1:37 PM
31st August, 2020.

Peace and silence had long forsaken her.

The doors of her room never stayed shut for more than five minutes. Someone always walked in, checking her vitals or her medicines.

Sometimes they'd even walk in when she'd be eating or sleeping, and stare for long, trying to get the words out of her.

Only to fail miserably.

Despite the discomfort she would feel, she would simply ignore them and try to continue with her only task - staring at the walls, or the obscure painting beside the window.

She would wait for them, to take the hint, walk out, shut the door and never look behind. But they'd never understand. They would just stand and stare, allowing many curious passerbys to stare at her. She didn't mind those stares. Not even a bit.

It was the noise that annoyed her.

That unnecessary need for people to use their words when silence would've worked better. Their unnecessary need to shout, laugh, whisper and squabble when they could've stayed quiet. Their unnecessary need to speak to feel comfortable when silence worked way better.

Their unnecessary need to shun silence.

She shuddered, feeling someone's gaze on her. Her eyes bounced off the walls, carefully turning towards the source.

It was just another doctor; she let out a sigh of relief. Just another person who was letting the noise enter her room.

A doctor she somewhat found familiar. In a frightening manner. He reminded her of someone she had seen only once in her dream long ago.

Maybe it was his glasses or his facial structure, his aura or maybe just him. Either way, he reminded her someone who held power over her, still held power over her.

Greed.

She quaked.

His eyes, despite the distant look, were brimming with greed and his lips were drawn out into a victorious smirk. All of which made her uncomfortable. Scared her.

The fear she suppressed over the years crawled under her skin and tightened the knots in her stomach.

Was it him - her perpetrator - was he the one?

She wasn't sure. He wasn't seen in years together. But the doctor that stood at her threshold, ogling and smiling, held an ungodly resemblance to him.

What if it was him?

What if he had come to take her back?

She wouldn't mind. She'd be happy to go back there.

It was hell.

And also her home.

A better home. A better place. A safeer place. Regardless of the pain or discomfort she'd wake up to every other night, she liked that place.

Words formed in her head, trying to create meaningful sentences. She tried over and over again, till they made sense to her. Till they conveyed her message.

But it was too late.

The door had shut.

The world had been cut off.

And so was her only hope.

* * *

Sometimes alone, sometimes with a colleague, daily she would find him at her door.

Frozen with the same greed, the same smirk.

And the same hope.

* * *

8:54 PM
21st September, 2020.

She waited.

Her eyes rested upon on his figure that stood stiff against the door.

His eyes went from calm to wide, like that in surprise, then they lowered, in embarrassment and finally, they narrowed, a resolute determination filling them.

He took a step forward and her eyes lowered, fingers fidgeting with the blanket.

Was she finally saved?

Will she finally be able to go back to the place she was found? To the place where all she had to do was just eat and sleep and live in peace.

Dozens of children, along with her, placed in a large room containing everything windows - they weren't allowed to see the world outside. Food, sleep and games was all they got in exchange for freedom.

That life was simple, easy and loved.

There were no hidden motives, just confinement in a building with friends and caretakers.

They liked it, came to like it, and grew addicted to it.

Like it was a drug. Something that took their ability to protest or think, and accept their situation in peace.

She craved to go back to it, to her friends, to the confinements of the sky touching walls.

And she knew he had come to take her back. If not, why else would he come for her?

* * *

9:01 PM
21st September, 2020.

Karan walked slowly, highly fascinated by the reactions she gave at his arrival. Gripping onto the notepad in his hands, he gulped hard.

He was right. She had been waiting for him all along!

Dumping it on the bed, he sat himself on the stool beside her bed. There was silence, and the same awkward staring that continued.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. She tilted her head slightly, waiting for him repeat his words.

"I'm sorry," he repeated a little louder. "I was drowned in my own greed, I wasn't..."

He rambled, but not a word passed her ear. She was stunned, irked by his apology.

Was he not here to send her back to that place? Was she, all this while, pinning her hopes on the wrong man?

She felt foolish.

Just because Karan bore a striking resemblance to the man she had seen only once, she assumed them to be the same. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her fists hard, her nails digging into her palms.

Slowly, she pulled her words, turned them into a meaningful sentence, and finally coated them with her disappointment.

"Get out." She said, her tone soft but rude and cold.

Karan was startled. Slowly, he turned his head towards her and gaped.

After three dreadful weeks, she finally spoke.

She had finally spoken.

"You speak?" He asked.

Amazed and stunned, he could only do as much as giving her an excited smile, and eyes beaming in glee.

But they could not match the happiness inside him. It burst and popped, making goosebumps rush up his arms and neck. His cheeks felt warm and red, from the sudden rush of blood. He felt light, and giddy, panting softly as he gripped onto the bars of the bed for stability.

"You spoke!" He inched closer, her cold demeanor unwavering. He clasped her hands, "Do you know for how long we've yearned to hear your voice?!"

