The boy who was blinded by the bright light that covered the wooden court, the place he now called home. About six years ago, he held that light racket for the first time with shivering hands and twinkling eyes. That racket was no longer a foreign marvel, it was a part of him akin to his arms and feet. Shyam brought his hands to his feet and knotted his shoes. Raghav's hand rested on his back, on the jersey that carried his name. Shyam stood up and moved to on to the court. "Love all." And the match started.

Outside, the sun was raging. The trio was out and about. Ram was a quick learner, within months they started collecting double the target. Ram's feet moved swiftly towards the man who had notebooks laid out on a red cloth. Ram's eyes moved towards a handmade black notebook. The white thread that made the pages stick together were clearly visible on the cover. He opened the book and took a deep breath as the scent drifted through his nostrils. His hand moved into his pocket as the placed the crisp notes in the man's hands. Meghna at that very moment raised her fragile body on her tiptoes and flung an arm around his neck, bring him down. As he rose up, the duo looked into each other's eyes as their lips tucked up and they burst out laughing.

The trio headed towards their hiding spot and added to the now minuscule pile of coins. The day before they had spent a fortune buying a second hand phone. The device that was much smaller than the palm of their hand with a rounded black cover and press buttons stared at them. Ram pulled out a piece of paper with a number hastily written across it. With each button he pressed, Ram saw Shyam's features. He could see the tall boy whose eyes twinkled when he looked up at his brother. He could see the boy's clean shaved head and dark eyes staring back at him as he scuffled around in Ram's oversized clothes.

Shyam's smartphone that was carelessly stuffed into his badminton kit, now rested in between sweat cladded towels. The phone vibrated over and over again but the mild humming could not overpower the cheering crowd. So, the phone that Shyam had bought with his cash prize now held a total of six missed calls from an unknown number.

Ram's head dropped low as the phone was not picked up yet another time. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder that pulled him towards Piyush's chest. He let the warm fluid overflow from his eyes as they burned. Piyush ruffles his luscious black hair as he said, "Maybe we got the wrong number. We will contact Shyam, if not now, soon." Meghna pounced on the two boys as they landed on one another and wrapped their hands around. Meghna and Piyush had only heard of Shyam yet they had created their own images of him in their heads. They knew that Shyam bit the bottom of his lip when he lied and that he always rubbed circles on floor when he stood. To them, he was family. Family they had never seen.

The match went on. The shuttle flew over Shyam's head. His slightly bent knees propelled themselves with a push directed towards the floor. His elbow unfolded and his arm swung back, the shuttle moved with great ferocity in a slanting manner and made contact with the metal racket. Shyam moved back to the middle of the court, his eyes trained on the shuttle cock. The match went on.

Ram's knees were unwilling to support his body. His eyes were strained red as tears glistened in his eyes. Perhaps he was too naive to think that he could hear Shyam's voice and even meet him. How foolish it seemed! So Ram settled on the floor right in between his friends, drew his legs and let the tears flow. Meghna rubbed his back but did not in any way try to stop him. Crying was the one way they coped with everything life threw at them, it was their relief mechanism. Nothing more, nothing less.

The shuttle was once again air borne. The shuffling of the players feet could be heard as the audience held their breath. Nineteen-Twenty: the scoreboard proclaimed. Shyam hit the shuttle with a swing of his arm tossing it to the corner of his opponent's court. The racket stuck it perfectly and made the shuttle move swiftly towards the net and across it. Shyam dived as his racket kept the shuttle afloat. Another smash came across to his side of the court. That was it. The scoreboard flashed: Nineteen-Twenty one. Shyam had lost. After all the hard work he put in, the sweat that drenched him and the five am practices he had put in, he had lost, he had lost the final match. Shyam moved to the locker room. As soon as the door clicked shut, he cried. He brought his arm to his mouth and biting down on it, he screamed.

The trio were on their feet. Ram's tears had dried up. The sun had coloured the sky an orange shade. They gazed at it as the black birds flew across in flocks. They were all going home. Meghna dragged her feet along to that wreathed place. The darkness was her greatest strength and fear. Her 'shift' would start soon as people's faces were masked by the moonless night. The men would approach her then yet the darkness was always kind. It hid away her tears and their faces. That night things went too far.

Ram turned around hoping to see Meghna's black hair or her parted lips as she graced him with a smile. The music no longer played in the background. She should have been there soon. Yet as the clock ticked on, the boys could hear noises from down stairs. No words were spoken yet one could hear the clash as items found their places on the floor. Then they heard glass as it met flesh. A scream followed and then all went quiet. Ram and Piyush jumped out of their beds. The scream was Meghna's.

**My dear reader, I love writing stories because they have the power to bring out emotions from people I miles and miles away from me. These words are my happiness and to know that it brought out the slightest emotion out of you would mean the world to me. Maybe it just lifted you lip a tiny bit or made lines appear on your forehead, please let me know for that is the sole purpose of these words. Leave a comment, your thoughts, anything. A vote would mean that you enjoyed reading it. It takes seconds and yet means the world to me, the teenager behind the keyboard