Aanya's POV
I found myself again in that familiar cell. The cold, damp walls surrounded me as a constant reminder of my confinement.
I can't see anything in this complete blackness, and there was silence throughout the gloom. My eyes were strained, but it was ineffective. The only sound that was present was the faint echo of my breathing. My hands were tightly bound when I attempted to move them to feel around. My legs were tightly bound as well, just as I remembered. My breathing becomes erratic. I don't want to be here again. I don't want to be here after what I've been through. My eyes began to tear up in the corners. I want to scream my lungs out to release the pent-up frustration and fear that have consumed me.
As my panic intensified, I desperately tried to gather my thoughts and find a way to calm myself down.
All I can do is sit, wait, and hope that someone will help me. Someone will find me and help me through this terrifying ordeal. But never once did anyone come to my rescue; no one came to help me get out of this hell. My tormentor continued to keep me captive, subjecting me to unspeakable horrors. They love the pain they inflict on me, reveling in my suffering.
As time passed, I tried to control my frantic breathing and keep calm. I closed my eyes to block out the darkness and keep myself from panicking. I focused on regulating my breath, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, in an attempt to calm myself amidst the overwhelming fear that engulfed me. I know if I get a panic attack, no one will come to save me.
After some time, I heard a faint sound, which I couldn't decipher initially. I strained my ears to hear more, and gradually the sound became clearer. It was the sound of the cell door opening that made my heart race with hope and fear.
I shouted for help, hoping that someone would help me escape this misery.
"HELP! Help me, please!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, hoping that somebody would hear me and come to rescue me. But no one responded. I repeated my plea for help several times, but there was still no answer. As the door creaked open, I could see a sliver of light shining through, giving me hope.
A figure appeared at the door, casting a shadow in the cell. However, because the light was behind him, I couldn't make out any details. After some time, he entered the cell. The inmate's silhouette was that of a large-framed man, giving off an ominous vibe. I couldn't make out many features, and that made me even more fearful. My heart races as he approaches me, and I try to move away from him, but the ropes restrict my movements. Sweat began to bead on my forehead; tears were constantly flowing from my eyes; and I felt a lump form in my throat. A sense of dread crocheted in my stomach as the man came closer to me.
He is here again, and I am again in his grip. The fear and terror I experienced at that moment were overwhelming.
No, no, no, NO... I don't want to be with him in this closed room. He looms over me, his presence suffocating and menacing. He has come to inflict pain on me that is far worse than the pain imposed by the devil on sinners. He is more evil than any devil in the universe.
He came near my ear and whispered in a low, menacing voice, "I got you, my doll".
NOOO!" I woke up with a soul-shattering scream that left my throat involuntary from the fear; my body was covered in a cold sweat, and my heart was pounding.
After calming my heart rate and taking deep breaths, I realized that it was just a nightmare, which was once a reality but now only lives in my memory. Reminding me every day what the hell looks like on this earth. I may have freed myself from those demons, but every day, the demons that reside within me are a constant reminder of the darkness I once endured. They won't let me forget the horrors I went through and the scars that still linger in my soul.
This is the harshest truth of this world: criminals and perpetrators of evil often leave the scar of their actions on the victim's soul. They suffer their whole lives; they fight their whole lives with the demons that reside within them; and they suffer daily from the nightmares that once were their reality.
It's way easier to destroy someone's life, but at the same time, it is the hardest to rebuild and heal them from the trauma inflicted upon them. A person who has experienced such horrors will carry the weight of their past with them as the nightmares and memories continue to haunt their present existence.
I covered my face with my hands and let tears flow freely down my cheeks, but I didn't know when I started crying. I cried my heart out, letting out all my fears, trauma, and sadness. After some time, I manage to compose myself and remind myself that it's just a nightmare. How I wished that it was just the figment of a nightmare, but unfortunately, it was a reality I once endured.
I look towards the window, noticing it is still dark outside. I faced the clock on my bedside table, realizing it was only 4 a. m.
I decided to get out of bed as my thoughts are so overwhelming that I will not be able to go back to sleep. This had become a routine for me-waking up in the middle of the night due to nightmares and flashbacks of my traumatic experience.
I walk towards the kitchen and start making myself a cup of tea to soothe my nerves, but my mind keeps going back to the nightmare.
I rented this medium-sized apartment after I was released from prison for a crime I didn't commit. This is a one-bedroom apartment with minimal furniture.
It feels empty and lonely, just like most of the time I feel disconnected and isolated from the world, despite being physically present. I became a quiet person after the deaths of my parents, but after the experiences, I went through in prison, I became more reserved and distant.
I walk towards the window with my cup of tea and peer out into the darkness. The city was quiet, with only a few cars on the road and the occasional sound of a dog barking from a distance.
***************************************************************
Standing in front of a skyscraper with its illuminated window. I am reminded of that night when my best friend was stabbed to death in this same place.
I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of loss and sorrow.
This is the same place, the same location, where she was murdered. I put white roses, which I bought myself, on the spot where she was found. White roses were her favorite among all the flowers; she used to say that they symbolized innocence and purity.
Despite the darkness that surrounds me, I can't help but feel a sense of comfort at this moment.
She was the only person left after the deaths of my parents. She was the only person with whom I could share my thoughts and secrets, but now she is gone, leaving me alone in this world again.
And the most heartbreaking part of it was that I was accused of her murder. The only thought of harming her brought tears to my eyes and filled me with rage and frustration.
They were so desperate that they even turned me into the killer of my own best friend.
For the sake of power, they murdered a person and snatched the soul of another.
I was devastated after hearing the news of her death, and I didn't know how to deal with the pain. So, I choose to isolate myself and drown in my sorrow and guilt. I didn't notice when they framed me and accused me of her murder. I was brought back to my senses when I was shifted to prison. After my first night in prison, I was brought back to my senses only to be wreathed in physical pain, which was imposed on me.
I got special treatment in prison, but it was not the kind of special treatment anyone would ever dream of. It was meant to make me suffer, and I did.
I realized before I realized it that I had begun serving time for a crime I had not committed. I was unaware of the entire trial's proceedings.
I satin is in the same place where she was murdered. I felt a presence beside me like she was with me. This realization brought a sad smile to my face.
I turned my head towards her, and there she sat with a gentle smile on her face as if she were trying to console me and tell me that everything would be fine.
In this moment of intense grief and despair, the presence of my departed best friend provided a bittersweet sense of solace and reassurance.
I take an oath in front of you, my friend, that I will not rest until I make every person suffer for the sin they committed, including those who framed me and destroyed my life.
I placed a kiss on my fingers and touched the floor beneath me, tears streaming down my face, promising to seek justice for her and clear my name.