The Revenge Games

by M. V. Kasi

  Her heart was pounding hard inside her chest, hurting her ribcage, as images began to flash along with multitude of conversations that caused her head blinding agony.

  She was unable to slow down the images or block them from rushing out from her head.

  She felt she was dying.

  ***

  When awareness finally returned, Sia realized that she was sitting on the bedroom floor, rocking herself, and muttering, “Please stop. Make it stop. Make it stop,” over and over again.

  Her life since she had been nine years old had flashed in front of her eyes.

  But one memory, one image, and one sentence from much earlier on, completely destroyed her.

  “I know you love me the best, but can you keep a secret, my beautiful little princess?”

  She couldn’t recall that man’s face completely, but she remembered what he had done to her after he had said those words to her.

  Her head was still throbbing and her lungs burned, making it difficult to breathe. Standing up, she stumbled towards the bathroom, as her stomach began to lurch. Dropping in front of the toilet, she gagged.

  Bile began to surge up and she gasped over the bowl as she recalled some of those memories that were stored in deep caverns of her mind.

  She began to call and leave frantic messages to Dr. Patel whose phone was going to an automated message.

  Then feeling unclean, she shed her clothes and stood under extremely hot water. The water was only a shade less than boiling hot. It left her skin red and raw as she tried to scrub hard using soap. She would have welcomed for her skin to burn so that she could get a new skin. It felt like she was unable to scrub the slime and dirt from her body.

  She stepped out from the useless shower and filled the bath tub with hot water and immersed herself in it, until she could hear her heart beat in her ear, drowning out a few thoughts.

  Sighing in slight relief, she stayed there for a while, feeling the lightness of her hair as it floated about her. She stared up at the high ceilings of the bathroom, wondering what would happen if she simply let go and drowned in the water.

  It hadn’t been the first time she had such thoughts. But this was the first time she actually knew why.

  After god knows how long, she heard the phone ring and she staggered back to her room to answer the call.

  “Sia?” Dr. Patel asked when she couldn’t get her voice to work for several seconds.

  She was still in shock.

  “Sia. Are you okay? Talk to me. Or I’m calling the emergency.”

  “No, don’t,” she gasped out, and then began to cry.

  Not polite sniffles, but big ugly sobs.

  “Dr. Patel, one of your theories was right. I remember it now. Not all of it, but enough,” she sobbed out.

  For the last couple of years, Dr. Patel and she had dissected her dreams, her lack of early childhood memory, and her addictions and compulsions.

  “The unconscious mind always operates in present tense,” he had said. “When your earlier memories are lost in your unconscious, they are preserved as though whatever trauma had happened is still ongoing. The effect of your repressed memory is that your mind doesn’t know that the trauma had ended.”

  Her addictions and compulsions were the after-effects of that trauma. And now, she finally knew what trauma she had endured. Too bad that finding out the truth was even worse than being kept in the dark.

  “I was abused,” she whispered on the phone to Dr. Patel. “I was raped as a child. Over and over. By someone I knew and trusted.”

  She began to tell Dr. Patel about the overwhelming fear, the emotions, and more distinctly, the betrayal of trust she had felt as a child.

  For several hours, she began to reveal some of the memories that were slowly flooding in. Her body trembled in fear and disgust, but she didn’t stop talking.

  “He always came to me in the dark. Because of which I hated it when the sun began to set and the dark slowly set in. All I can associate with the dark is the pain and the desperation. I tried to get him to stop, but he didn’t listen. No matter how much I cried, I couldn’t stop or change what was being done to me. He told me that it was for my own good. Because if I allowed him to do what he wanted, we’d be together, and he wouldn’t have to leave me.” She felt hopeless as she recalled why she didn’t try her best to stop him. “I didn’t want him to leave me because I felt he was all I had. But at the same time I felt so alone and helpless.”

  She still remembered the feeling of overwhelming isolation.

  “And when I finally told a few people about it, they didn’t believe me. They called me a liar and worse, a crazy child. They told me that I imagined a lot of things. That there was no way he or anyone else could ever do that to me. Because I was only a child. They drilled it so much into my head that I myself began to question what was real and what wasn’t.”

  She broke down, her voice catching due to her choked up tears.

  Dr. Patel was listening to her quietly until he softly continued for her, “And you stopped trusting your own feelings because no one acknowledged what that nine year old girl was going through. Her agony went unheard.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Soon your pain became so great that you learned how not to feel at all. And then, that lonely, desperate nine year old innocent girl learned to give up all the senses that made a person feel alive.”

  She recalled how she had tried hard to disappear within herself. “I had actually wished I was dead during that time. Because I felt there was no way out. Or even some kind of a hope at being saved from that monster.”

  She had felt that way until the drowning incident. And then later when she was sent away to the orphanage, she was still shocked and traumatized to the point that she blocked the memories of her past completely.

  “When I was adopted, I completely lost my earlier childhood memories.”

  “No. Not completely,” said Dr. Patel softly.

