THE FALLEN DIVINITY

In a dimly lit room, the air was thick with unsettling stillness. Sristi was laying on a bed unconscious, her breath was shallow. Slowly her eyelids fluttered open, waking her up from her slumber, her face pale, as though she had just emerged from a restless dream. As she rubbed her eyes to clear the blur of sleep, she observed her surrounding with bewilderment.

She sat up, her body trembling as she rubbed her eyes, trying to dispel the remnants of sleep and confusion. Shadows dancing on the walls, cast by a single lamp in the corner. The room was unfamiliar, cold strange and suffocatingly silent. Her heart began to race, as the realisation hit her, this wasn't where she was supposed to be.

Still clad in her school uniform, her light blue kurti and black leggings. But she was missing something her black dupatta, as absence that made her fell oddly vulnerable. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the icy flood, sending a shiver up her spine. She took a caution step forward, scanning her surrounding with wide frightened eyes, her heartbeat pounding loud and relentless, like a drum echoing in her chest.

'Where am I?' The question hammered in her mind. Her thoughts spiralled, 'Where is Papa? What happened after school?'

The silence pressed against her ears like a weight. She noticed the closed door, compelled by instinct and desperation, she moved toward it, her breath catching in her throat with every step. As she reached for the handle, her hand trembling, a sound froze her in place.

A voice, soft yet fractured, like glass breaking in slow motion, echoed from the shadows behind her.

"Why… did you… do this to me, Sristi?"

The voice was soft, broken, yet haunting. It belonged to a girl, Sristi knew it well. A wave of terror gripped her chest, tightening like a vice. Her trembling hands betrayed her fear as her throat turned parched and her lips paled. She couldn't move, frozen in place as her mind screamed at her to turn and look.

Something inside her whispered that she couldn't run, that she must face this voice, this person, as if she were guilty of a terrible act and was finally about to face judgment.

Summoning the last fragments of her courage, Sristi forced herself to turn around. Her movements were slow, hesitant, and each moment felt stretched into an eternity.

But when her eyes fell on the figure behind her, her heart nearly stopped.

It wasn't the girl she feared. Standing there instead was a young man, his head bowed, his bare chest rising and falling with deliberate calm. The dim light outlined his frame, but his presence carried a weight that made the air feel suffocating.

Her fear deepened. She recognized him, but her panicked mind couldn't piece together why he was there.

The man slowly raised his head, and Sristi recoiled instinctively at his lecherous smile. His eyes were filled with lust. Sristi's body shook uncontrollably, froze in pure terror.

Desperate, Sristi reached for the door handle, her hands trembling as she tried to twist it open, but the door wouldn't budge. Her pulse thundered in her ears as the man closed the distance between them.

With one sudden movement, he shoved her against the door, he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head with terrifying strength.

He leaned in, Sristi could feel his lecherous breath against her skin. He pressed his face against hers, rubbing it against her fair, pale cheek.

Sristi could feel his hand sliding down her arm, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness washed over her. She struggled, but every attempt to break free was futile.

Terror surged within her, paralyzing her will to fight. "Please… don't… don't do this…" her voice cracked, hoarse and trembling.

Her pleas felt like whispers lost in a storm, fueling the dark presence that hovered over her. "Please… let me go," she begged again, tears streaking down her face, her eyes squeezing shut in a desperate attempt to escape the nightmare.

The air felt suffocating, the weight of her helplessness pressing down on her chest as she struggled to breathe, to think, to fight. But all she could do was hold on to the fragile hope that somehow, someone, would come to her rescue.

But then, something changed.

The pressure on her wrists vanished. With her eyes still closed, she couldn't feel the man's grip anymore. Still too scared, she hesitated. But summoning what little courage she had left, she decided to open her eyes slowly. The man was gone. In his place stood Akshay, but he looked different.

He was standing without any crutch. His face was smeared with blood, his eyes glowing with a sinister red. His once-dark hair was now stark white. His expression was blank, yet the sight of him made her fear spike to new heights. She struggled to breathe, suffocating under the weight of terror. It felt like she was going to die.

Akshay slowly walked towards her, and raised his hand toward her face.

Suddenly, Sristi bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. Light flooded the room. It was her bedroom, familiar and safe. The room was filled with her things, books, clothes, even some soft dolls. The walls were painted in soft colours, and her surroundings were no longer dark. She was still in her uniform, but she was home.

Her throat felt dry. Reaching for the water bottle on the table beside her bed, she drank desperately, gulping down the water. As her breath steadied, she noticed the small idol of lord Krishna on the table. She picked it up, clutching it tightly in her trembling hands, praying to the Nanda Gopala for peace. Her hands shook as she held Nanda Gopala close, her eyes tightly shut, silently begging for this all to be just a nightmare. A tear slid down her cheek, the fear still gripping her even as the world around her turned to normal.

Suddenly, the door to Sristi's room opened, and a young man, about 22 years old, stepped inside. Concern filled his eyes as he saw Sristi up in bed, visibly shaken. He approached her and patted her head with comforting touch.

