Posted by Anas Bin Moosa
November 23, 2017

NOTE: This post has been self-published by the author. Anyone can write on Youth Ki Awaaz.

Noises, sound horns, talkings, screams, sirens, crying, howlings all she could hear was noise. The screeching of tires, she can’t open her eyes, the pain hiting her so hard. The morphine not working, the pain yearns out. She was being moved, that’s all she knew. She can’t feel her hands, stuck under neadles, blood sucking out, numb and cold. She was over heard the doctors talking medical terms. She was pulled to some theatre. ICU she guess. She was inserted more needles, she was now victim of more pain, more needles, more cuttings. Finally, after a hour war, she was finally moved out to the ward. She finally knew, she was in the hospital admitted. She slowly opens her eyes, she could feel the pain pinning, soo hard for one to bear. There is no one around, someone in white comes near, checks the monitor saying her that she is alive. That changing tunes on the screen determined her. She was then instructed to shut her eyes, sleep. Deep in her sleep, she started to play her last scenes, she started to solve the puzzle, one by one. She stopped, when a character came in. She tried to stop the game of flashback, but that face, that name, she opened her eyes. She evade her sleep. She tried to stay awake that night. Even reality didn’t stop her from remebering his face. His face, his fake promises all came crashing down. She couldn’t breathe, she tried to console herself, failed once, tried, twice. Memories, it’s a drug, you know it’s just injurious to your health, even then you are just addicted to past. She lay down, all her tears now dry, heart still wet.

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