~ Dangerous Life Ahead ~
• Book 2 of LIFE OF PANCHALI TRILOGY •
Panchali Rathore, Ex- CEO of Rathore Industries, now the Crown Princess of Hastinapur, 'forcefully' married to the mighty heroes of The Dvāpar Era, The Pandavas.
The cold, cruel, domina...
⚠️DISCLAIMER : The chapter contains black magic, manipulation, self harm, suicidal thoughts and process. Please read at your own risk.
This is just fiction and a part of imagination. Don't take anything seriously!! ⚠️
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Panchali banged the door behind, stepping inside the secret hall where her Mumma's memories were kept.
The hall was again dark, only the sunlight from the ceiling fell over the Piano.
Her chest rose and fell vigorously, as she tried to take breaths but it felt as if someone was choking her to death.
As if someone held her neck, blocking the passage of her breathing.
Tears streamed down the corner of her, while she tilted her head back. Opening and closing her mouth, she tried to breathe.
Taking a few steps away from the door, she stood in front of the Piano, feeling a strong pain in her chest.
You are heartless, Panchali. You lack the minimum amount of human emotions.
The words of Subhadra pierced her ears, as she clutched her hair, trying to stop from thinking the words.
"Ahh..." Her chest tightened in agony, as she held her head, shutting her eyes in dismay.
You are nothing but a cold hearted monster who can just throw daggers of words.
Shaking her head, she tried to dismiss the voices.
Her knees felt weak, as she slipped on the floor. Holding the Piano, she screamed in agony.
I wouldn't be surprised if someday Panchali goes out taking the lives of people.
"NOOO!!!" She shouted, while her condition was deteriorating. Trying to gulp a huge amount of breath, she again failed to do so.
Her mind echoed the loud sound of a gunshot of that night, as her Mumma fell on the floor surrounded by her own blood.
"Noo, I don't take lives... I don't take lives." She cried, her state reflecting vulnerability.
Her mind drifted to the harsh memory of how her Doll slipped from her hand, falling off the cliff in front of her own eyes. And she couldn't do anything.
Panchali again tried to breathe, parting her lips. But the passage seemed to be blocked.
Taking her Mumma's photo frame, she took out another photo from inside, her Doll.
Tracing both the photos, she broke down into tears. Hugging it, she cried hysterically.
"I am sorry, Mumma. I am so sorry. I killed you on this day, Mumma." She apologized, crying mercilessly.
"I am sorry, I couldn't save Doll also. I am sorry..." She cried and sobbed, as tears streamed down her cheeks like a waterfall.
Her kohl smudged, her nose turned red, her hair looked disheveled. She looked vulnerable to an extreme.