  “You are right,” she said. “Even though I lost my memories, I had always felt that same fear… Deep inside I knew something was very very wrong. I thought I was crazy. I still feel that I’m crazy.”

  “That’s not being crazy, Sia. You just kept your worlds separated. Purely for self-preservation. You compartmentalized your life so much that nothing passed between the day persona and your night persona. During the day, you are cool and detached, but during the night, you re-live your nightmares.”

  Dr. Patel explained to her about why her past experiences had made her have trust issues along with attachment issues.

  “I don’t understand it, Dr. Patel. How could I have forgotten something as traumatic as being raped?” she asked.

  “Quite easily, Sia. That’s your body’s way to cope.”

  Over the next few hours, she kept talking to Dr. Patel, until she couldn’t, because she felt drained.

  And even after she lay on the bed, she still couldn’t sleep. Because of the slow burn, she felt within her.

  She got up and went towards the crumpled paper and stared at it with a new kind of determination.

  “You are wrong. So very wrong,” she told her dead aunt. “I’m not going to simply meet my so called family. I’m going to hunt that motherfucker down, and destroy him.”

  Her life now had a purpose. A cold blooded one with revenge as her ultimate aim. She would avenge that innocent little girl who was betrayed in the cruelest way possible.

  She did research on her dear cousin whom she was supposed to have been obsessed about. He was now a pediatric doctor and ran several children’s charities along with his family.

  Probably to find new victims to abuse.

  She stared at the picture on the screen with rage burning in her eyes. “Dr. Kranthi Naidu…here I come. Your days are numbered.”

  At nine, she had been accused of attempting to murder him. But now…she was sure that she’d succeed in murdering him. She would wipe that child rapist from the face of the earth. So he can
no longer hurt any other innocents, robbing them of their souls.

  She made a few calls, and then booked her flight tickets to Hyderabad. She made enough arrangements to arrive there in two days with the ammunition she needed.

  Two more days and then her monster would be dead.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  PRESENT

  SIA HAD JUST gotten back home from a long run. She collapsed in a heaping mess on one of her lawn benches in the backyard with her eyes closed.

  It had been close to a month since the wedding. And during the four weeks, even though she and Ajay lived in the same house, they barely saw each other more than a few times. And even during those rare sightings, apart from curt and polite nods, they haven’t spoken to each other.

  Seven more months of relative peace before the circus begins.

  It wasn’t exactly peaceful living with another person, feeling their presence each moment, and actively trying to avoid them. Maybe, she should extend some sort of an olive branch. But how? And what would she say to him?

  Hello Ajay. I know you must loathe me. But before our baby is born, can you resolve your resentful feelings towards me? Oh, and can we do it rather quickly? Because you see, you probably need to play the part of a doting husband when the whole thing blows over and our lives are dragged into the media circus.

  Her internal monologue was interrupted when she heard someone clear their throat noisily.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Ajay. He was hovering over her with a frown on his face. And as soon as she saw him, she sat up straight, and kept her expression deadpanned.

  She noticed that the damn man was shirtless and sweaty, looking completely hot. The monologue she had been practicing a minute ago completely vanished from her head as her mouth dried up at the sight in front of her.

  And thanks to her now crazy pregnant hormones, she was hit by an instant lust.

  Unable to formulate a coherent thought, let alone start a conversation, she gave him a cool chin nod, and fled inside the house.

  But Ajay followed behind her in a determinate way.

  “Sia, wait,” he called out.

  Turning back to him, “Yes?” she asked coolly. Or at least she thought she sounded cool and not like a breathless twit.

  She tried, not to lower her eyes from his face to his bare body. But luckily, his face was fascinating too. Especially that little drop of sweat that was trailing from the side of his forehead. She wanted to run her tongue along that path and—

  “When is your next check up with your doctor? I’d like to be there,” he said.

  That simple request sobered her up. She pulled her brain from the gutter and ran through the implications of allowing Ajay to accompany her to the doctor’s appointment. So far, she couldn’t think of anything that would risk her plan.

  “Next Tuesday. At eleven. I’ll text you the details,” she said quietly.

  “Good. I’ll see you then,” he replied back, equally coolly.

  ***

  The next Tuesday, Sia was seated in the waiting room of another exclusive hospital.

  The women seated along with her were discussing about the current ‘political’ debate.

  Even though she had gotten over the nausea phase, she felt like throwing up listening to the conversation.

  “I would definitely vote for Jagdish Naidu because unlike Satish Kumar, he has a well-rounded family, and is a very principled person. Jagdish Naidu’s son, Dr. Kranthi Naidu, is a well-reputed doctor who has practiced in backward villages. Guess what Satish Kumar’s son’s accomplishment is?” Giggles. “He has gone to jail due to various criminal cases lodged against him.”

  Each time Sia heard a reference to the Naidu family, her stomach churned. She wondered if she could ever develop some sort of immunity after her plan was put to action. She’d have to face him at some point, and manage to not throw up at the mere sight of him.

