God of Fear

She was awake the whole night till 7 am. She couldn't understand why sleep never came to her this time. Typically, she was tired by the end of the day and hit the sack from fatigue even when she wanted to stay awake. Tonight though, she couldn't. She wondered if that was because she felt too much, or because she felt nothing at all. This was the only question in her life that she hadn't yet found the answer to.

So she watched movies the whole night. She is a sucker for romance, specifically those movies that cast handsome men.

Something about a man with a pretty face makes her heart pound with a frenzy apart from her expertise in painting.

Her mother asked pushing the drapes to let the window shed sunlight in her room saying, " Eka, you're up early today, surprisingly. Anything bothering you?"

"No. Pull the curtains back, please. The light hurts my eyes," she covered her eyes while yawning as the warm sunlight illuminated her caramel skin making it glow in a light, golden shade.

"Don't say that now, Eka. And don't set your phone on silent mode every night. You have thirty-seven missed calls from Tanvi. Also, I hope you remember what today is?" her mother, Nandini asked.

"I'm sorry, I don't. Kindly remind me when I'm done talking to her," said Eka while calling her unquiet colleague on the phone.

'I am so thankful to God she grew up into such a polite girl,' thought Nandini as she nodded her head and sat at the edge of Eka's bed, waiting for her to end the call.

Tanvi picked up after two rings. "Why are you so negligent, Eka?! Can you not switch your phone into silent mode every night? You must be wary of emergency calls!"

Eka giggled. "Nobody gets to interrupt my nighttime routine, Tanvi. Now, you have my apologies, so tell me what's bugging you?"

"Sanguis sold out. Again. We need to restock the paints; been receiving a ton of entreaties and demands for it from people of all age groups."

"Oh my, is that so? I feel so bad to make them wait. I need time though, for collecting the substances for the paint. Post an announcement online that the stock will be ready in a few days."

Eka threw the vitamin pills in her mouth one by one.

"You know, we would never have to ask the customers to be anticipated every month. If you just revealed the constituents to the workers, things can become a lot easier," commented Tanvi.

Eka's hand paused before she could gulp the water in her glass. Nandini wanted to ask her what's wrong but she knew it's bad phone manners to interrupt her daughter.

"I become anxious if Sanguis is not made by me, Tanvi. I am so grateful for your concern but I don't want to take the risk of mental stress. In case you're wondering, I only use natural ingredients for all my paints. It requires more delicate care than the rest. That's how it gets its reputation."

"I know, I know. Just wanted to try and get some burden off of you. You should start working on it now. Bye," said Tanvi and hung up.

"Tell me, what is it today that I've forgotten the occasion?" Eka asked her mother after she hung up.

"It's-umm...." Nandini was struggling to form a proper sentence but she couldn't bring herself to.

As if a bolt of lightning struck her, Eka suddenly remembered when she saw the date on her phone's screen.

"Of course! It's that day today. Thanks for reminding me, mom."

That made Nandini slightly smile. "But I didn't evoke that memory. Don't thank me, my dear."

"You played a part in though. I should get ready for work, and I'll also meet dad on the way."

"The world would be a better place if people were as kind as you, Eka. I think I'm the luckiest mother in this world to have had a child like you." Nandini praised her daughter. "I'll leave you now. See you tonight," she said and left.

Eka performed the tasks of her daily routine on almost autopilot mode. She already was leading quite an unpredictable life as a young artist and entrepreneur so she liked sticking to a systematic manner of daytime and nighttime routines. Whatever happens in between these two can happen at its own accord.

Eka is one of the most unrivaled painters in the country. Furthermore, she runs her line of paints that has gained a lot of acclaim over the years.

Her special shade of red color called Sanguis is an all-time hit for its texture and rich shade, but not everyone can buy it. Her company arranges an event once every two months, allowing participants to display their works. The managers and curators then judge the pieces. In the end, the top five painters receive the Sanguis paint. But no event could ever succeed to pick five winners despite having a flood of participants. Eka was never able to find the five best paintings in her events, and so the competition had increased over time, and the Sanguis was offered to only two or three winners to date.

Eka reached her office and made her way to the display hall where some of her best works hung for her and her staff to see and gain motivation.

She couldn't contain her smile as she walked in saying, "Dad, sorry I forgot what today is. Wow, you look dashing as usual. Your friends must be so jealous of your authenticity. They have to hide in something else but you, oh you get to shine like the sun in my office. I'm so proud of you dad, it almost brings me to tears."

One wall, the biggest and widest wall in her office has only one painting hung in the center and nothing else. The wall is painted white once in a few months because its only job is to make the sole painting stand out.

"Mom still wanted me to visit you first thing in the morning, so here I am. You must be very happy to see me. You don't have to say it, I understand you better than anyone else. Thanks to you, I finished your work as it became my first piece," she flashed that beaming smile that could convince anyone into getting her whatever she wants.

Tanvi came to her as soon as she spotted her. "Finally! There she is! Eka, you need to see

this. Talk to your dad later, please?"

Eka exhaled hardly from the irritating feeling of frustration that was making its way from her brain to her heart. Everything that she allowed to remain in the brain was in control of her rationality, but once her feelings reached the threshold of her emotional side, she would become...upset.

But she had to smile, of course. The rhyme her father taught her is so precious to Eka, she even lives by it.

A hug from your friends,

A smile for your enemies,

All tragedies do end,

Make with life your melodies,

Don't make evil last,

Find their heart,

Tear it apart,

When they search for you,

That's when you wear a mask.

"I didn't want you to be disturbed early in the morning. I thought I could handle this like I do every time, but we got a stubborn animal here," Tanvi huffed, blowing her bangs, leading Eka to the lobby of her office.

Eka was already running out of time to make Sanguis because it took her longer than usual to procure the core ingredient for the previously made batch. Her increasing impatience was like a tempting demon attempting to blend into her shadow, and her soul.