"Sri, are you feeling better now?" he asked his voice full of care.

Sristi felt a sense of safety and warmth in his presence. She reached for his hand, holding it against her cheek, she closed her eyes and pressed his hand against her cheek, seeking reassurance. His touch could chase away the lingering fear from her nightmare.

"Thank you, Bhaiya," she whispered, a small, relieved smile appearing in her lips, as another fresh tear slipped down her cheeks.

It was her big brother, Sourav, the one who had always been there for her. He sat beside her on the bed, his gaze full of concern. Her brother knew her too well, sensing something was deeply troubling her.

"Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with the weight of concern. He brushing the tears from her cheeks with thumb. "You looked a little scared. Did something happen?"

Sourav's voice was soothing, every word laced with genuine care. Sristi felt comforted but still shaken by the remnants of her dream.

Sristi shook her head quickly, her pulse racing as if the nightmare still clung to her. "No, It's nothing. Just had a bad dream," she said, her voice cracking, but she forced a smile, trying to mask the fear still gnawing as her inside.

Her brother pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in the warmth and safety only a sibling could provide. His embrace, a shield against the lingering terror, helped calm her racing heart. "It's okay. Bad dreams don't last. You're safe here," he whispered, holding her tighter as if he could protect her from the shadows still lurking in her mind.

As he got up to leave, he turned back at the doorway with a mischievous smile. "Hey do you want something sweet?" he asked. "I brought some of you favourite Gulab Jamun."

A smile spread across her face, the weight oh her chest lightening just a little. She nodded. "Thank you. You're really the best."

"Yeah, I know I am the best," Sourav replied with a grin before heading out of her room.

Later, the two sat together on the living room sofa. Sristi had changed into some comfortable clothes, but her mind was still heavy with the remnants of her nightmare. Her brother, casual and laid-back, flicked through channels with the TV remote, yet nothing seemed to capture his attention. Sristi held a bowl with two Gulab Jamuns, her spoon resting in her other hand, but the sweetness of the dessert didn't bring the comfort it usually did. She hesitated before taking a bite, her stomach unsettled from the lingering unease.

Sourav glanced at her, his eyes softening as he noticed her distant expression. "If you're still feeling off, you should go rest," he suggested, his voice gentle with concern.

"No, I'm fine now," Sristi replied, forcing a smile as she took a spoonful of Gulab Jamun and put it in her mouth. "I just... I want to stay with you for a while."

Sourav nodded, accepting her decision without question. "Alright."

Once she finished the last bite of the sweet, her eyes drifted to her brother once more. "Hey, where's Papa?" she asked, the absence of her father feeling heavier than usual.

Sourav's expression softened, though a flicker of worry danced in his eyes. "He's in a meeting right now. Don't worry, he'll be back soon." His tone was reassuring, but there was something in his voice that hinted at a larger concern.

Before Sristi could respond, the sudden ding-dong of the doorbell shattered the quiet. The sound echoed through the house, and a surge of anticipation rushed through her. It must be Papa. She felt a spark of hope, eager to see him and push away the tension still tightening her chest.

She tossed the bowl and spoon toward Sourav, who caught the bowl with a startled look, but the spoon bounced off and hit him square in the face. He blinked in surprise, and she couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle, though her nerves still flared.

"Hey, Sri," Sourav called after her, still holding the bowl, but she was already on her feet.

"It must be Papa, I'll get it," Sristi said, her voice firm, though the adrenaline of anticipation made her words come out a little quicker than usual. She headed toward the door, her heart now racing for an entirely different reason.

But to her surprise, when she opened the door, her father wasn't there. Instead, standing in front of her were Arunika and Suraj, both dressed casually. Suraj wore black jeans and a white t-shirt, his outfit paired with matching shoes, while Arunika looked effortlessly beautiful in a pink kurta that fell just above her knees, paired with black leggings. Small earrings adorned her ears, and a delicate bindi on her forehead only enhanced her charm.

Sristi blinked in surprise, confusion knitting her brows. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice betraying her bewilderment.

"We found your bag at school and figured we'd drop it off," Arunika explained, her smile warm as Suraj handed the bag to Sristi.

"Thank you," Sristi replied gratefully, taking her bag from him, the weight of her own thoughts still lingering in her mind.

"Actually, Vani, Riya, and I were planning to come over, but Riya had to go to the hospital, her mother was taken there," Arunika added with a small frown.

Sristi's concern immediately deepened. "Is Aunty okay?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.

Arunika nodded. "Yeah, Riya said her mother blood pressure just spiked a little, but she's doing better now."

Relieved, Sristi smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Please, come in."

As she stepped aside to let them in, Sourav, curious about the unfamiliar voices, appeared at the door. He gave the two guests a polite, inquisitive look.

"Bhaiya, these are my classmates, Arunika and Suraj," Sristi introduced them, gesturing toward the pair.

