TW:: child abuse, death threats, trauma, blood.

- 24/09/24

• • •

"Pa- papa!"

A little boy, barely four-years-old, cried loudly. He clutched a small baby girl, his one-month-old sister, in his arms, cradling her close to his tiny body. The baby's face was blue, and her body was getting cold. She was not breathing, her eyes closed forever.

"Nahi aayega tera baap. Tujh jaise nalayak bacche kisiko nahi chaiye. Jaa, jaa maar ja apni iss manhus behen ke saath."

Their mother sneered, her shrieks echoing in the empty mansion. She was holding a cushion in her hands, the same using which she had suffocated her baby daughter. Her hair was open, flying wildy, her eyes blood-shot, and saliva drooled down her lips. She was looking like a witch.

The woman took a menacing step towards the boy. He tightened his hold on the baby, trying to protect her even though his legs were trembling and heart was racing.

"Papa, bachao!" He screamed, looking around for his father. The woman slapped him so hard that he fell down. His spectacles went flying and blood dribbled from his lips.

"Samajh mein nahi aaya kya? Tere jaisa bacche kisika ho toh woh sharam se doob maare."

She taunted. Grabbing his arms, she shook him violently, her nails digging into his tender flesh.

"M... meri behen ke baare mein kuch mat bolna."

The boy warned even though he was scared. He hugged his sister tightly, unaware that she was long dead.

"Behen? Woh sirf ek laash hai abh. Aur tu bhi jaldi - "

A gunshot rang and the woman dropped dead. The little boy looked up to see a man standing at a distance, holding a gun in his hand very tightly. He was trembling in anger, his eyes red with shame and pain.

With slow movements, he carefully approached the man, his grip on his sister loosening. When he neared the man, he held her up for him to see and with tears in his eyes, he said.

"Papa, mummy ne baby ko maar diya. Aap mujhe bhi maar do."

The man cut off his son with a finger on his lips. His heart ached to hear his son's innocent request. He dropped to his knees and hugged his children tightly. "I'm so sorry, beta. Yeh sab meri galti hai. Mujhe - "

"Kiyansh sir," A lady put her hand on the six-year-old boy's shoulder, snapping him out his thoughts. Feeling overwhelmed by the memories of his past and disgusted by the invasion of his private space, he slapped her hand away.

"How dare you touch me!" He screeched, glaring down at her. His eyes were moist, but he wiped it away before anyone could see it. On his chubby little left cheek was a scar.

He clenched his tiny fists and stepped away from everyone, grunting loudly to let them know he was displeased by their actions. The children in the day-care gathered in a safe corner and watched him with a bated breath.

His heart felt like it was on fire and thorns, burning from the flames and bleeding from the cuts. His eyes were bloodshot, body trembling as he clenched his jaws tightly.

"I'm sorry, sir." The lady apologised, the fear in her voice evident. She went down on her knees, tears rolling down her cheeks. The staff looked away, not wanting to loose their jobs, or lives.

"Speak," Stoically, he stared at the woman, his eyes devoid of mercy.

"Your mother had called in. She said that she would arrive in five minutes."

Kiyansh's eyes widened, his lips curving into a pout. The fire and pain in his heart froze, turning into ice and then melted. His rage subsided, fists and jaws unclenching. He sighed, glancing at himself in the mirror.

"Leave," he muttered, going to the wash basin and washed his face. Drying it off with a fluffy towel meant for him only, he combed his hair and fixed his clothes - tucking his navy blue shirt into his white shorts, pulling up his socks, adjusting his collar.

He filled his sipper bottle with clean water and put it in the side carrier of his bag. Grabbing his bag, he swung it over his shoulders and adjusted his clothes for the last time.

As he descended the stairs, his sullen and dull mood began to morph into a joyous and excited mood. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he strolled towards the entrance and sat on the steps with a clumsy thud.

Slipping his feet into his shoes, he stared at the main gate eagerly, trying to catch a glimpse of his mother, his favourite woman in the whole wide world.

He was shaking in excitement, palms clenching the hem of his pants, as he shook his tiny legs impatiently. "Jaldi aao, mumma. Kiyu is waiting." He mumbled, staring at the road.

A pair of feminine hands covered his eyes, cutting out all the light. Before he could scream and shout, the familiar scent of cocoa wafted from the woman's body. A big smile appeared on his face instantly and he turned around to meet her - Mayura Rai Singhania, his step mother.

