Joined: 23 April 2009
Hello humanity and fellow earthlings! I know it is disgustingly early to even THINK about writing one shots. However I wrote this story and I realized just how much it related to the current plot of this drama. Now I absolutely LOVE/ADORE/LOVEADORE Karanvir Bohra aka PREM! *Sighs and screams at the same time - only to end up sounding like a choking hyena*
And so due to my obsession for him, I have landed in this forum and I'm bloody well making sure I super glue my butt in here. For as long as Karanvir is here, so am I!
Now I know there would be hardly any replies or readers because it is a new show and a new forum. But I just needed this to be out here to float around for a while. So happy reading JOKES cry humans CRY! Because this story ain't so happy. I'm a depressed soul so expect this kind of stuff from me.
Tata! Oh how rude of me to forget introducing myself. The name is Samira but you may call me Sammy. And mind it - the name is not spelled as 'Sam-eera'. It's 'Samira'. I have a phobia with that spelling of my name so er yes. Refrain from using such torturous name spelling.
~ Clipped wings~
A drop of water cascades upon my flowerless grave.
A tear slips down my cheeks as I watch you place the flowers upon my tombstone.
Spare me a moment, to embrace you in my cold arms.
You don't weep for me, as I have eternally weeped for you.
You never loved me, as irrevocably that I have loved you.
My obsession knows no bounds as I grasp the edges of sanity.
Leaving me hopeless, in the midst of insanity.
A simple goodbye was all that was said. No tears from you had been shed.
A tear slips down my sunken cheeks as I watch you walk away, leaving me in this cold pitch. Forever to stay.
My eyes close once again in cowardice defeat.
If only I had been brave
I would have silently confessed that
You were the flower of my grave.
He bought me flowers today.
lids drifted shut in unconcealed pleasure as I slowly inhaled the
sweet musky scent of the freshly picked flowers. A ghost of a smile
somewhat appeared at the corner of my cracked lips, an expression
that had become devoid of meaning, almost alienating for the past
several years. My trembling fingers traced the outline of my smiling
mouth, marveling at the fact that I could still recall how it felt to
smile once upon a time. I gripped the flower tightly in my grasp,
afraid that this small token of happiness would disappear the moment
I allowed myself to blink back into reality. With a gasp, I felt the
thorn pricking into my skin, oozing the blood out of my already
bruised finger. I hastily flung the flower onto the ground, whilst
the tears began to slip mercilessly down my pale sunken cheeks. My
life had become a thorn, consistently and continuously urging blood
to flow down my brokenly scarred persona. Never satisfied with the
outcome, the devil would forever continue to pierce my skin with
sharper thorns, forever anticipating my downfall.
'Jahnvi!' I heard my name being called out from downstairs. A shiver ran down my spine as I stiffened upon hearing the devils voice, impatiently demanding for my appearance. Shifting my attention back towards my reflection, I smoothed a hand down my rich brunette hair, easing the tendrils into place. I reached out for the powder and applied it gently over the black swelling shadows penetrating my right cheekbone. Satisfied with the concealing effect, I was about to walk towards the doorway when suddenly the door crashed open. My heart lodged into my throat and constricted in absolute fear. There stood my husband, face darkened with violent rage. To the outer world, all that could be seen from a distant perspective was his overwhelming beauty. The 6 foot 3 inches height, the muscular body, the green almond eyes fringed with long black lashes, the straight proud nose, the full lips, gleaming straight white teeth, flashing dimples on his right cheek and his impeccable charming nature. Years ago, that was the very same thing that had captured her attention and her heart. But today all that could be seen from a closer examination was the cruel glint in his devilish eyes, the evil smirk that never reached his eyes, the arrogant nature and the violent and abusively strong body.
'Need I repeat myself twice!' he hissed in outrage as he strode towards me, his fingers closing into a tight fist. I opened my mouth to explain but was cut short the moment he swung his arms and punched me in the face. I felt my body topple over onto the ground, the blood pouring from my nostrils. I felt myself slipping into darkness until he knelt down and gripped my hair, yanking my head painfully towards his face. I opened my tear glistened eyes and stared at his face, hating him with every fiber of my being. 'Look what you've made me do' he whispered in a show of regret, retrieving a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping my nose clean. 'Why must you insist in making me angry Jahnvi? You know I cannot control my anger' he explained to me for the hundredth time. With a display of sincere gentleness, he picked my fragile body into his arms and walked towards my makeup table. Placing me onto the chair before the mirror, he brushed my hair back and lovingly caressed my bruised cheeks. 'Your so beautiful' he whispered to me whilst looking through the reflection, 'fit to be the celebrities lucky wife' he teased with a dimpled smile. He fingered my clothes and frowned, 'what's this nunnery type of clothing?' he asked in disgust, 'what happened to all of the dresses I've bought you from Paris?' I could have reminded him that the last time I had worn his dresses, he had beaten and almost killed a poor man for eying me in appreciation. His jealous and over possessive spite had turned towards me, as he had beaten me to an unrecognizable degree, accusing me of purposely trying to capture other people's attention.
I refused to even meet his eyes as I heard him walk towards my wardrobe, flicking through my clothing. 'This is nice' he mused to himself as he dangled the dress before me. Like a rag doll, he dressed me in the revealing lacy black dress and re-applied my makeup to better disguise the newly developed bruises. 'Your too beautiful' he whispered into my ear as we walked down the grand staircase. 'And your all mine' he continued with a painful squeeze to my waist. I plastered a frozen smile upon my lips as I welcomed the guests with fake enthusiasm. The camera flashed on my face as reporters questioned the bruise on my face. The devil responded for me, calmly informing them that his clumsy wife had undergone a serious fall down the staircase. Guests nodded their head in sympathy, whilst the women openly admired and flirted with my husband.