Every time Eka walked, people’s heads turned to her like they were possessed dolls eyeing the new tenant who moved into their haunted house. She wasn’t just a dazzling woman; she was ethereal, dreamlike with the way she carried herself like a living elixir of all the noblesse in the world.

But Eka was very mad for a reason, and it was seeping into other aspects of her life in the form of stress and frustration. She didn't want to feel this way but she couldn't help it either.

Tanvi said, "This is Mr. Dhanraj Kannan, son of the late Indira Kannan."

"Wasn't it the good lady who sold her bungalow to us for our first ever galleria?" Eka asked.

"Yep, she's the one. Now this man, oh, this wasteful man, shows up to our office asking the property back, all while in a drunken stupor."

"I see, will he then pay all the money we spent on buying and renovating the place?"

"Haven't asked him yet." Tanvi shrugged.

"Let's go talk to him then."

Tanvi raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure you want to deal with a drunk man who is trying to fight off the security guards as we speak?"

"You mustn't resort to violence, Tanvi. There's always another way."

"If you say so."

"While I talk to him, contact the neighbors of Mrs. Indira for a quick background check on him."

"Will do. But you keep your distance from him, Eka."

Dhanraj was in some fever of madness, forgetting all elegance. "Why do you Baird Loon people keep sending these frail women to me? And who're you?"

Eka spoke in a flat tone. "I'm the founder of Baird Loon, and the new owner of your deceased mother's house."

"So you are Ekaparnika Chandran. You should have showed up sooner. Don't you have any manners for your visitors?"

"Pardon me sir, but you are causing a lot of commotion in my office. You're even a drunk. Don't you think it's very unethical of you to appear in front of a woman in this immodest conduct?"

"I don't give a damn about conduct or whatever. Just give me the papers of my house and I'll let you off in one piece, and we can forget anything ever happened here."

"You're wrong about one thing. It's not your house; not in the past while your mother was alive and not even now."

Tanvi interrupted their heated conversation hastily. "Eka, come with me."

"Excuse me, Mr. Kannan. I'll be back in a moment," she said and left, accompanied by Tanvi, while Dhanraj was yelling profanities.

"Where are you heading off to? You women shouldn't work if you can't deal with a man! Worthless cows!"

Tanvi whispered, "This dude's a twisted lunatic, Eka. He's the youngest child of the family and a very spoilt one at that. He'd been somehow living through his mother's pension money despite being in his 40s, but she never let him in the house because of his violent tendencies. The neighbors say he had an eye on the property ever since his mother's health started to deteriorate. His siblings live abroad. He put up a fight even with them at the funeral right in front of their mother's coffin, asking for money. If I had a son like that, I'd have disowned him without batting an eyelash."

Eka gasped. "You're too mean, Tanvi. Disowning a child is brutal."

Tanvi rolled her eyes at that comment. "Not if it's someone like him. Eka, Eka, Eka, always the delicate flower. Anyway, now that we know enough about him, let's get this done with."

Eka nodded in agreement and off they went. As soon as she approached him, she sternly said, "Sir, we will not sell our property to you. I am politely asking you to leave-"

"How dare you tell me to leave!" His voice almost thundered in the hall. "I will bring-"

"I am not done talking sir. Do not interrupt me." She held her ground.

Eka loathed loud noise and bad odor. This man was a factory of both. She was on the verge of losing her cool.

"This is what happens when you let a woman have whatever she wants. Look here, you need to learn how to adjust to the world. Maybe you should get used to getting interrupted."

"True," she replied. "Women should have been made to learn to accustom themselves to interruption. Because then, your mother would have probably interrupted your birth even with a slight extrinsic form of motivation and I wouldn't be dealing with an imbecile like you today. I thought you were a useless animal only clad in human attire but these are the first words of wisdom you have spewed out of your rotten mouth."

Her staff was astounded by what they heard just now. Eka was never rude to a person, and to listen to her say such a brutal thing was like witnessing snowfall in midsummer. She paid no attention to the loud gasps of her spectators because she was both, angry and satisfied now. She realized she found a way to obtain the main ingredient of Sanguis pretty soon this time. She now couldn't wait to get working again.

She continued talking. "You may file a case against me, but you should know that you will lose. Remember that you have used verbal violence against me and my assistant, and physical violence against my security guards. You have also threatened me in a very cheap way. If you want a fight, I will give you war. So be my guest, gather all the influence you can. I'll gladly see you in court if I have to. The CCTV cameras have recorded everything, and we have enough testimony. Security, get him out, please."

Dhanraj sent threats her way through his fetid mouth. "You think I'll leave you alone because you're a woman? Just wait till I get my hands on you. I'll take what's mine whether you like it or not."

And while this was happening, the police arrived. Tanvi was instructed by Eka to call for the cops as she wanted to get this done as soon as possible. This would also be a lesson for everyone else not to mess with her or her company's affairs.

The constables were cuffing him as Eka spoke again, but this time, closely in his ear. "We don't ask for what's ours anymore. We simply take it. And if vermin like you don't know how to stop being so sexist, we'll take what belongs to yours too, and it begins with your freedom."

But alas, he didn't stay in his cell for long. Tanvi was informed that he was bailed out in the evening, which didn't surprise Eka.

"I'm off to make the paint, Tanvi. Expect me in a few days," Eka hugged her and got into her car.

"Does your mom know where you go off to make your paints? Do you have a hideout in a forest or the outskirts of the city? My phone never catches signals every time I call you during one of your paint-making sessions." She said.

"She doesn't. I'm the only one who knows that place. Nobody else," Eka replied.

"Be careful of Dhanraj. He might not have money but he has connections with corrupt people. He's also had a history of sexual assault."

Eka's heart began beating faster. So fast, her hands began trembling.

