Footsteps clamour through an otherwise silent hallway. A little unsteady, but determined, they march. The pungent air of disinfectant assaults their senses, fidgety, reminded of death.

Hand in hand gripped so rigidly. Not even air could pass between their interlocked fingers. Holding on to not lose themselves in the nonexistent crowd, but the crowd of thought ever-present.

Prachi knew the thoughts running amuck in Shahana's mind. As she gripped her hand tight, severing any circulation. This is the reason that she had told her to stay home before. Being home alone was distressing, but this, this was worse.

Shahana even heard Prachi wince because of how tightly she was holding on. Yet she could not find it in herself to loosen her grip or to let go.

She had once, waving goodbye as they kissed her goodnight, telling her to be good for Maasi, promising her they would return soon, they never did.

Instead, she went to them at a hospital as plain as this, reeking of this exact smell. She wanted to see them. Mumma and Papa were hurt. Shahana didn't know how, she wanted to see them but no one would let her, only ten years old at the time.

"Hugs make all pain disappear." Her Mumma used to say, wrapping her up in her arms as her papa made silly faces to cheer her up. On the numerous occasions that she had scraped herself playing a bit too roughly with her friends.

Similarly, in her childish mind, Shahana had wanted to hug them, holding the belief that it could perhaps dissipate their pain too. Instead, it was only Pragya who hugged her, caressed her hair, and held her then tiny hand. Unable to explain, sobbing and hugging her. The only one left to hold her- since their hands, their hands would never again hold hers.

"The wave returned to the ocean", the concept of death her Maasi had explained. Water still, forever-.

"Miss Arora, please. You cannot leave." Shahana blinks back the tears in her eyes, here now, existing before a closed door. Not gone, alive- her voice.

"It's Mrs Mehra- I need to see my daughter." Pragya's voice comes through, and a wave of relief washes over the both of them. Only her voice is a melody; they are yet to hear the lyrics.

Prachi moved to open the door, Shahana held her hand in a vice, as though a vine. No words of comfort, only a squeeze in return. Eyes tilted softly, a silent reassurance- everything will be fine.

Everything is fine.

They scamper in, steps gliding across the tiled floor. Prachi's hand, at last, released as Shahana gallops into Pragya's arms, the moment she lays eyes on her. Tears flow freely, an ocean of relieving sorrow.

Four arms entrap around Pragya, suffocatingly wound, akin to vines in a forest of darkness and confusion. Her arms remain slack.

"Uh- please don't cry... it- it's alright." Pragya's arms do eventually wrap around them to offer comfort, it's her empathic nature. Though her arms don't hold them as they used to before. Instead, hesitant, foreign.

Her brows pinched together, eyes struggling to see the two faces hidden over her shoulders. Am I mistaken? Are they mistaken?

"You're alright, so everything is alright." Prachi pulled back first, smiling weakly, tears still cascading down her cheeks. Taking hold of Pragya's casted hand, caressing Shahana's hair. Shahana still clings to Pragya, fearful that she would be swept away into the ocean.

It's easier for Prachi to compose herself, it's always been this way. Whereas Shahana allows her tears to engulf her, Prachi's are more silent. Her emotions, analogous to the waves that crash upon a boulder, and fall back into the sea of calm, never truly emerging, stifled. To cater to the emotions of others, selfless, it's her nature.

"Who- are -you?"

In one breathy whisper, all the waves collided and formed a raging hurricane of confusion. The smile on Prachi's face vanished.

Shahana pulled back, arms unwinding, tear tracks on her face, eyes lost in confusion. "What?"

"I'm sorry- I just need my daughter." The desperation in Pragya's voice is unmistakable, eyes full of tears. She's racked her brain over the last five minutes to pinpoint if she had seen these two faces before, nothing came to memory. To her, they are only strangers.

They seem to know her. Why don't I know them? Pragya doesn't know. She only needs her Kiara, then everything will be fine. If she were to only catch a glimpse of her doll, then she'll be reassured her nightmare was untrue.

