The Last Wish

 "Excuse me Ma'am, your autograph please," a soft excited voice asked me.

I smiled and looked up from the book I was reading, and froze in shock. 

The girl.. she looked so much like her. Painful memories struck me like a thousand knives. The little girl, hardly a day over seven, held out my first book to me, opened at a page with the title staring back at me. In her other hand she gripped a long, blue and pink fluffy pen with a butterfly on top.

I couldn't stop staring at her, and her mother standing behind her gave me an uneasy look, whereas the little girl beamed and blurted out, " I'm your biggest fan, Ms. Rachna! My mummy reads your books to me every night before bedtime ".

I gave her a shaky smile and asked her name. "Mina" she replied shyly.

I blinked and thought, "The name too... so similar to hers..."

I took the pen and wrote,

To dearest Mina, With love Rachna Rajput

I almost added  '' P.S I hope you will forgive me", but stopped myself. No, this wasn't Nina.

I looked at the girl and smiled. She looked so much like Nina, my dead cousin. Thin, almost delicate, with long dark hair, skin of the lightest shade and soft blue eyes.

Reincarnation. The word popped into my head.

I looked up at her mom disapprovingly. The woman was short, a little on the plumper side with broad shoulders, short light mossy brown hair and close set brown eyes. Not at all like her daughter. I didn't like her at all.

My books were not child friendly, strictly eighteen and above. A mixture of dark humor, lies, death and hatred. Books that you would love to hate. Yet Mina's mom read them to her. Proof of a sick mind.

I suddenly felt protective of the child.

The mother looked at me and caught hold of Mina's hand and pulled her, taking her away. Mina looked back at me - the child's eyes, suddenly not so innocent, filled with pity. Did she know my secret?

                                             ___________________________________

I sat alone at my table under an umbrella, in the only cafe in the small town that I lived in. I paid for the cocoa, threw my book into my bag and ran to my car. I wanted to go home. Hide there. The pain of forgotten memories was slowly numbing my senses. A teardrop slipped from the corner of my eye as I got behind the wheel and brought the car to life.

I went as fast as I could, going much above the speed limit, but gradually I slowed down, and let my mind wander.

 I sat near the windowpane and looked out. It had just stopped raining. The smell of fresh earth and sunlight tingled in it filled my senses. I liked this alone time. Where it was just quiet and I could be at peace. Never having to prove anything to anyone. Away from father's hurtful words and mother's looks of pity.

I looked at my reflection in the glass. The redness had almost gone out of my eyes, but the lines left on my face by my tears were still evident. I rubbed at them furiously; if anyone saw them they would have more reason to call me weak and mock. Maybe they were right. I was not meant to be an existence.

 "Rachna!" my mother called from downstairs. I replied "Coming!" and rubbed my face again, slipped into my slippers and ran down, but slowed at the bottom few steps. Father would get angry if I ran about the house. 

My mother was in the kitchen ordering the servants, and she turned her hands up in the air and whispered to me with urgency, "Your uncle and his family are arriving in a few minutes. Go out to greet them. Your father is outside. GO!"