"I...I'll be fine, Tanvi. He's just a cheap thug with a lack of social grace. He won't go to lengths for someone of little value like me," Eka tried to assure Tanvi.

"If someone like you is someone of little value, then I'm as insignificant as a banana peel."

"But banana peel is good for the skin?"

Tanvi sighed. "Just leave, Eka. I'm so tired of your hopeful remarks."

Eka laughed. "Love you too. See you when I see you again!"

Eka drove to the highways and then to a remote place where no traffic cameras were monitoring the roads. She pulled the cover off of another car and drove to an abandoned, almost run-down hut. She went inside and took a heavy bag after changing into a t-shirt and sweatpants.

She turned off all her electronic devices after texting her mom that she would have to leave to make the paints sooner and that her mom would have to eat dinner all by herself. She felt sorry for her, but what could she do? Eka's priorities matter too, don't they?

It was almost midnight. She had been driving around in the city, through alleys and the roads filled with unhygienic and drunk men. Finally, she found what she was looking for...more like a who.

She parked her car and walked in a narrow alley, her adrenaline spiked like a mint reacting to coke. Her trembling intensified. She began to breathe hard. She took a step closer, then another, then another, till she reached him as her smile grew from the excitement.

Eka had a type. He was exactly like how she liked her men from the movies. Handsome and imprudent, a little older than her, rough but helplessly bound to a weakness disguised as his addiction.

That's how she liked the men, but not exactly for romantic reasons.

Dhanraj was too wasted to be in his senses, but the shock that washed over him made fear crawl from his spine like a centipede with sharp pincers when he felt his throat sliced from one side to another.

He gasped when he turned around and saw Eka with the bloodied hands and knife. He was even more terrified of the wickedly wide grin she wore like she was watching her favorite show.

"You're hurting my feelings, Mr. Dhanraj. You're not happy to see me. No, no, hush now, don't move," she giggled as he struggled to get out of her hold like a frantic fish out of water.

"Aren't you tired of living life like a failure? Haven't you ever wanted to accomplish something great that people would remember you by? Anything? Anything at all? Oh, that's right, I've made you incapable of speech, haven't I? My apologies, but blame the edge of the knife, my good man."

In his futile attempts, his hand managed to thwart hers which made the tiny but sharp scalpel fall a few feet away from her.

"Hmm?" She threw him down and stared at the dying man in amusement.

"Now what? The knife is gone from my hand, bravo! But now what huh? What do you plan on doing next? Running away? That would be hilarious."

Eka saw the man losing his strength right in front of her eyes. There was blood all over the place like a loose tap. She didn't look pleased now. "Oh no, no. What have I done?! This is not right!"

She knelt in front of the man, holding him with worry on her face.

"I've made a terrible, terrible mistake! I wanted to enjoy your slow and painful death but it looks like I've gone for your artery. That'll make you die sooner. This is not what I wanted! This is far from it! You're wasting so much blood!" She dug out a small container from her backpack and pushed its mouth to the area of the slit on the neck she made. "Mistakes happen all the time, don't they Mr. Dhanraj? It's in human nature to err. It's all going to be fine now. I'll end things sooner because I can't stay here for long. Congratulations, sir. You're going to be a part of history that people will cherish in their minds. Your blood will fuse with my Sanguis, and you shall become an art. My art. Now, where was the scalpel?"

Then the trembling excitement in her body had ceased. She'd had her fun.

Content with the blood she got, Eka got back to her car and took her gloves off. She changed her now red t-shirt into another one and drove to her office.

Eka suggested the security guards turn off all surveillance to save electricity, but she had an entirely different reason to do that. Nobody knew that Eka's office had a basement with a different entrance, and that basement served as the atelier of her legendary Sanguis.

She parked her car a few blocks from her office and walked to the other side of the building with only the flashlight of her phone, to another entrance that was known only to her. She got in and walked in the dark fearlessly as if it were a meadow of colorful flowers.

"Hello darkness, my old friend..." she sang and went into her cabin.

It was when she opened the door that a sound was heard, and that made her stop in her tracks. She heard papers moving followed by three footsteps.

'A thief? My lucky night. More Sanguis for me,' thought Eka as she slowly followed the sound with her scalpel ready in her hand. She was almost close to this person when the lights of her cabin turned on.

"Junaid? Junaid the architect? What on earth are you doing in my office, in my cabin, at an odd hour like this?"

Standing before her was Junaid Ali, the reclusive architect that was assigned the work of renovating the house Eka bought for the galleria.

Their interactions were very brief. Eka didn't like quiet people because it took her more effort and time to figure them out, but he was an exception to her. Although he seldom uttered words, he had never said 'no' to her and she never chanced on the opportunity to find reasons for hating him. She wanted a new wall built. He got it done. She didn't want that new wall anymore because she found a better spot to build another one after three days. He did as she instructed in the next two days without as much as a single complaint. He had a strange habit of checking his hands and legs all the time and never came close to people, not even her.

Now here he is, holding an envelope and some files that he picked up from her desk.

"Ekaparnika...hi," his voice was much clearer because of the silence of the place. Every other time she spoke to him, it felt like he was whispering because of the racket around them.

"Yeah, what a great time to greet me," she rolled her eyes. "Explain yourself, Junaid. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the cops on you for trespassing on my property after working hours."

"I wanted to put these reports on your desk..." he averted his eyes from her, now hiding the envelope behind him.

"You could have done that tomorrow. Wait a minute. Every entrance and exit is locked after the security guard leaves. How did you even get in here?" she asked him, and it struck her then.

"You never left this office, did you Junaid?"

"...no, Ekaparnika. I escaped the attention of the building guards by hiding till...none remained in the premises," he answered slowly meeting her eyes.

"What is your purpose of coming here like some bat in the night? Did Dhanraj send you to steal the documents of his mother's property? Tell me, how much did he offer you after the argument I had with him this morning?"