  Drawing in an unsteady breath, she tried to calm down as the three women kept talking about her abuser and his exalted family.

  “Jagdish Naidu’s son always praises his mother. She is a homemaker who apparently is his inspiration behind his success and philanthropy,” said another woman.

  “And have you seen Jagdish Naidu and his son, Kranthi?” gushed one of the women. “They are so distinguished and good looking. Unlike the goon looking Satish Kumar and his son.”

  Giggles again.

  Sia’s fists clenched, wanting to punch something. How can some people think of picking their damn leaders based on looks alone? When did they become so damned shallow?

  It was a shame that when most people heard the term abuser or a sinner, they imagined someone ugly, and someone who was anti-social with several ‘bad’ habits. They thought that the child abusers or other violators would actually kidnap women and children to a secluded area to do the deed. And most people also thought that these abusers were hated by everyone in general to have resorted to these unholy ‘urges’.

  None of it was true.

  Her abuser was good looking. Charming and dynamic even. With his bone structure and genes, he’d remain so, until the day he died. And he had abused her during her childhood in the very home where she was supposed to have been safe.

  And currently, he also had a huge following of people who liked him, and would possibly blindly support him until the day he died.

  That was one of the reasons why she didn’t just want to blow his brains out. She didn’t want people to mourn him. She wanted to dig in, and find out if he had other victims, and then expose his deeds. She knew it would be an uphill battle, where she couldn’t possibly find any peace because people would not believe her. Or worse, they would forgive him.

  She recalled what Dr. Patel had said to her about her healing.

  “Half the recovery and healing is from the actual abuse. The rest of it is about how you actually fit in the society in the face of such prejudices that people have about the abuser and abuse victims. Most people are in denial about child abuse taking place around them. They refuse to listen or accept it as truth. Only to make themselves feel secure and better.”

  “Whoever marries into that family will be so lucky,” sighed a woman sitting across her.

  Fortunately, during the next few minutes, they changed the topic. Apparently, the three women knew one another and they began bitching about some other woman who wasn’t there to defend herself.

  Sia felt the irritation rise in her as she heard them tittering at their own mean remarks. That was one of the reasons why she hated mingling with other women who frequented the same social circles such as her.

  She had absolutely nothing in common with most of them, except the fact that they had endless money. Some of these women had too much time on their hands, and they enjoyed filling their lives with petty drama.

  She looked at the group in front of her. They appeared spoiled and entitled, and based on the conversations; they were gliding through their lives with the help of their fathers and husbands, sheltering them from the real world issues.

  “Tina’s husband is a doctor too who makes enough money. I don’t know why she is shaming him by working in a job that probably pays as much as they pay their own driver,” said one woman, making them all titter again.

  “No, no. Jokes aside, this has become a serious issue. Almost like an epidemic. Until a few years ago, only a few helpless or poor women used to work. Now even the ones with enough money want to prove themselves. But only god knows what they really want to prove.”

  This woman seemed to be a self-declared spokeswoman for all the things wrong with current ‘new age’ world. She had been droning on and on about some or other issue, and always seemed to have an equally bigoted reasoning for it.

  The other two women, who appeared to be her cheerleaders, didn’t help the matters.

  “I know. They do this at the cost of their family and pride,” said one outraged woman.

  “Every husband, dreams of a woman who will be there fo
r him, when he goes back home after a long working day.”

  “Yes. And what does he find? Cold dinner on the table with empty chairs!”

  Sia just couldn’t take it anymore. Her pregnant hormones were making her restless, and so she jumped right into that ridiculous conversation.

  “The working woman’s husband ends up cheating on her because she is too damn tired when she gets back from work,” she said with a straight face.

  The three women looked at her and smiled. Probably because they felt glad to have found an equally delusional ally who agreed with their crap.

  One of the woman’s eyes sparkled in excitement. “Yes, it actually happened to—”

  “The working woman’s children come home from school to an empty house too,” Sia continued.

  “That is so true—” said another woman.

  Sia cut that woman off as well. “The working woman’s children fail at school because their mother is not home, tutoring them.”

  The woman, who was the leader of the pack, looked excited. “There’s a kid in my Nikki’s class who keeps failing, his mother definitely must—”

  Sia kept watching them expressionlessly and continued.

  “The working woman’s children would ultimately demand for a new mother, who will always be around them. The husband readily agrees because he also wants a wife who is always at his beck and call. So he divorces the working woman and gets a brand spanking new ‘full-time’ wife and mother. But the new wife is mean to the kids. Because she is jealous of them. And one day she poisons their food. The children eat the poisoned food. And maybe the husband also accidentally eats some of that poisoned food. And they all die of…food poisoning. All of that happens, only because the working woman didn’t want to be there at home to prevent it all in the first place.”

  There was an utter silence for a few seconds.

  “I-I…” one of the women stammered at loss of words.

  The other women remain silent.