"Mumma I'm right here!" Prachi cupped Pragya's face, confused, Perhaps her mom had not seen her- but Shahana was as much Pragya's daughter as she was. So why would she ask such a question?

Fear ceased both Shahana and Prachi's hearts as they waited for Pragya to respond. Say something, anything.

Pragya's brows shot up to her hairline at that. Observing the two girls, particularly the one who held her face. She was about the age of a teenager. Did- did a teen just call me Mumma?!

Pragya Mehra was only 28 years old for God sake. Deep worry lines appeared on her forehead, visible even through the bandage affixed atop. She couldn't have a teen, she only had a seven-year-old daughter.

Observing, calculating, silent. Calm like the sea before a storm. Studying both of their features, trying to make sense of this. Pragya's hesitant hand cupped Prachi's cheek. Prachi smiled hopefully, but hope is a fickle thing.

Pragya chuckled, airly. "Did she put you up to this?- I swear, that girl and her pranks are getting out of control. Where is she, huh? She loves hiding from me- but please tell her to come out now."

Pragya's eyes dance across the room in happiness, expecting Kiara to appear out of thin air, she won't.

"Tell who?" Shahana finds her voice to ask, after a whole minute of confused silence.

Pragya rolls her eyes, shaking her head, giving her a pointed stare that seems so familiar, yet somehow lacks any familiarity.

Jamais vu.

"Stop pretending alright, you've been caught. You can't protect her from me for long, my daughter Kiara is going to be receiving a lecture from me today. She promised, no more pranks, she's a big sister now. She proclaimed that she was going to be a "role model" for the twins. But I guess old habits are hard to break, huh?"

Pragya's laughter echoes in waves in the confined space of the hospital room. A prank is an idea her muddled mind chooses to grasp onto. Anything else is too complex to comprehend. A reality where her Kiara ceased to exist, her mind had erased. Twenty years lost, and as repetitive history goes, her other children once again became merely collateral damage.

She not only forgot the parting of Kiara, her reality. She forgot the last twenty years spent with them. Them who gape at her, attempting to decipher her words. Hearts churning in fruition.

Kiara, that beautiful name- it belonged to...my sister? Tears flow down Prachi's cheeks again. Heavier, quicker, harder to compose, but the waves crash upon a boulder once more, and she's already flicking her tears away. Keeping a strong persona, calm and collected, erratic emotions internalized.

Prachi locked eyes with Shahana and could discern the same sorrow in her eyes. Something was awfully wrong, they knew.

Get the doctor. Prachi mouthed to Shahana as not to alert Pragya. Shahana nodded and hesitantly stood up but stopped in her tracks, as Pragya's voice came from behind.

"Are you going to get my Kiara?"

Both Shahana and Prachi bit their lips to stop the sobs that wanted to escape.

How can I tell you that we have never heard of her before today?

"Ye- yes." Prachi falsely proclaimed as a wave of sorrow crashed into her, guilty for telling an untruth. But a smile covered Pragya's face.

---Fading In The Sun---

For a human living in water was as good as a fish surviving on land. It stays alive for a couple of seconds, then has a seizure as its body looks for ways to force air into its gills and then dies.

Motionless.

Running through the water, on the other hand, was a tenacious want, a stubborn desire to win. A bird possessed that expertise that flaky humans do not. It worked all year round to build a nest for itself and its children. The weather wasn't an obstacle, it was a loyal companion reminding the animal of what it was fighting for; a shelter to protect them from the dangers of the outside world.

Ardent.

Floating on the water was a different sensation altogether. It was peace and tranquillity ruling without the threat of sinking in its own tears of sorrow. A lion, King of the jungle, relished in this powerful virtue every waking moment. The rest of the kingdom dropped a curtsy just at its yawn, the time of revivifying.

Indomitable.

Riya wanted to embody his spirit of dauntlessness. She didn't want to bow before her spiralling self. She wanted to take hold of its leash, tame its wild propensities towards a lack of self control - control of her anxiety inducing thoughts playing a game of tag. Then again, want and need are two polarised things.