Junaid's eyebrows furrowed. "Dhanraj had an altercation with you?"

"Oh, don't play the innocent one for Pete's sake," she reached for her scalpel, hiding it behind the strap of her bag. "What are you here for? And what are you hiding behind your back?" she asked as she slowly walked in his direction, like a predator closing in on prey.

"It's nothing of importance. I was going to place in here, in this rack...", Junaid turned around to place the green envelope with a rose whose stem was sealed to it with salmon-colored wax.

But he didn't know he'd made a mistake by showing her his back, because she wasted no time in piercing him with her scalpel.

'You're not a bad guy, but I don't leave chances for evidence, Junaid. No offense' thought Eka as she applied more pressure to her weapon so it may injure him badly enough to immobilize his body. The blood oozing out of his back consumed the pure white of his shirt vividly like a blooming hibiscus on a bright spring morning.

She waited to see his face as he was turning to look at her. Eyes bleeding emotions of betrayal, sadness, realization, and every other melancholic feeling overflowing from them. She had seen it all before.

But it never came.

"This is the first time you have touched me," he smiled looking at her, while Eka was left puzzled with his reaction.

"...what?" came out her question. It was a query she was asking him and herself at the same time.

'Did I hear him right? If I did, what is wrong with this guy?' she thought while looking into his eyes, searching for any trace of anguish, but she found nothing. What she did notice, was elation.

She took a step closer to him and he took one back.

"You don't touch anyone except for your assistant. But that's changed today, hasn't it?" he asked with ardor.

The sound of the blade stuck in his back hitting the wall made him pause. Despite that, without breaking eye contact with her, he reached to touch the source of the sound, and his eyes widened when he felt the scalpel in his skin. He plucked it out of his back as if uprooting a plant from the soil.

Eka wanted to slice his throat right there, but the knife he was holding is the only one she currently has in possession.

"It was the knife that made contact with my skin, not your hands? I guess I got too happy for no reason," he mumbled to himself as he laid two tissues on her table and placed the knife on it.

"Wouldn't want to stain your table with my blood," he replied, carefully wrapping the sharp object.

Eka's knives were everything to her. They were her faithful friends, her other body parts. Now she had none on her. Her body had begun to drain its heat, and her palms were turning cold. She was experiencing what she made other people experience. Fear. It would be hard to take on a grown man who is at least three inches taller than her, but from his expressions, he doesn't seem like he would hurt her.

His question is making her wonder if he's a mentally deranged man.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked him psyched with frustration.

"You swear? You never swear at people, Ekaparnika. Not that you can't; this is a new experience for me. I have learned something today. You can swear. And don't worry about the knife. I know you did it for self-defense, but I'll have to impose on you for a first-aid kit. Can you please help me out? I don't know where the injury is."

Eka felt like she was in an entirely different dimension in the universe with the way Junaid was talking to her.

"If you think I'm secretly working for Dhanraj, that is a terrible misconception because I would never do that. My fidelity lies with you, Ekaparnika. I may not claim to be a good guy, but I'm not a bad one either. Tomorrow is Valentine's day, so I wanted to gift you a card and a flower. You weren't curious about who left flowers in your vase every day, so I decided to up my game this way."

The soft orchestra of crickets in the room was loud for Eka. She remembered asking Tanvi who replaced the flowers with new ones in the vase every alternate day, whose response mimicked Eka's unawareness.

Now she caught her secret admirer in action.

"Why, aren't you just the detrimental thing who doesn't even flinch at my strike on your back?"

"That's uh...that's because I can't feel pain," he replied, looking at the ground.

Three seconds of silence followed.

"I beg your pardon? Did you just say you can't feel pain?" Eka asked, clearly baffled.

"It's called Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis, or CIPA for short. I haven't told this to anyone else, ever. You're the third person who knows."

CIPA. She had heard of that condition when she toured through one of the hospitals that sought her out for charitable funds. The victims never felt any pain at all and had to be under constant care and surveillance.

One might gravitate to the opinion that feeling no pain is a good thing.

But bearing that thought alone is a sheer absurdity, thought Eka.

Here stood a man with a bleeding back but a beaming face, as if standing before him was the sole reason for his entire existence.

Eka opened a cupboard that stored a few first-aid boxes, thinking she could perhaps spare his life as the beyond-gullible man weaved the reason of her charging at him all by himself. This saved her time and space for hiding a potential corpse in the basement.

"Who were the first two, then?" Eka asked as she sat him down on the couch and opened the kit.

Junaid tried to occupy a minimum area on the huge, plush couch, and he wasn't looking at the woman who poured an antiseptic liquid onto a piece of cotton.

He turned around, showing her his broad shoulders and slouched back, and took off his shirt. He didn't hiss or jerk back from the sting of the liquid. "The first person to know was my mother, of course, my biological mother. The second one was Mother Agnes from the Seraphina Ministries. And now, you."

Eka couldn't pay attention to his words immediately because she was busy detecting the crowds of scars on his back. Two seconds later, when she replayed Junaid's words in her mind, she ascertained that something didn't add up.

"Ministries?" she paused and bent her neck forward to look upon his face, which he turned to the opposite side as if he wanted to shield it from her.

"Yes, that's where I was raised after my mother gave me away."

"Hmm...Ministries. Is that what they're calling orphanages these days?" Eka pronounced, sticking the last piece of plaster on the cotton placed to cover the wound she caused.

His sudden wince at the sound of the word 'orphanages' didn't go unnoticed by her but she didn't say a word about it further, and nor did he.

Slightly moved with the man before her, Eka almost told him to get the wound checked at a hospital later but stopped because she couldn't guarantee if she could let him go alive by dawn.

She wanted amusement, so she would derive it by gently clawing her way through his biography, making him say more interesting and sad things to fascinate her.

