Page 3 of Born in Grief

She took a shaky step away from him but she wasn’t fast enough. The belt whipped out, the end catching her against the curve of her neck. She bit down on a sharp cry as a red welt rose on her skin. If she cried, she’d only feed the beast within him.

“You’re right,” she whispered, one hand cupping her hurt cheek. “I’m sorry. I should have known better.”

He snapped the belt in his hand making her jump. A slow grin spread across his face at the sight of her fear.

“No, baby. You had the right idea.” He stepped closer, one hand coming up to cradle her jaw. His fingers tightened painfully on the soft underside of it as he tipped her face up. “I like games. Iloveplaying with you.”

He giggled, a soft, silly sound that had her flinching. He reached over and gently tapped her on her shoulder.

“Tag,” he said, grinning. “You’re it.”

She stared at him dumbly, her brain not catching up to the moment. The belt snapped out, the buckle splitting her lower lip, blood fountaining out of it and spilling down her front.

“RUN!” he screamed in her face.

Dhrithi ran. Her heart pounding in her throat, blood dripping down the loose neckline of her t-shirt and her eyes darting feverishly in every direction of the palatial mansion Varun called home and she called a prison.

“Ten. Nine. Eight.”

Varun’s countdown echoed in time to the pulse thundering in her ears. She was racing past the large hall on the ground floor when she saw it. Varun had thrown the keys to his BMW on the console that lined the corridor leading to the hall.

Should she? Was she actually going to do this? Was she going to run like he suggested? If she did and failed…

“Five. Four.”

His voice was getting closer. Dhrithi grabbed the keys and ran out of the door, barefoot and almost tripping over herself to reach the car parked sloppily in front of the house. She threwherself into the driver’s seat and reversed out of the driveway, gravel spitting in her wake.

She glanced at the rearview mirror, her heart plummeting as she spied Varun’s furious face receding in the background. Even before she had cleared the gate, he was racing towards the garage for another car.

She turned onto Carter Road, melding into the traffic on auto pilot. She spotted a familiar grey Mercedes turning on to the road four cars behind. She was almost to Otters Club when he caught up with her. Horn blaring, he came up behind her, one angry arm gesturing to her to pull over.

She couldn’t. Deep in her terrified heart, Dhrithi knew that if she stopped, she was dead. Varun would never forgive her for running, not running till he caught her, but running till he couldn’t.

The headlights of the car behind her flashed, an angry, blinding glare that sent terror shooting through her soul. Dhrithi tore her gaze away from the rearview mirror and stared out at the crowded road. She needed to get on to the long, straight expanse of the Mumbai Sea Link. He wouldn’t try anything as long as she was on the bridge, she told herself. He wouldn’t dare. There were too many people watching.

She just needed to get there. She needed to-

He rammed into her from behind, her car spinning on two wheels before turning turtle and crashing into the divider. Dhrithi fought for control, her seat belt cutting into her chest and crushing it.

She struggled to right the car but when it flipped for the third time, she gave up. Her head smashed against the roof of the carand after that, there was nothing. The dark arrived like it always did and, this time, she didn’t fight it. She surrendered to it.

No more pain, she thought dimly, as her consciousness faded. It was over.

Chapter Two

AMAY

“Sir.”

Amay looked up from the operating table, his gloved hands still in the patient’s chest cavity. He glared at the intern standing near the door, the young boy’s hand trembling against the doorjamb.

He kept his own hand steady on the clamp as he raised one eyebrow at him. “What?” he asked gruffly.

“There’s an accident case coming in. Mangal Sir requested it to be on your list.”

“I’m off duty post this surgery. Tell the on-call surgeon to take it.” Amay turned back to his patient, mentally dismissing the younger man.

“He has loose motions Sir.”

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