"Mumma!" He squealed, hiding his face in the folds of her peach saree. "I missed you so much." He added, feeling her stroke his hair.

He scrambled up towards her and wrapped his arms around her neck, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. Mayura was careful to stand, holding her precious boy lovingly in her arms.

"Good evening, champ." She kissed his crown. "Even mumma missed you so much."

"Then why do you send me here, mumma? Aap mujhe apne bakery le chalo. I'll be the goodest boy, promise."

He pleaded, giving her hus signature puppy eyes and whined softly, making her heart melt into dust. The chauffeur opened the door and she got into her seat, holding him on her lap.

"Bakery mein shaitani karoge?"

She raised a brow of doubt as the car door shut. The engine roared to life, the initial jolt the evidence of movement. Kiyansh shook his head in negative, placing his bag beside her on the seat and clenched the fabric of her saree.

"No mumma. I'll be a good boy. Aur aapki madat karunga."

He whispered, lowering his gaze. He was lost in the corridors of his past, haunted by the accusations of his birth mother.

Useless. No one wants you; her malicious words was like a punch to his gut. He shuddered, remembering her terrifying form. The hair on his neck stood up in fear.

'If I be a good boy, mumma will love me. Papa will love me. No one will leave me and go.' he thought, tears welling up in his eyes at the thought of being abandoned.

"Phir kya fayeda? Mujhe toh shaitani karne wala Kiyu chaiye."

She broke his chain of thoughts, nuzzling his cheek lovingly. She started to tickle him, making him wriggle on her lap as he laughed loudly with his head thrown back.

"Mumma, accha, okay. I'll, be, I'll, be a, bad boy. Bas, bas karo, mumma." He promised, his words punctuated by his joyous laughter. When Mayura stopped tickling him, he hugged her tightly and gave her a wet kiss on her cheek.

The car halted at a signal.

Kiyansh slid down her lap, making her pout. Taking off his shoes, he lay on the seat with his head on her lap. Mayura covered his tiny body with the blanket that was kept in the back seat, and he snuggled in it, looking cozy and comfortable.

The car moved again. Mayura gazed at the scenic view out of the window, her hand gently caressing her son's messy hair. The sky was a kaleidoscope of colors, clouds drifting lazily on it. The colours danced on the tree tops, flocks of birds flying back to their nests.

She looked at Kiyansh's peaceful form, his eyes were closed and fingers curled. His eyebrows furrowed lightly, making her worry.

"Kiyu, are you okay?" She asked gently, his eyes fluttering open. A lone tear rolled down his cheek, his eyes moist with unshed tears. "Kya hua, my little prince? Why are you crying? Did anyone say anything to you?"

Kiyansh wiped his tear with the back of his hand and shook his head in negative, giving her a tight smile. "I'm okay, mumma. I'm a strong boy. See, I'm not crying."

"Aur tumse kisne kaha ki strong boys don't cry, beta?" She pulled him on her lap and hugged him tightly. "Mera Kiyu ko rona hai toh woh roh sakta hai. Usko hasna hai, gaana hai, joh karna hai woh kar sakta hai. Koi tumhe rok nahi sakta."

"Mumma," he whispered, feeling safe in her arms. He hid his face in her bosom, his body trembling as he struggled hard to not cry. Mayura soothed him, gently stroking his back.

"Mumma said I'm useless. She say that papa and you will leave Kiyu. Kiyu is bekar." He sniffled, tears rolling his cheeks. "Kiyu is not bekar na, mumma? Papa and you love Kiyu no?"

Mayura tightened her hold on him, whispering sweet nothings in his ears and occasionally kissed his face.

"Mumma and Papa love the most in the world." She consoled him, rocking him on her lap. "Kiyu is the apple of their eye. Uske bina unki life ekdum feeki hai."

Hearing her words, the wall that was surrounding his heart for the past three years, and every tear and doubt he felt, crashed. His tears flowed freely as he cried and complained and sobbed in the arms of his mother.

A mother, who although not related by blood, was the best mother in his life.

A mother he was proud to have.

A mother, in whose arms he found safety.

A mother he could truly call a mother.

• TO BE CONTINUED •

हरे कृष्ण ❤❤

Heya, readers!
I hope you enjoy this short story.

It only has three chapters which will be updated soon. Probably by the end of the week.

Until the next chapter,
Ciao!