The Void in Me (2) | Short Story by Rohan Biswas | Phoenix
The Void in Me (2)
My sem exams were over and I really wanted some rest, so I decided to spend a day at home and relax. But it turned out to be so scary cause Pixie was ill. Not just ill, she got maggots all around her left ear and although she was treated for it, she didn't get any better. The doctor told us not to let her go out of the house even for a minute because she always get into a fight with other cats and also get chased by horrible monsters (humans). So, I had to stay home alone with Pixie because my mom was be at her sister's place, which is close. The thing that traumatized me was the cries of Pixie. She literally couldn't stand properly but wanted to go out. And she was crying since morning. I felt helpless and cried along. Bad day.
I just reached home. And my heart is still racing. Being there, I was so tensed and scared, it felt like I'm giving an exam I was not prepared for. So, all my energy was gone and I definitely needed a good amount of rest. But I can't take rest, because my home environment isn't any better. I want to start diary writing, so that I keep track of the number of times I cried in a year, whether due to depression or joy. Also, I want to write in it about how sad and burdened I feel when the society (I mean EVERYBODY except 2-3 people) expect me to socialize, talk about the things they like to talk about (which is mostly crap), do whatever shit they want to do, think like them (also crap), get excited about going out in groups, behave like them as a "normal" person should, pretend to be happy and normal in a group setting. The list is never-ending and I feel no joy doing any of these. But I am at least kind enough to not bark at them. Also, I want to write about myself.
"Bro, you need to chill," said Srinjoy on call, "You need to cheer up!"
"I know. But I can't. Not at this moment. Not today. This month sucks. This new year sucks. I don't even want to continue college anymore or it will still be nice if some lockdown happens again."
"What are you saying, brother? It's okay. Things will get better someday."
"It won't."
"Well, hey, I want to go out and try some new, trending street food corners and make vlogs. It will be nice if you join."
"I don't think I'm in the right mindset to go out and face the world. Just want to be at home and rest and rest and rest and rest."
"You could atleast try."
"Trust me, I am tired. Really tired. But your idea is great. I'd really like to join you someday. I mean it. Give me some time"
"It's okay. Do take care of yourself."
"Hey, we are going out. Thought to take you with us," said Divya, "Be ready in few minutes, I'm booking a cab."
"Okay"
I held a slice of pizza with my right hand whereas my left hand held my phone. Both hands trembling, mind wondering what wrong did I do, also battling with my terrified legs so that I don't run away without any explanation. Those thirty minutes (after which I escaped) were equivalent to an entire month's cardio and my heart was still racing when I reached home.
"If you don't get full marks this time in your maths test, we will send you to a boarding school. So, if you want to stay with us here, then score 20/20 in your maths test tomorrow. Or else, you will be in some boarding school," Mom shouted. I got scared, started crying and begging so that they don't send me in a boarding school. I was in class one and maths was my weakness, and they got this boarding school idea from a recently released Bollywood movie which was frequently aired on TV channels.
Dear Diary,
I am an introvert and I am so against those people on Instagram or any other social media platform, who claim to be introverts but are major extroverts in real life. I guess, social media has made the term pretty cool because nowadays almost everybody wants to be perceived as an introvert. Shitheads! Anyway, when I said I am an introvert, it wasn't something shitty joke, I genuinely meant it. Honestly, it is not at all something "cool," rather it's deeply burdening and creates a deep impact on whoever is suffering from society. I know it. I feel terribly anxious to go out with people (friends, family, etc.), especially in groups. Sometimes I am so good at hiding my discomfort, but most of the time, my energy fades away just by even thinking about going out. But I be so fine and happy when I go somewhere all alone for long walks, or maybe for some good food. I like my own company, there's no pressure to act, no pressure to keep talking even there's literally nothing in my mind that I feel like saying, and by any chance I share my views on society to people, they get triggered. So, I don't allow myself to speak about my views on anything in public. That piece of thing is protected. By the way, scientifically speaking, I seriously consider humans as nothing but stupid monkeys who've destroyed themselves in the name of development. Coming back to my point, I like my own company since there's nobody I'm forced to follow whatever shit they say. Also, I am such a quiet person. I can literally be quiet and not produce a single word of any language that I know, for days! And, I have done that in the past. It is not something to be proud of, but this is the way I am and I cannot do anything about it. It is just the way I am. The number count of my active social circle is less than five (including my mom). Even five feels like a big number to me. Oh and, I guess it might seem awkward, but when I want to do something really crazy (which for me feels natural), I just do it. Even if there's a crowd. I don't care. I do things my way, for my own happiness. I may chase you down with a toy pistol or water gun if I feel like. I don't know when I may feel like doing something people can hardly think of, but once a thought enters my head, telling me to do something, I do it.