Unconsciously, he took a trip into his dreamland. The next step seemed easy, he just had to talk. Talk, talk and talk, until she'd start. Then he'd stay quiet and just listen. Note down everything, record her experiences and then run out, proclaiming victory and a name in the books of history.

He smiled.

For him, it seemed innocent, but for her, it was creepy and loathsome, drowned in self-indulgence.

Terrified, she hastily snatched her hands back and placed them on her lap, pulling him out of his dreams in the process.

"Huh? Oh! I'm sorry, I zoned out." He let out a small laugh, rubbing his neck nervously.

"Habits, you know," he added with a shrug. "They die hard. I've been quite a dreamer as a child, forgot to leave it behind."

Composing himself, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat, "I'll pay attention this time, I promise. M--"

He froze, his fingers feeling the empty depth of his pockets. Where was the recorder?

He looked around — over the bed, at the table beside the door, inside the pockets of all his clothes — only to find it nowhere.

'Dammit!' He grit his teeth. He had forgotten the most equipment required for the session. He tried for his phone, groaning at the screen that died in front of his eyes.

He had only one option left — the notepad. He grumbled, his fingers aching at the very thought of curling around a pen to jot down every word that escaped her lips.

Nonetheless, he ignored the ache, flipped it open and held the pen in his hand, watching her eagerly.

He'd do anything to achieve his dreams.

* * *

9:27 PM
21st September, 2020.

Exhausted by his silence and unwavering stare, she broke her gaze from him and looked away, at the walls. At the painting that hung in a far corner, at the sky outside the window.

It was night. The stars were barely visible, barely there. They were now a forgotten entity. Diamonds, so beautiful, that once twinkled in the sky —  and also a part of every artist's dream, every poet's poem, every musicians tune, every writers abode, every lover's promise — were now forgotten.

Forgotten by the fickle nature of the human mind. The mind that'd forget everything. The mind that'd remember and dwell on everything wrong — terrible people, broken memories, pain received (given is never remembered), grief, and everything else wrong in the world.

She too was one.

A forgotten memory. Erased from the minds of those who once loved and adored her. Her parents, teachers, friends, siblings — none remembered her.

But she did.

Over a course of three years, until she was nine, she cried for them regularly. She missed them, needed them, wanted to go back to them.

That was until she met them again. They were disgusted by her, and failed to recognise her. All they did was try to get her off them. Out of pity, one of them even gave a coin or two to survive the night. But none refused to acknowledge her existence, kneel over and hug her. Tell her that she was safe, back home, and the worst was over.

And that was it.

It was the last time she ever asked, cried or sought for them. After that she accepted her reality, pocketed the coins she received, and walked back to the place she had been trying to run from. A wave of relief washed over her when they — the caretakers and children — recognised her and welcomed her warmly.

Since then, there was no going back.

* * *

10:57 PM

21st September, 2020.

Noticing that Karan still had his eyes fixed on her, she glowered. Fisting her palms, she looked at him sternly, making him flinch.

"Sorry! Did I make you uncomf---"

"Get out."

He blinked, confused.

"Get out." She stated firmly.

He scratched his head, placing the pen in between the pages of the notepad.

"I know it must've been hard... and probably you're scared of trusting me, but if you want to go back home --"

"No."

"No?" He was perplexed. "Do you not want to go back home? To your parents?"

"No." She replied, irritated of repeating herself. Couldn't he just keep mute and leave?

"Why?"

She raised a brow.

Leave; she sighed mentally.

"Then, where?" He tried to prod.

"Friends."

"But they're with your parents."

"No."

He sat back, perplexed. Could she mean..?

"Do mean the friends from the place we found you?"

She nodded once.

"You want to go to them?" He asked, rather repulsed. She didn't reply.

"But... but why? They are not your family, or your friends. You know, they are not good people. They are bad. They do bad things."

"No."

"No?" He breathed.

Annoyed slightly, he wrote down her words and the messages she wanted to convey. The pen scratched roughly against the notepad, getting on his nerves.

Noise was the last thing he needed.

DOESN'T WANT TO GO HOME.

He read it over and over again. He read it enough to see it everywhere. In posters and signs, everything that held letters simply gave him only one disappointing sentence to read.

"Do you really not want to go to your parents?" He asked again, clearly disappointed.

This was it.

She lost all patience. Glaring at him, she lay on the bed and turned away from him.

Karan grew tired of her behaviour. His patience was wearing out, rather the perfect dream he had was fading away.

"I don't understand... why them? They're bad... they have done bad things to you. You are not safe with them..."

"... Only your parents can keep you safe. You can't," He grit his teeth and clenched his fists. "You can't keep yourself safe. You've been in the wrong for long, you've grown accustomed to it. Addicted to it!"

Closing her eyes, she tuned him out. She could no longer hear him, and that made her smile. Snuggling into the pillow, she fell asleep with only one hope.

To go back home. Not the one where she was born.

She wanted to go back to the home she had spent her youth in.

Where all her friends lived.

Unbeknownst to her, Karan pocketed his notepad, kicked the leg of the stool in disappointment and stormed out.

All he left behind was silence, peace and shattered hopes.