Both Arunika and Suraj greeted him respectfully with a Namaste, and Sourav returned the gesture with a smile. "Namaste! I'm Sourav, Sristi's brother," he said warmly. "Please, come inside."

With that, Sristi led Arunika and Suraj to the drawing room, where they settled comfortably on the couch. Sourav, ever the attentive host, went toward the kitchen to prepare something for their guests. Sristi, after switching off the TV, joined them, sinking into the couch beside her friends.

"So, are you feeling fine now?" Arunika asked, her concern evident in her gentle tone.

"Yes, I'm fine now," Sristi replied quickly, forcing a faint smile.

"What happened to you at school?" Arunika asked again. "You've been absent for the last half of the month. We were all really worried."

Sristi's heart sank at the question. She had hoped to avoid this topic entirely. Her fingers tightly gripped the fabric of the sofa, twisting it as though seeking an anchor. The soft material crumpled under her trembling hands, betraying her inner turmoil as she debated what to say.

"I was… just not feeling well," she replied after a pause, avoiding Arunika's gaze.

"Oh, did something happen?" Arunika pressed, her brows furrowing with concern.

"No, it's nothing serious. My health just hasn't been great," Sristi said, her voice faltering, betraying the truth she was trying to hide.

Arunika tilted her head, observing Sristi carefully. "What about Nira? She hasn't been to school either," she asked, her words measured. Something about Sristi's demeanour didn't sit right with her. There was a fear lingering in Sristi's eyes that didn't seem to stem from mere illness.

At the mention of Nira's name, Sristi froze. Her expression shifted, her face pale as though she had seen a ghost. Unsettling memories clawed their way to the surface, leaving her visibly shaken.

"I… I don't know," Sristi stammered, her voice barely audible. Panic was bubbling beneath the surface now, threatening to take over.

"But didn't you and she go to meet someone named Abhinash?" Arunika asked, her tone still calm, though her gaze sharpened.

Sristi's panic spiked. Her breathing quickened as she struggled to maintain her composure. The colour drained completely from her face, and her hands trembled in her lap. She couldn't think of a response—every part of her was screaming to escape this conversation.

"Hey, hey, Sristi, calm down. Everything's okay. Just breathe," Arunika soothed, moving closer and gently placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Sristi, calm down," Suraj added as he stood and approached her. He placed his hand lightly on her other shoulder, trying to offer reassurance.

The moment Suraj's hand touched her, his expression shifted. His eyes suddenly glowed an intense white as a cascade of visions assaulted his mind.

He saw a dark room, shrouded in shadows, with five men looming within. Their faces were obscured, but one was clearly younger than the others. Sinister laughter reverberated through the space, drowning out a girl's desperate cries: "Let me go! Please, someone help me!"

Then, amidst the horror, another figure emerged. Cloaked in a black hoodie, its face was hidden in darkness except for its piercing red eyes, which burned with malevolent intensity. The men's laughter twisted into screams of agony as their forms convulsed in unbearable pain.

The vision ended as abruptly as it began. Suraj's eyes returned to normal, but his hand trembled uncontrollably. The voice of the girl in the vision echoed in his mind, sending chills down his spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that he recognized her. And the hooded figure—its presence lingered in his thoughts like a threat.

At that moment, Sourav entered the room, balancing a tray with four glasses of juice.

Sristi, sensing her brother's presence, didn't hesitate. She bolted toward him, clinging to him tightly as sobs wracked her frame. The tray slipped from Sourav's grasp, the glasses shattering on the floor in a cacophony of broken shards and spilled liquid.

"Sri, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Sourav asked, his voice laced with alarm as he held her trembling form.

"Bha… Bha… Bhaiya," Sristi sobbed, her tears soaking into his shirt as she clung to him desperately.

"Hey, calm down. Everything's fine. I'm here," he said softly, his hand gently stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe her.

Sourav glanced at Arunika and Suraj, who stood nearby, their worry evident on their faces.

"I'm sorry," Sourav said, his voice firm yet understanding. "I think it's best if you both leave. She's clearly upset because of you, and she needs some rest."

"Of course. Please take care of her," Arunika replied, her concern heavy in her voice.

Sourav nodded, his attention returning to Sristi as Arunika and Suraj exchanged a glance and quietly left.

Once outside, Arunika turned to Suraj, noticing how pale he looked. His usually composed demeanor was shaken. She knew about his ability—the strange gift that allowed him to glimpse fragments of a person's thoughts and memories when he touched them.

"Suraj, what happened?" she asked, her voice low but urgent.

"Let's go. We need to talk," Suraj said, his voice low and shaken, still reeling from the vision.

Arunika nodded, sensing the urgency in his tone. But before she could say anything more, her phone rang sharply, cutting through the silence like a jolt.

She fumbled to retrieve it, her movements tense. As her eyes landed on the caller ID, a wave of unease washed over her. Her expression darkened, and a flicker of worry flashed across her face, as her mind began to race with different thoughts.