She could always get rid of him if she became bored, of course. He was bigger than her, but she knew the human body's vital points better. The practice has made her perfect.

Then she also had to merge the paints with blood while it was still warm, fresh, and crimson, but not for long because she never freezes it. She had no reason to hide or store her gory trophies because she used them right away after achieving them.

"How can you be sure it was your mother who put you in an orphanage? It may have been your father too," she said, picking her scalpel and cleaning it with another pair of tissues and placing it back in the rightful place of her pocket.

Junaid slipped his lanky arms in the sleeves of his shirt and was buttoning them up, still not showing her his face, tense with the sudden closeness to her.

"No, it wasn't my father. He has been six feet under for years now."

Her estimation was correct after all. He's a sad man with a sad story. It would be as sorrowfully nourishing as reading through a novel.

"And what of your mother? What motivated her to put you under the ministry's care at an age when you remember the incident?" she asked him, taking the bottle of blood from her bag and placing it on the table.

His bearing didn't waver. "My mother was a miserable woman with four children to take care of, the last one born with a strange sickness...me. She wasn't highly educated, which led her to closed doors of job opportunities. My maternal and paternal grandparents lived with my uncles, so it was evident that feeding five more mouths would be difficult, and I was a huge burden for someone as distraught as my mother. So, when I was six years old, she took me to the gates of the orphanage and told me to go inside. She warned me to never disclose the fact that I had a parent...a family. When I agreed, she promised to visit me from time to time and left. Everything else was history when I joined the ministry."

"I am sorry for what has happened to you, but I don't see why you would tell me, a stranger these terrible secrets, but since you trust me enough to narrate the story of your life, I feel thankful. Are you lactose intolerant, Junaid?" she asked him, heading to the doors of her cabin.

Unable to comprehend the relation to her question and the previous sentence, he finally raised his head to look at her. "No, but why do you ask?"

"I was going to offer you some milk from the refrigerator. Its proteins aid in a faster recovery, since you were the victim of my assault."

Junaid stood up awkwardly. "I have already broken the law with my presence in your office in the night, Ekaparnika. I am still pondering over how you can be so calm and forgiving when I've committed a crime. I wouldn't want to impose on you more than I already have. I don't know what you have come back to the office for, but it must be for good reason. I don't want to waste any more of your time. I shall depart-"

"Don't worry about it. You never gave me trouble, as far as I remember. Don't beat yourself up for staying back. I believe you have good reason to do what you did. About the flower and the card, I expect answers when I get back from the pantry. You will divulge, won't you Junaid?" she asked.

"Yes, Ekaparnika," he replied.

"Good. I'll be back in a moment, excuse me," she shut the doors behind her and left to burn the blood-soaked tissues and gloves in the basement before fetching Junaid his milk.

Back in her cabin, Junaid was tizzy beyond normal. He was always nervous around Eka but this time, he would tell her the truth, all the while looking at her face, into the earthy umbers of her eyes.

'It had to happen someday or the other. She should know how I feel about her,' thought he, to himself.

Keeping his mouth moving in speech only when necessary had caused him to have bad breath, which is why he always carried around mints with him and made sure to pop them once every few hours.

Funny to think he would rather have his tongue and palate chafed by the mints than making conversation with people regularly, like a normal person.

'I would have to be normal in the first place to pull that off,' he thinks.

“Sorry for making you wait. Here you go, a nice and cool glass of milk to refresh you up,” smiled Eka while handing him the glass.

Junaid gingerly received the delicate glass from her and sipped the milk. “Oh my, this is too...”

“Bitter? I’d be very embarrassed if the milk has gone bad,” She sat upright instantly.

“No, I was going to say it’s too sweet. I don’t mind that though,” he made a thumbs-up and returned to gulping the milk in one go.

“Would you like some more? I never observed you well, but you look famished,” she asked.

Junaid’s heart leapt at the concern she was showing him, that poor boy. “No, thank you. I’m full now.”

If only he knew what was coming for him.

“But spoilt milk tastes sour, not bitter, Ekaparnika” he smiled at her remark but remembered that she was born with a silver spoon, excusing her off the instances of chancing upon spoilt food even by mistake. He saw she wasn’t smiling at his little joke, which made him frown with shame. He rose from the couch, holding the glass, and made his way to the doors of her cabin.

“Where are you going, Junaid? You said you would give me answers,” Eka blocked his way before he could even step out of her cabin.

Junaid was startled with her suddenly appearing before him and instinctively took a step back as soon as he caught the scent of a mild fragrance. “I was going to wash this glass and put it back in its place. I can’t let your...palms risk losing moisture while you use dish-washing soap, nor can I leave it as it is because the remnants would dry up by the time the cleaning staff shows up, which is tomorrow.”

It hadn’t struck her till now, even when he told her previously that he brought her a card and a flower for Valentine’s day.

Her brain had recalled every romance genre movie at that moment and she realized it now.

Junaid Ali may have feelings for her.

“It surprises me how meticulous...ly kind you are. How can I stop you if you insist? Be careful on your way. The halls are darker than black paint,” she stepped aside and gestured her hand to the darkness that lay before them like thick, opaque mist hiding enigmas one wouldn’t want to discover.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Ekaparnika. I turned the main switchboards on, so all I’ll have to do is turn the switches on wherever I go.”

Saying that, off he went.

Eka was transfixed by this man. No doubt, they had met many times before, but she never paid heed to him. Listening to him respond to her questions was like noticing a dully colored butterfly with broken wings that visits the flora of her garden every day. But it is only now that it caught her attention.

Junaid was walking through the office as if he were on a path of hot red coal. His condition made him prey to anything and everything that can harm him because he wouldn’t know if something struck him.

Very carefully, he made his way to the kitchen and did exactly what he told Eka he would do. Nothing more, nothing less.

