Her Fantasies

6. ruined ⛈️

Trigger warning ⚠️

This chapter contains self-harm, which is not advisable.

In this Chapter

-1-
I stand in front of the mirror, a dark red scare on my cheekbone draw my attention.

-2-
My blood leaves a stain on his cheeks, and I feel satisfied seeing my blood on his cheek-a symbolic representation of how I have gained control over my dominion.

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It's an undeniable truth that we choose who we want to become, whether it be good or bad, bathed in darkness or radiating with brightness, chillingly cold or warmly inviting. Despite yearning for all that is good in life, I find myself inexplicably drawn to the depths of my dark, cold, and sinister side. Embracing the darkness, releasing me from the chains of morality, granting me the freedom to indulge in whatever I desire without hesitation.

It's been 21 days since Ram and I broke up. I am on the verge of moving on. I received an invitation three days ago, and it's been weighing heavily on my mind ever since. So, I decided to burn it. The red wedding card is now half black, and ashes fly all over as the wind blows. A small piece of burning paper touches my cheekbone, leaving a burn mark on my skin. Just then, a quick summer rain shower falls, and the fire is extinguished. I can still see the name written on the card: 'Ram weds Tanu' my ex is getting married.

Patting my hair dry, I stand in front of the fan to let the blades dry my hair faster. The fan spins rapidly, matching the pace of my heartbeats. I want to stop my racing heart, but this fan has an oddly alluring effect on me. I can't take my eyes off it, and the more I stare, the more anxious I become. In a strange impulse, I decide to hold the fan blade. As I bring my hand closer, a cracking sound fills the air. The fan suddenly comes to a halt, and my heart feels less anxious. However, I notice my hand is bleeding, and there are cut marks on all four fingers of my left hand except the thumb. I see myself bleed, I can feel the pain, my hand shivers, but strangely, I feel satisfied.

My freshly changed grey kurti is staining with my blood. I collect my blood in a container, and the flow is still heavy. I perform first aid, securing each finger with bandages separately. The pain is becoming severe now. The amount of force my fingers had to bear was too much, but, no bones are broken. I am not taking pain killer because I want to experience every neurological signal my brain is sending to my fingers, I am feeling all of it.

Even a menstrual cycle takes 28 days to shed another layer, but Ram takes only 21 days to move on from his ex and get ready to marry another. The pivot of my anger and the hurricane I feel inside is because of the letter Ram sent me with the wedding invitation. Now it's time to write a letter to him in reply. I am writing the letter with the blood I collected earlier from my cuts. He, by all means, wants to conquer over me. He hates it when his maiden slips off his hand and he loses control over her. He can plan a whole wedding just to put me in my place.

After writing a bloody letter as a wedding gift for my ex, I need to decide on an outfit. As I see red, I grab my red sarara, but as I feel dark, I am gravitated to black. So, I pick a black lehenga, a pair of skirt and blouse with a scarf. I lay them on the bed and try to figure out what I really want: Ram or retribution? When I stand in front of the mirror, a dark red scar on my cheekbone draws my attention. It's the burnt mark from the paper I flung, shaped like a star but with 3 spikes instead of 5. Today, I have a wedding to attend, or perhaps to ruin.