Once upon a time, I used to darken in jealousy as I had watched countless women flirt and playfully touch my husband. Viraj would respond with a charming grace, flirting back outrageously and welcoming their touches. Every act of unfaithfulness would be gifted with a flower, as he begged for my forgiveness and hoped to win back my affections with various types of flowers. He was blatantly aware of my love for flowers, and so he used my weakness to his advantage. Every time I was gifted with a rose, I would forgive him in hopes that my love would change him one day. But day after day, flower after flower, he continued to remain the same unchangeable devil that he was today.
'A rose for a rose' a man stated from behind. I whirled around and found myself facing an old friend. He smiled in greeting and nodded his head towards the offered rose. 'Take it as a gift on my behalf' he commented with a friendly grin. Blood rushed to my face as I hesitantly cast a look over my shoulder and watched Viraj staring intently towards our direction. 'I-I have to go' I whispered, twirling around in hopes to escape an ugly scene. 'Jahnvi' he called out in a worried tone, placing a hand on my shoulder to prevent my escape. My breath was now coming out in frightened gasps as my husbands face twisted in anger. His eyes lingered on the mans hand upon my shoulder, possibly thinking of ways that he would try torturing the limb for daring to touch what he thought was rightfully his. I shrugged his hands off and walked right towards my husband. Viraj placed his hand possessively over my waist 'are you tired sweet heart?' he asked. I nodded my head in fear, afraid to add fuel onto his burning rage. 'Go upstairs' he whispered into my ear, 'and burn that dress' he continued with a menacing tone.
I ran up the staircase and slammed the door shut once I entered my room. Seconds later I heard the audience shout as the sound of glass being broken echoed through the hallway. He was going to kill me , I thought to myself as I stood in the middle of my room, chest heaving with panic. Several minutes went passed as I overlooked the front yard through my window, watching all the guests leave in their cars. Which places could I run that he has never ran after me before? Which homes could I hide in where he hasn't already found me in before? 'Jahnvi!' I heard his drunken roar come closer towards my room, his footsteps were like daggers to my pounding heart. I clutched the window panel and in a moment of pure panic, I tried to open the window. After unlatching the lock, I swung the window open and looked down. If I jumped in an attempt to escape, I would eventually be jumping to my death for there was no way I could possibly survive such a fall. Taking a desperate chance, I swung my legs over the window when my endeavor to escape from his violent hands was interrupted from his dominating presence.
With a roar he pulled me back into the room and blackened my face with his fists. I tried to fight back, kicking and scratching but to no avail. His body was made out of steel and his strength was unbelievable. I couldn't see due to my swollen eyes, but I could feel the blood flowing from every angle of my body. I stopped concealing my face and weakly attempted to protect my stomach from his punishing hands. I finally cried out as I felt him kicking my stomach, 'no please' I begged him. 'Your only mine' he grated out with each kick, 'and I'll be damned if my wife chooses another over me'. He stopped kicking and consequently wrapped his hands around my throat, choking the life out of me. 'Hear this my lovely Jahnvi, hands will be broken if they dare to touch you. Eyes will be blinded if they dare to look at what's mine. Throats will be torn apart if flirtatious words are to be spoken to you and life will be ended if they so dare try to snatch your affections from me'.
My eyes rolled back and I openly embraced death as opposed to living through this hell every day. I could not help nor prevent the remorseful tears from slipping down my cheeks as I felt the life drain out of my body, resting in a pool of blood in between my thighs. 'My baby' I choked in regret before the darkness swamped over me.
He bought me flowers today.
I continued to stare at it, the hateful reminder of my existence stared back. This time it was red roses. I laid motionless, dazed and numb with the loss of my first child. I no longer felt any emotions as my husband rained kisses over my face, crying and begging for my forgiveness. For the umpteenth time, he told me that he would change his habits. He promised to change over and over again and pleaded for me to not hate him. I looked at his face and for once felt no fear, no love and no sympathy. I had once foolishly believed that I could truly alter him. But now I realized that the only reason why he had married me was because he was aware of his dominance and control over me. He knew of my love for him and he twisted and manipulated my feelings for his own pleasure.
Flower after flower, he tried to convince me of his love for me. Day after day, he cried at my bedside as I continued to stare at him in silence. At night he would possessively embrace my body as I stayed awake for hours, lying hopelessly in bed, trapped in his arms. He would never let me go, my mind screamed out to me. Trapped for eternity.
He bought me flowers today.
For once in my life I fought to hold onto this moment as I captured his anguish and torture with gleaming eyes. I felt his hand shake my shoulders, screaming my name in worriment. He frantically removed the blanket from my body and grasped my slitted wrists into his hands. I made sure this day would be perfect to extract my revenge. For I had purposely held onto a single red rose whilst the blood from my wrist began to drip onto the petals. With my dying strength, I raised my hand and silently offered the flower to him as a gift. He stared at it in silence, his face paling with every drip of my blood. 'I bought you flowers today, to thank you for gifting me with bruises everyday, for making my life a living nightmare and for killing our first child'. I pray that this gifted flower torments your life just like it did to mine.' With that uttered, I finally allowed my eyes to slip shut as a smile began to play upon my lips. To the world and from a distance, my death would be perceived as a loss, an act of weakness in trying to escape. But from a closer examination, they would know that the triumph was mine. I had finally won this war. I had escaped from this incarceration. I had finally found my clipped wings and flown away to my freedom.
I was no longer an incarcerated wing but a blooming butterfly - finally flying to her freedom.
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