Riya felt like she was on a soft malleable mattress, sinking further and further with each breath. There was a weight pressing down on her chest and no matter how much she tried to scream, no words came out and no matter how much she struggled, the pressure only grew higher in pascals.

Sinking in the waters she claimed wanting command over.

When the brain, mind, body, soul and spirit are all overloaded, the only shot at survival is running. And so she ran towards wonderland like Alice had - a wonderland filled with answers that would blow out her circuits and restore them to a workable condition.

If only it were that simple. The ocean is a playful entity; its waves twisted, crashed, reared back and swallowed those who crossed its path like a round of Russian roulette - an outcome unknown.

Riya stumbled into the hospital gates, looking less than worn- quivering hands loosely grasping the melted ice pack, unsteady feet, irregular heartbeat, body covered in cold sweats and eyes glazed over with uncertainty. Prachi's mother...where...where is she?

She vaguely remembered there was an immaculate hallway that led to the room for recuperation. The lights were far too bright for Riya to decipher where that stretch of rooms was located in this gargantuan building with over ten floors. It stung her iris as she scanned her surroundings. The lobby was filled with faces that Riya didn't know- the one she longed to see was nowhere in sight. It made the room crowded and squeezy. Too hot. She took in breaths with an arrhythmic pattern. The cacophonous sounds made by the unwelcoming place was giving her a pulsating headache as she struggled to find her footing.

Dickensian minds can be fixed. They can become flawlessly operative again. All she needed was a little comfort and understanding; a grounding factor to her distraught mental state that painted the image of a lunatic standing in the middle of a hospital lobby. It was fitting, not unerring.

All she received was a storm spinning around her, blocking her higher mind from taking control. She loved the calm between the storms, it gave her respite. But without knowing when the previous uproar of sand had passed, she could not relax. In her own self made delusional world, Prachi's mother was still in danger- still hanging in between life and death- and Riya was the culprit for her residence in limbo.

She was driving around the mortuary of steadiness over and over again in circles, going faster with each round completed. Stability was losing a battle against perturbation.

Carefreeness was supposed to be dominant in the halcyon days of pre-adulthood. It was such a pity that her days were spent religiously carving out an audacious depiction for herself. In the mix, she forgot what functionality was. That was the reason in this trepidation driven frenzy, she didn't know how to appease the Greek goddess Oizys. The Greek goddess was meant to be a short term guest. She was there to provide a new perspective for Riya to analyze and adapt to accordingly. The twenty-year-old didn't expect her to stay and torment her- all for her own sick pleasure.

Suddenly, it stopped. All was calm, almost serene. it would have been perfect if it wasn't for three figures bleeding out and calling out for...help? In Front of her. They laid on the wet road, bruised and battered, a belligerent injury imprinted on every one of their limbs. She couldn't hear them, only stared as their mouth moved and blood dripped down the corner of it. She didn't know who those three people were but she was in front of a burning car and another face down in a ditch. It looked like a brutal accident had occurred when making a sharp turn onto the exit road. The couple called out one last time before shutting their eyes, chest failing to rise and fall another time. She stood there dazed trying to figure out what she was witnessing.

The scene was all but the same as how her own car had severed off the straight path and hit a woman- Prachi's mom. She had a reason; it didn't make a difference. The wheel was in her hand and pedal under her soul, turning and pressing respectfully as she drove.

Blood was shed and Riya was the perpetrator. Pain was felt and Riya was the aggressor. A loss had been suffered and Riya was the robber.

The words rushed past her in a jumbled mess of syllabus and she couldn't keep up.

She needed to find her and make sure that the woman was safe, that she wasn't going to die like these people. She had to find the hospital. She tried to move her legs but her mind had forgotten how they were used. The presence of Oziys was magnifying, seizing her cerebrum functions.