— P (17/1/26)
While writing answers for the last question, I made a huge mistake which I realized only at the end when the teacher started collecting our answer scripts. So, in that last question, we were asked to write the numbers in words, and there were only four subparts. It was very easy, but I was careless. I answered the first two correctly, but in a hurry, I copied the same for the remaining two. By the time I realized the blunder I did, my answer script got conquered by the class teacher. I won't get full marks. After a few days, we got our answer scripts back. I got 19/20. I was not happy, but terrified. I didn't get full marks. I hid the answer script in my bag and when I reached home, I didn't inform anyone about it. Out of fear of confrontation, I went to my cousin's place. When I returned in late evening, I was at my doorstep, standing. Scared as hell. Waiting for someone to open the door. I heard my mom's and brother's voice. They were loud, but I couldn't figure out what they were saying. Maybe they found the answer script. Maybe mom's angry at me since I didn't get full marks. Maybe they're going to send me to a boarding school the very next day. My eyes became watery. The door opened. I saw my mom smiling. On one hand, she had my answer script, the other hand, a ₹5 Munch chocolate wafer.
"You did well!"
Dear Diary,
When I was in class two, I had this private tutor who used to beat me a lot, and I used to cry for hours straight. I forgot to do my homework, got a beating. I mispronounced a word, got a beating. My voice was low or unclear, got a beating. Cried because I was bleeding since he beat me really hard, got a beating. He used to beat the shit out of me. Sometimes with his bear hands with long, sharp nails, sometimes with his umbrella, sometimes with my study table. Sometimes even punching me on the stomach. This entire thing impacted me so much, that even my body started to react upon his arrival. My stomach ached miserably for many days, only during the exact time when he was about to come. Everybody thought I was just acting. I was not. Thankfully, my grandma stood by my side. She made sure that that sick teacher never enters our doorstep ever again. Now, when I look back, I realize that it was really my body protesting. My brain sensed danger. It felt unsafe around that man. So, my body protested. My grandma helped.
— P (23/2/26)
I guess it was evening when I opened my eyes, because there was darkness all around. I felt the pain again that time. I couldn't move, I could not sit or stand. Even lying on my bed seemed devastating at that point. I didn't eat anything since morning. Had only a few glasses of water. I was imagining things. I was hearing things. I heard voices in my head, whispers that didn't let me sleep well. I then shouted. Not in pain, but because I was hungry. I was unable to eat properly. I shouted and shouted. I shouted loudly and after a few minutes I realized that I was alone. I cried.
Dear Diary,
It was midnight. My mom lay facing me, trying to sleep, while I sat upright. Crying silently. No sound. Just tears falling endlessly, unnoticed in the dark as I held my breath steady.
— P (5/3/26)
My sleep was suddenly disturbed, and I woke up to my mother crying out my name. Her voice was trembling, desperate. At the same time, I could hear the continuous, sharp tick-tock of the clock, clearly. Everything around me was completely dark, and I was sweating. Within seconds, I realized it was because of a power cut. My mother was trying to wake me up because she was petrified. From outside, I could hear people shouting, screaming, fighting. Something was terribly wrong. It felt like some kind of communal riot had broken out in the middle of the night. We moved toward the balcony. The entire locality had lost power. Darkness had swallowed everything. I looked down at the streets below and saw men marching in large numbers, carrying fire mashaals. They were fighting, beating, killing whoever they could find alive. Then I saw a girl. She was trying to escape. She almost made it, climbing up toward a balcony, reaching for safety, but some men grabbed her. They pulled her down. And what followed, was horrifying. They raped her, and she was killed instantly. It was complete chaos. Pure, uncontrollable violence. And through it all, the tick-tock of the clock continued, clear and constant, cutting through everything. Then suddenly, we heard loud bangs on our door. We panicked. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and slowly walked toward the door. The tick-tock of the clock was still crystal clear, echoing in my ears with every step I took. My heart was racing. I reached the door and looked through the eye hole. It was completely dark outside. I couldn’t see anything. I quickly turned on the outside door light and looked again. This time, I saw it. A figure was standing there. It was wearing a hoodie. I couldn’t see its face. But in its hand, it was holding an axe. Panic surged through me. I instinctively looked down at the lock. The door was not locked. And the tick-tock of the clock was still clearly audible.
— Phoenix
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