I was staring into the eyes of the girl who sat before me, with swollen red eyes, and a sad expression. In her ocean-blue eyes, I could see her incomplete story.

“See, this is my story. This is what my life has been. And I didn’t enjoy it.” she said, in soft, remorseful tones.
I couldn’t find a word to comfort her. I could almost feel the pain, the mental and physical torture she had gone through since I left her. Unable to do anything else, I hugged her close. Felt the warmth of a best friend returning from hell. The fabric of her t-shirt clung to me, enveloping me in her loving essence. It had been years since I loved her this much. The love came out in a sudden blast, and I felt as if I could never let go.
“I know, dear, I know.” And I silently confessed that I was sorry. I didn’t care if she heard it or not. Because I knew she knew it already.

Her soft voice penetrated my ears like my own heart with scars and wounds of injustice etched on it.
“I can understand.” I knew she could. “I know you’ll not leave me again.”
I could only but nod my head, to affirm that I’d not break her heart twice.

I felt nothing but hate for the person who had made her go through all this. He was not human, he was a devil. She was innocent, but he took advantage of the fact. I had only one thing in mind- ruthless revenge. He deserved it. But I didn’t tell her. She had suffered enough.

The thick and dusty telephone directory lay open, while my tired eyes scanned each page before moving to the next. Finally, after all my futile efforts, I found it- ‘Miranda Turfill.’

This house they lived in, portrayed the look of a murderous drug hideout. A fire of fury and hatred burned hot inside me, and I ceased to think of the fact that I would no longer remain innocent. But I had to do it. I walked up the front stairs made of grey granite, every stone suggesting revenge due to the love of an innocent life destroyed. I would soon have blood on my hands, but I didn’t care. I pushed open the door, and I walked inside. I never stopped to think why the door was unlocked.

And out of the dark shadows, emerged a stately figure. The inhumane devil who had benefitted from this whole ugly and heartrending plot. It was devious. But she didn’t seem to think so. After all, she was his sister. And he had put my love through all this torture. His blood ran in her veins. His blood and flesh stood before me.

The flying strands of her lustrous black hair showed evil, and nothing else. She had been guilty of a crime, and it had cost an innocent life to live in misery and fear. Her face, as the red-hot coals of her eyes bored into mine, was the very picture of triumph and of illicit victory. My hand reached the knife in my back pocket, but as I held it up, she held up her hand, and radiated a shock so strong that my knife stopped midway.

“It wasn’t me.” she whispered in demeaning tones, yet evidently shocked that I had the courage to do what I had been about to.
I flashed an equally hateful grin, which turned into an angry glare.
“Yes, but it was for you.”

“I never asked him to. Go kill him.” She turned, and walked away, her stately figure still held high and proud, even though she had proved herself so low, that she would live at the cost of her family’s death.

I struggled to get it all clear in my mind. My love, my friend, had been framed and tortured unfeelingly by a monster. But that monster had done it for his own sister. But his own sister, the witch as she was, she was not grateful, instead, she wanted to live while her brother, who had become a criminal for her, died! What limits could human envy and human hatred reach?
Yet another painful doubt stabbed my brain again and again, urging it for an answer. Why had she thought that I wouldn’t kill her? She was my sister.

As I stood there, clutching the knife, sweating with all the thoughts that mixed up in hate in my mind, I suddenly became aware of a hand resting on my shoulder. I whipped round, and saw a fairy in hell. It was Mia, the girl, who had suffered, I had left her, and then she came to save me, to find me, when I was falling through the tunnel that eventually ended at death.

“Don’t . . . try . . . to . . . do . . . it . . .” She worded deeply, understandingly. I instantly knew why. He would get back at me, or Miranda would. She didn’t care for her brother, but she cared for he rich life he provided her with. If he didn’t remain alive, neither would Mia, and nor would I.

I held Mia’s hand tenderly, and walked away from the place that represented hell on the earth. You see, revenge can kill love. But love can kill the fire of revenge too. But when love and revenge merged, you only saw hate blind your eyes. He was nothing but an illusion within me. I stood before Mia, and hence, the devil stood before her. Love for Miranda had blinded me momentarily, but Mia was more to me. He no longer reigned over my mind. And as Mia spoke comfortingly to me, I knew she had finally committed the insane deed of forgiving me.


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