The nurses pushed past her still frame causing her to lose balance. The scene melted away and Riya was back in the lobby, alone in a sea of people too busy to notice her discomfort. For a split second, her reflexes kicked in and she tried to break her fall, hands brace infront of her.

As it turns out, she didn't need to. There was a pair of arms holding her up, preventing her from plummeting onto the ground. She looked up at the person. Riya squinted her eyes at the figure, trying to figure out where she had seen her before.

"Sha...Shazia?" she wheezed out amidst blurry vision.

"Close enough. Shahana."

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to grab as much oxygen as she could. "R-right. Prachi's sister." Prachi's sister. Miss Arora's daughter. "Miss Arora-" the bed she nests in sinks a tad bit more.

Sweat pooled on her forehead and nausea quickly followed. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was a spectator of her own life; standing in a tight bubble, immobilized by her thoughts, watching herself make sense of the happenings around in vain.

Shahana knows what this is, has since the age of ten. Waking up in the middle of the night, screaming for two people who won't return no matter how much agony she was in and unable to breathe. The world closed in on her as she scrambled to pick a sturdy corner that would offer protection from the rubble tarnishing around her. She was endangered by the ones helping her or herself, she didn't know, not until much later. At that time, however, she fought with whoever tried to lay a hand on her, comforting or not, she couldn't tell- much like what Riya was doing now, swinging her arms and legs wildly to stop Shahana from bringing her away from the crowd.

It got better over time but she would never forget what it felt like to have your body burning in a shrill sensation that made one want to skin themselves. She was feeling it right now, having just met the aunt who had raised her since the age of a decade but bore no recollection of who she or her daughter was. She didn't have the strength to hear the doctor giving them false hope of recovery. She empathised with the falling girl before her and knew she had to help irrespective of their differences. Maybe it would give her something else to focus on other than the all-embracing fear of losing someone important gnawing at her.

Once in the empty corridor where the normal care units -wards as they were called- were, she pushed Riya down onto a chair as she continued to thrash around. "Prachi...mother...Miss Arora."

Shahana chucked her truncated sentences as a product of her panicked state, choosing to focus on calming her down first. A mistake repeated twice. "What's your name?" She asked, momentarily forgetting. "Oh yes. Riya. Riya, listen to me. Focus on my voice."

Riya, still giddy, paid no heed. Blood. Her hands had blood. She shoved Shahana off her and started scraping at her head, her injured wrist whimpered in protest but she didn't care. There was wine-red liquid on her hands and she needed to get it off. Why isn't it getting off?

Blood travelled through a body as a red warrior, a saviour clad in red, fated to save and fill a heart as much as it should.

Yet, here it was tainted on her hands, removed from the body it gave life to. This was bloodshed, the mark of a devil, a life assassinator.

"Alright queen of mean, kid gloves are off," Shahana declared, getting to her feet and dusting the dirt on her clothes from being sent to the floor. She swung her bag to her front and fished for the fidget cube in the pile of useless items she brought along. Carefully prying open her tinted palms she replaced the melted ice pack that Riya had gripped onto all the way with the cube. "Riya can you hear me?"

Shahana moved to cup her cheeks and get her to maintain eye contact. "Can you hear me?"

Hands didn't invade her vision any longer but there were two on her cheeks- they didn't belong to her. They belonged to Shazia. What was she doing here? Her mouth moved to form words and Riya tried to turn her attention to making them out.

Hear me.

Riya nodded her head keeping her eyes with Shahana's warm brown ones. This was it, understanding and comfort. Riya latched on to it, using it as an anchor to swim against the waves that took no break from colliding with the shores.

"Good. follow my breathing," She said demonstrating the act of taking deep breaths and dressing them through their nose, all while occasionally pressing her palms to provide sensory stimulation. "You're doing great. In and out."

"I...Prachi's mom... I didn't mean to...it wasn't supposed to happen...the car...I didn't mean to hit her," the panicked girl tried to explain between breaths. The fog was clearing and voicing out her thoughts made them echo softer in her head. She could keep her goal on the here and now.

