A Forlorn Escape from the Yesterdays

“What time of the day is it?” Her frail mumble was heard nowhere in that abandoned room. She moved the messy hair on her face just to stare into the pitch darkness that gave no signs of escape. As she fumbled for her phone, she knocked down the leftover sip of vodka which was poured the day before. When she finally managed to fetch her phone, it was dead long back.
The migraine was paralyzing her. Passing out after that extra drink was not uninvited, but a whole day’s sleep had dehydrated her soul. She struggled to rise from the floor but failed. “He was right. Closing the window panes with papers has got nothing to do with shutting off people from life,” she smirked. “Saying that he was gone forever. He was not just my husband; he was the only one whom I was in contact with.”
After many failed attempts, she finally caught hold of her drawing stand and rose. She moved the black curtains just to stare into the plastered windows that looked like someone’s failed attempt to fix her shattered life with broken pieces of advice. The eeriness, born out of her imperfection, saw a ray of light leaking in through the uneven patch on the window panes.
“I don’t want to live with anyone. I don’t want to marry!” She could see herself screaming at her parents a year ago but was forced to marry Sandeep. Now, they are all gone, leaving behind her and her innate notion to shut people from life.
She switched on the lights. The yellow rays fell bluntly over the half-eaten food, ordered a few days ago, the broken glass and the spilt vodka, an unwashed plate and some forbidden pieces of art. The massive incomplete canvas which was half-painted red disturbed her. She searched for the leftover paint but realised it has all dried up.
She dragged herself into the balcony where the bright light pestered her for a while. She ran her fingers through the dusty rails, disturbed, and caught sight of a shawl lying on her balcony. “Must have flown from the top floor!” She slowly picked it up and brought it close to her nose, closed her eyes and took a deep breath… “Ahhh! Human smell!”
The uncle in the opposite flat still didn’t seem to give up. With the lit cigar, his whistle was a clear hook-up call, but she ignored. Suddenly, her heartbeat rose to see the trash van. She was nervous. She saw them load the saggy black sack into the van. “It was as thick as how I wanted,” she recalled the smell of Sandeep’s blood. “But the canvas is still incomplete,” she murmured.
The whistle from the other side was strong enough to interrupt her from caressing the abandoned cactus. Having fixed something, she decided to give a cold-blooded smile this time and the cactus got crushed in her palm, leaving behind no signs of hope.