The sound of a notification from his phone startled him when he was walking back to Eka’s cabin with his eyes on her, and hers on him.

Before he could unlock the screen of his phone with his thumb, Eka asked him a question.

“Why do you say my name so many times?”

He did not know if it was because of the sudden exposure to the light emanating from her cabin that strained his eyes or the lack of sleep for three nights that he spent writing her the card for the next day’s Valentine’s day.

But that did not stop him from responding to her while gazing upon her questioning face.

“You do not like to touch or be touched by people, so all that remains for me that connects to you is your name alone. How else do I revere you?”

Eka was taken aback by his response, but sadly she could not find the time to absorb his reply because he was looking at the screen of his phone as if he had seen a demon.

“Ekaparnika, I think you should stay somewhere safe for a few days. I have just received a message from one of your employees, stating that you murdered Mr. Dhanraj and that the police are currently looking for you. You need to h-,” Junaid almost placed his phone back in his pocket when a tremendous wave of dizziness washed over him. He rubbed his temples and fell to the ground, his groans echoing in the dark of the office.

Eka took the phone from his hand and scrolled through the news article link which contained the footage of her stabbing the man. She giggled while Junaid could only stare at her with foggy vision.

“I thought it would take you a few more minutes to fall unconscious. I guess my calculation was wrong.”

“What? What do you mean, Ekaparnika?” Junaid asked, trying his best to keep his senses.

She knelt beside him, and from the lights of the cabin behind her, she appeared like an ethereal being from heaven, quite the opposite of her true personality.

“I know milk tastes sour when it’s gone bad. I asked you if it tasted bitter because I thought I had mixed too many sedative pills in it. It’s my first time using them you see. I usually kill selected people on sight.”

“No, Ekaparnika. Why have you become a...monster?” his question vanished in the end like a shrouded ghost before he gave into the darkness. Not of the office, but his mind.

She dragged his body to the basement, talking to the man, aware he wasn’t currently capable of hearing or replying to her. “That is the remarkable detail about me, Junaid. Humans become monsters, but I was born from one. So I belong on a superior level of evil. You wouldn’t understand. Normal people never do.”

She turned off Junaid’s phone and shoved it on her bag. She also turned some of the lights of the office on, such as the kitchen, the corridors. The basement had a separate main switchboard of its own, so she didn’t have to deal with it much. The white noise of the Television with the news reporters warning citizens of the area in and around Eka’s office to not step out because a female serial killer was not heavy enough to bother her as she mixed the blood in her red paint, satisfaction slowly blooming in her face as it turned a demonic, thick red. That’s all that matters to her.

She looked at the tied-up Junaid closely now. His mouth parted a little, and the growing stubble under his chin showed. A faint scar traced its way like an unlucky comet traveling from his right jaw to the side of his ear, but how craftily he had hidden it away with the columnar mass of shaggy hair that fell before his ear. Anyone could tell it was an unusual haircut. Prim and proper all over, but unkempt at the ears. She looked at the veins visible on his eyelids and noticed that his eyes were moving.

Either he was having a night terror, or he was pretending to be unconscious.

She didn’t care either way. She just wanted her job to be done, and she currently didn’t see any reason to kill this man, because:

1. He wasn’t handsome, which was her consistently preferred choice of men.

2. He posed no threat to her or her company. He was also pretty timid, a borderline pushover.

Eka was finished with her job, so she got bored because nothing else interested her. And she wasn’t in a mood to watch another rom-com too, so she locked the basement with Junaid inside, and went to her cabin. She opened the shelf in which the unconscious man had placed the flower and the letter.

She knew she was a tragedian of her own story, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t engage in reading a silly love letter for the temporary fun of it. Besides, he would despise her after he wakes up, so she wanted to savor the experience before it died in the abyss of the dark halls.

So she ripped the envelope open and began to read:

"Dear Ekaparnika,

I am exceedingly terrified of the consequences of having you read this letter. It is indeed disgraceful that this exposition of my feelings for you had to commence with fear. I can’t help it, because that is what you rouse in me, along with other emotions. You are selflessly kind and generous, and I have never understood why. You are so close to me physically during our encounters, but I don’t get why you still feel so far from me like you belong to another world altogether.

I first saw you a few months ago. It was a night with no moon or stars, maybe because they wanted to help you become one with the dark. I was minding my own business like I always do in a street, and there you were, appearing from the shadows of the alley, filthy but vehement with mud smeared all over you like you were a sculpture of clay, and blood on your face as if the Gods had to pour some of theirs into your mouth to finally bring the sculpture back to life. I didn’t like you then. I was just immensely shocked and taken aback.

Maybe, unbeknownst to me, I made you my deus ex machina. I don’t know what drew me to you. Maybe it was the fact that you liked inflicting pain, while I often tried finding ways to feel it. I feel no physical pain, and it’s a pity I can’t distract myself from the pain that stings in my heart from loneliness. I began to get curious about you. Forgive me for this, but I had to stalk you to know where you worked, what you did. I thought you were a wronged loner of some kind, like me. How wrong was I when I saw you surrounded by people of all kinds and bearings. In the beginning, I was furious, later, envious. But that too, to my concern had turned into something else. Something I never imagined would happen to me. I don’t think ‘love’ is the exact word, but it will suffice for now, because my knowledge of vocabulary is limited outside the realm of architecture. I didn’t want to name this feeling I had for you into anything at all, but alas, I became a sufferer to you or my inner self, I don’t know. The only thing I know is that you must learn the last morsel of the feelings I have for you. Everyone knows and I do too, that someone incomplete and defective like me is not a man worth your time, but this has to be done because if I don’t let you know, the strength of my mind will leave me.

This is what Aladin must have felt when he fell in love with Jasmine. Frustrated, fearful, anxious, desperate.

Nevertheless, who would have thought a man who cannot feel any pain seeks the affection of a woman who lives for it?