Shahana wasn't necessarily a class topper but was street smart enough to put together what Riya-the person who was at the wheel- had just said. In a swift motion, she was pushing her away and getting to her feet.

Riya Mehra, her arch-nemesis was the reason her second mother didn't remember who she was. This girl was the reason her massi was nothing more than a stranger to her. The woman who raised her couldn't give her more than a reluctant pat and whispered smile because of this girl.

It was unintentional, but Shahana remained unaware.

The tides washed over her and left the sting of bees all over her curvaceous body. The venom injected itself in her. She didn't use a first aid item to scrape out the stingers. She let them spread like a deep current water stream - uncontrolled and disorganized.

She wanted revenge. She wanted this person to pay for taking away the one closet she had to a parent figure, for making her feel like that ten-year-old who lost everything and didn't know until she saw them slumbering peacefully in what was called a mortuary.

Limp, lips blue, cheeks ashen, eyes closed- never to experience the sunrays again.

Massi wouldn't want that for her. Revenge was a rampage with chains dragging behind tarnishing the road built for redemption, bitterness seeped into every crack, lacquering it with coal. She could walk back with retribution being the scalding of her feet. The agony would be bearable; screaming, crying and begging for mercy but she would make it out alive. Pragya would give Shahana that look. A look only a disappointed mother could perfect and the child would hang their head in shame. That she couldn't bear, a knowing expression of emotional immaturity. she couldn't let it appear on Pragya's face because she mattered - too much.

Prachi wouldn't want that either. Shahana could come up with all the reasons and excuses she wanted to. She could try and justify picking this collection of rusted nails with blood on their edge. Her sister wouldn't have any of it. Her sister - the only person who she had left- wouldn't want Shahana to do something that couldn't represent her best nor display what she would have been capable of. A girl with the heart of gold. She mattered- too much.

Massi had always told her not to wish bad upon others for they never know when the devil is tuning in. she said to find the right tone filled with warmth and compassion- kill them with kindness.

Shahana gulped and slowly bent down to Riya. She would regret this later, helping a killer whose target was Pragya. She couldn't help it. This wasn't what they would have wanted. Neither would she be able to sleep at night knowing that she left a defenceless teenager in dire need of help.

Then again, how can I sleep knowing that I helped the person who sent massi into this state?

The cube had done its magic as Riya fiddled around with it. The intense part was over but the process wasn't done. "Listen to my voice," She coached, keeping the rage out of her voice- empathic. "You are having a panic attack. But it's okay. I am going to help you."

Riya tracked her every move. "O..okay." she didn't register the push earlier, mind occupied with the thought of the woman she had run over. She was anxious but the waves had passed. She could breathe a little freely. There was something in her hand, a three-dimensional square. She continued playing with it and listening to Shahana's instructions.

She moved to the seat next to Riya, gently caressing her head. "Count my fingers.'' She forwarded her free hand to Riya's own unoccupied hand. The girl didn't say the numbers out but Shahana knew she was counting with the way her lips moved and Riya jumped from one finger to another.

The shaking was decreasing at a satisfactory rate. They continued for a while before Riya became a little out of breath.

"Breath, it's fine, you're okay."

Her soul returned and along with it the primitive need to mask herself- to be the person they thought her to be. She couldn't quite get it right, however. The mind was still healing.

"I am breathing!" She snapped before responding with a panicked, "Am I breathing?"

Shahana gritted her teeth. "Shut up and focus on it. If you die, I don't want to be anywhere near the crime scene."

"We are surrounded by cameras." Riya pointed out, the bubble wrap loosened. She couldn't let her guard down now. This vulnerability was leverage undue.

"Exactly. So don't die on me. I have enough problems to deal with thanks to you."

"Well Shazia, I suppose one of them would be this attitude."

That was the last straw for Shahana. She detached the hand that was pressing her hands and got to her feet. Riya was fine now, or at least no longer panicking to the point of unconsciousness being a risk. She didn't have to be here anymore. "Don't worry ninnyhammer. Once I'm done, my attitude will be the least of your worries."

