next thing, I feel are frail but, capable arms around me, bringing me in for a bone-crushing embrace.
It feels real, too real, and I try to deal with it. Once Laura releases me, I tilt up to face the living angel, her face as breathtaking as I remember.
“I am sorry, so sorry.” I croak out the most felt words, and her brows crease. Oh no, I am not getting forgiven. “Please forgive me”, I push. She releases me and hold me at arm distance, looking bewildered.
“Why are you sorry? We are at last free, and you haven’t been braver than today, and I am proud of you, you inspire me, Hope.” The way she speaks, what she says, my name rolling of her tongue, the proximity of her body and the intimacy in the alignment of our faces make me bow my head and look at her bare feet, against my slipper clad ones. Even after having walked in the rain, her feet look illuminated under the light of her own.
“Take me with you, wherever you want to.”, she says, the trust in her eyes wetting her eyes. I nod involuntarily and look at those chapped, thin lips. My hope for healthy future. Hope’s hope. She observes the visible and raw need in my eyes and doesn’t push me away, surprising me.
“I can feel it too, Hope, and it isn’t wrong unless you make it.” She whispers.
“I will never wrong you, us. Never, Laura.” I say and move closer, tension cracking between us.
As I reach her, my lithe, short body pressed against her tall frame, I sigh in delight.
She bends, adjusting her face against mine and captures my lips between hers, and sending the sweetest and the most foreign waves of familiarity through my body, making my body turn liquid.
Pulling away, I look at the plump wetness of her lips, an unfamiliar and new feeling making my chest flutter. If this was my last second on Earth, I would die sated and in her arms.
“Wherever you go, promise to take me.” The vulnerability in her voice, and tears in her eyes brings me to my knees, and I slip through her fingers and fall down on my knees.
“I won’t, believe me. I cannot handle your absence. It frightens me.” My knees hurt due to the gravel, but it’s the least compared to what I feel seeing tears burn her eyes. Her eyes widen for fraction of second and then she is on the ground, across me, her knees brushing mine.
“I believe you with everything I have and all I have is you. I trust you, with you.”
And then, without looking back, we get on your feet, now her in slippers, and me bare feet, and don’t look back.
By Shreya Tare
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