Help me out here, Ekaparnika. I can’t help but be drawn to you, so you need to push me away if you cannot give back my feelings for you. I would have tried doing something to curb these severe feelings of mine, but I can’t find a way to stop. Had I fallen in love before, I’d have learned to hurt all by myself and move on. But this is the first time I realize how helpless I am. Even if you reject me, I shall never disclose to any one of your hobbies in the shadows. The only thing I need you to do for me is helping me lessen my burden.

- Love,

Junaid Ali"

If she were in her basement that moment, she would have sliced Junaid’s tongue and ears off and given him a slow, painful death.

Ekaparnika considered herself the epitome of perfection in art and murder. To know that someone had caught her red-handed and yet chose to keep mum about it for God knows how many months felt like a sort of charity or an act of mercy to her. She hated being indebted to people. Even his earnest confession wouldn’t change that. But she wouldn’t let her anger take control of her decisions. She wouldn’t kill him right away, at least not until she’s gotten some answers. So she went downstairs and injected a shot of adrenaline into him without even wasting time to find a vein, causing Junaid to gain consciousness with a gasp.

“Oh well, look whose letter I just read. Does fear of death mean nothing to you? Risking your life for the same feelings you can’t even express verbally, was it worth all this? What else have you been hiding regarding me?”

“...water,” came out the word from his mouth, as if this is the third day he’s been stranded on a desert with no nourishment.

Ekaparnika pushed a bottle of water in his mouth and forced him to gulp down the entire thing.

“There’s the water. Now speak or I shall shove a bottle of acid down your throat in the same fashion.”

“I’m sorry I hid it from you, but I didn’t know how to approach you with this in mind.”

“Are you feeling sorry for not being able to tell me you knew I was a murderer sooner? Are you all right in the head?”

“I believe I am, yes. Why?”

Ekaparnika couldn’t believe what she was hearing at that moment.

“You’re such a half-baked nincompoop. Seriously, tell me. Is this some plan you’ve formulated with the police to catch me red-handed?”

“If that were the case, you’d been caught ages ago. I know nothing about this is sensical but trust me. I did want to hand you over to the police, yes, but I changed my mind when I understood your tastes in the victims you choose. The snobby, the rich, the perverted predators. It made sense. In the beginning, I was only curious. As time passed, I grew fascinated, and before I knew it, I fell in-”

She drove a knife to the side of his face on the chair, which almost went through. “Don’t complete that statement! Don’t you dare.”

“I don’t know what it is you will accomplish with killing handsome men but you’ve been revealed now. The police are looking for you everywhere. What do you plan to do? The last time a female serial killer in this country was caught, she received life imprisonment for the murder of six women. She would have been given the death penalty but only circumstantial evidence was found against her, so they couldn't punish her with that. But now, there is proof, and soon more will be dug out from the ground.”

She walked to the painting that her father had left incomplete more than a decade ago.

“I have a very good reason for what I do. A good story too. Let me narrate it for you. Once upon a time, there was a famous painter who was known to use only red and black for his painting. He also had a very happy family - a prodigal daughter and a lovely wife. But all was not in happiness. That was but a show for the media. The mother was a victim of the father who made her his punching bag in times of stress. The daughter was in a world of her own, aware of everything but too busy pursuing perfection. She also thought her mother would have stood up to herself but if she didn’t, that meant she was weak. And the daughter hated weak people. One fateful night, the daughter had somehow lost her wits and pushed her father from the terrace of the house while he was under the heavy influence of alcohol. She was trying to study but the kicks and wails were distracting her. She calmly waited for the mother to retreat to her bedroom and fall asleep after taking a sleeping pill when she did the deed. She walked down to her father’s broken body when a marvelous idea took birth in her mind. She would complete her father’s current painting, through him. Through his blood. She broke a nail off his hand and used it to find his carotid artery. And when she did, the warm and thick gush of blood embraced her in a way she had never been comforted before. She collected some of it and hid it away after calling the ambulance. That man’s history of abuse was revealed and it was declared that he fell off the roof while drunk and when he did fall, somehow his fingernail had cut off the main artery in his neck, leading to his death from blood loss. That little girl finished his painting and went on to become a famous gifted girl who prospered in the face of tragedy before the world.”

Junaid looked paler, but that didn’t stop him from putting forth his inquisitiveness. “So you’re that girl. I get it. Trauma does horrible things to people and sometimes makes them do horrible things too.”

“Of course you'd get it. Humans’ experiences may differ from one another but one doesn’t need any language to understand or express pain. Now acknowledge this. My father’s painting is not complete yet. But now it will be. It has been my sole wish to complete my father’s painting in a way that pleases me. And this vial is my last one. No more blood, no more killing after this. Peace will come when I finish the painting. It was called God of Fear.”

Junaid squinted his eyes to see her in the dark side of the room.

He said, “Yes, I’ve seen it hung on the wall. I don’t quite get what’s so attractive about it. It’s just a child standing before a red door. How is that scene connected to the name ‘God of Fear’?”

She brought the unfinished canvas and began applying strokes on it with the blood-paint mix.

“Glad you asked,” said she. “The painting is more of a riddle. It’s a simple painting of a person standing in front of a closed door. Which one is the God of fear? The silence encompassing the canvas? The door? Or what lies behind the door?”

Junaid replied timidly, “What lies behind the door?”

Eka shook her head. ”If that were the case, we’d somehow know how to fight it. But alas, we don’t. The answer is the beholder. It’s the person itself who’s the God of their fear. It’s their mind. Because deep down we know there’s probably nothing behind the door. It’s just your mind interpreting the silence and the wind into being something ominous.”

“I see...”, was all that came out of Junaid’s mouth as he was busy absorbing this new revelation. “Can you please untie me now? You know I mean you no harm.”