"What does that even mean?" Riya asked, confused.

Before Shahana could reply, they heard a loud crash followed by screaming from the room Pragya was residing in. Without thinking twice, they bolted to the room. Side by side, in lockstep with each other.

The waves decided to uproar once again, a warning to the suspecting humans trudging towards a road that had no return.

---Fading In The Sun---

Wandering, searching, lost in the sea of people. One minute chasing after Riya, another aimless. He's lost sight of her. Though that is a common occurrence for him- losing sight, blinded by his ignorance and rage.

Those who learn from other people's mistakes are wise. Those who learn on their own are reflective. Those who make the same mistake over and over are fools of their own making.

Abhishek was from the third category; a fool rotting in his handmade hell. His own unbecoming was similar to a fool seesawing a tree branch he sits upon- his own downfall.

They say ignorance is bliss. It could be the reason why he was so indulgent of it. Selective about what he chose to believe- always the wayward current. Swept up by the waves of impulsivity, misconstruing a lighthouse for delusion, then left to wonder why the sun went dark on him. His ignorant bliss can not last any longer. All delusions must shatter someday. Someday is today.

He perceives Riya in the crowd simultaneously as Shahana had caught her, leading her away. An onlooker, losing sight of them once more. Not that he would be of help anyways.

Squeezed in the cramped yet fluid sea of people, incapable of proceeding further. The tides led him where he should be, a crash, a scream, a gust of wind. A door adjacent to him flung open. The waves collided, but waves, they were not, ever.

His arms extend to wound around a plummeting figure, pulled inward. Then pushed backwards. In direct confrontation, eye to eye, she was dishevelled, he was stunned.

"Where is she?!" Pragya screamed, the hold on his collar was weak but forceful. Tears rolled down her face, unbounded. Her eyes drowned in anguish and rage as they locked with him.

Her eyes, not the eyes of a hopeless lover. They were the eyes of a mother whose child had been taken away from her, a mother scorned.

His eyes, bewildered, captivated, gazing helplessly. His eyes, that of a lover, parched after twenty years' rift. A smile lights up his face, tears shining in his eyes. Shifting forth to grab her hand. But her hand she snatched away, as though his touch had scorched her.

"Where is she?!" Pragya cried out once more, anguish encompassing, though weaker, energy-depleting. He promised.

He heeds the erratic waves now, in the footsteps that come surging forward, in confusion that besieges- a wave unavoidable if only, he heeded to them earlier.

"Who?" A merely whispered question, almost unheard if not for the deafening silence that just fell over the room, occupying five.

Abhishek and Pragya stood in the centre-middle. Prachi was in the further right, Riya and Shahana barely crossed the threshold. All silent observers of the scene playing out before them- observers of the carefully threaded reality of twenty years unwinding.

A shove and beating his chest only caused him only a speck of the pain she felt- feels. "You promised!" A quivering breath in. "You promised."

There is a throb of distress in her head. He broke his promise...again.

It's almost pitiful that he has to think about which promise she is referring to. After all, there weren't many he kept but a shameful amount that he broke.

"Our daughter, Kiara!"

With that declaration, the wind was knocked out of all the occupants in the room. Eyes filled with confusion and betrayal snap towards each other, trying and failing to comprehend the meaning of that or rather, unable to accept the comprehension of thought.

Our?

Daughter?

My father. Our father.

Prachi and Riya share a small glance before immediately moving their eyes back towards the arguing couple. Our parents.

The sun chose to shine displeasing through the hospital room- the truth smiles at them in a way so uncertain but for sure in its pursuit to let the waves take over, it was nothing but definite.

"You... killed- her." A shriek of a sob and horrified by a simple utterance, certain memories penetrate. Too much. Her skull is splitting in half, blinding pain.

The darkness of the ocean drags her in. Plummeting, peaceful, surrendering, yet the waves rage on.

A/N: Don't forget to R&R!