Eka scoffed at his face. “Even if you did, you wouldn’t last long enough to strike me.” She yanked his ropes free so hard, the force pushed him off the chair.

Junaid snickered as he fell to the ground. “You know, you’re the kind of person I would write a book about and have it deliberately banned.”

The corners of her lips twitched upward and fell in a second. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He dusted himself off and awkwardly walked around the basement to inspect her canvases and brushes. “Have you ever seen a therapist for your...”

“I have no reason to. Besides, that would give my competitors a chance to lay claims that Ekaparnika Chandran is not of ‘sound mind’. I’d rather chop off my own hands than have some low-class douchebags aim for my dignity.”

Junaid mustered the courage as big as a mountain and asked her a question daringly.

"Share your burdens with me?"

To this, surprisingly she smiled, saying, "My burdens are my secrets, and my secrets are needles. Nobody else can bear the pain of listening to them, so I bear my pain alone. Sometimes, these needles reach the tip of my tongue all the way from the pit of my stomach, but at the last second, I remember that people only want a story, not a chance to give help. So I swallow my needles again, learning the same lesson but with fresh pain, that nobody is trustworthy. I will share my burdens the day I come to know you can suffer for me as much as I have suffered from my pain. That day, I will pour my needles into your throat. That day, you truly become someone I can confide in."

‘As a friend or as a man?’, he wanted to ask but decided against it.

Instead, he asked her this. "Why do you talk about giving me pain like it's a rite of passage?"

"Love is just another form of pain. How will I know you will never judge me for my pain, or the reasons for it? That's why the day you love the worst of me is the day I will accept you, but I wonder if such a day will really dawn on you."

He didn’t know if he was supposed to feel happy or sad that she had such a depressing view of such emotions.

So he simply sat in a chair and watched her do her work. A while later, an idea struck his mind.

“Ekaparnika, how about I surrender myself to the police as the main culprit?”

That made her pause.

“How did you think of this? Have you lost it?”

“No, listen. Look, I have no other way of proving my feelings for you plainly than this one. It would make a lot of sense for an orphan to become a serial killer with a probable hatred for the world than an affluent woman who comes from a civilized family with a good upbringing. I can just confess that I was the one that forced you into committing these heinous crimes just for the fun of it. It would be troublesome for a while but given the circumstances, you’ll be set free an innocent woman. This is an almost-fool-proof plan.”

Eka didn’t even spare him an expression. “That’s a kind offer but I ride my destiny. Nobody else is allowed. I will do things as I have always planned. Can’t have some one-sided inamorato change the course of things.”

Junaid didn’t like the way her eyes lowered to the ground as she spoke those words. “And what is it that you plan to do?”

She turned around without looking at him, saying, “You’ll see.”

Her painting was finished when dawn broke, smeared by the blood of her victims that she used at different times. The painting if earlier mysterious, was now full-fledged sinister.

Junaid had dozed off in a corner, oblivious to a phone-call Eka made, letting the police know of her whereabouts. Her ultimate goal was now complete. She had done a better job than her father, at least that's what she thought, and she took refuge in it as a coping mechanism to prevent her from resorting to self-destruction. She may have been restlessly pursuing blood from uncouth people but she knew ethics and religion well too. She had been preparing for this moment since the day she killed her father with her own hands. The faint, lingering wish of wanting to get her hands on every such vile man and cut his throat off vanished when she saw Junaid's sleeping form, trusting and unwary in the presence of a murderer. She still couldn't register what he saw in her actions that made him rest his faith in her, a feat even she couldn't accomplish.

'Maybe in another world, in another time, I would make no haste of attempt in liking you. Just maybe,' she thought when a loud banging on the door interrupted her thoughts.

The door to the basement was kicked open by a battalion of police officers who caught Eka and cuffed her, with the scene turning vividly tense as Junaid, who was now jolted awake, screamed and begged them to leave her.

“Son, you’ve been here one night. It’s too soon for Stockholm Syndrome! You're safe with us,” an officer pulled him back and tried to talk some sense into him. But what could anyone else do to bring him back? Junaid wasn’t there anymore. He had left with her the moment she was taken away from the room. He stilled like stagnant water in a ditch as soon as she was out of sight.

So many things would have been right, in his view, if he took the blame. He had so many chances to approach her and speak his mind. He wasn’t sure but his feelings for her provided the possibility that he could have maybe attempted to make her see the world in a better light.

But that hope perished when he looked around the basement. No. She wouldn’t change despite his most sincere efforts, and it wouldn’t be because she was blind to it, but simply because she was more determined to adamantly have it her way.

He did take note of how she didn’t struggle or protest when she was in their hold...as if she had seen it coming, as if she wanted to go.

Days passed in a flash with Junaid getting interrogated continuously. He knew it would be futile to take the blame. If anything else, he’d just be the clown, the lovesick fool with mental disorders. And he wouldn't mind if that were to be the case if it meant he could save her, but it obviously wouldn't be that way. So he told the police everything he knew, everything he saw.

It was declared that she was sentenced to prison for a lifetime. It was better than being executed.

Her painting gained immense popularity for its gory elements. What made it unrealistically horrifying attracted the people.

And despite everything, she refused to meet Junaid, the only visitor, for months. Not even her mother had wanted to visit her unholy daughter.

One day though, Junaid’s prayers were heard, but not in a way he’d expect. He received a note when he came to meet her. The warden told him she had cut her wrist early in the morning with a rusted but sharp nail. Nobody knew how she got hold of it, but she had already been dead cold when she was found.

He didn’t believe someone as prideful as her would commit suicide until he read what she wrote in that paper with a few droplets of blood decorating it.

“To whichever supervisor who finds this, please hand this note to Junaid Ali who visits me like the mad man he is.

Junaid,

Now you have my needles in your stomach. I had to leave because he who kills by the knife must die by the knife. Peace, has come.”