As Sally and Henry reached their bedroom, Sally was on verge of a breakdown. Her anxiety won’t let her sleep. The face won’t leave her mind for once. With her knees driven closer to her chin, to and fro she was rocking restlessly.
Henry “Darling get a hold of yourself. I told you it’s nothing. Come on stop overthinking and take this” handed her a tranquilizer, something which is she habituated to on and off since a year post a traumatic incident that left her memories and mind scarred.
“Oh dear I don’t want you to treck down those bloody trails again. You have to trend your path out of it. Hold my hand, l will see you out of it” Henry murmured softly caressing Sally’s hair sitting near her head rest as she slowly slipped off into deep slumber.
Henry and Sally met each other two years ago at an official party thrown by Sally’s father, a wealthy businessman. Henry went there as an associate working in Mr.Philip’s organisation who is a friend to Mr.Pattinson, Sally’s father. Sparks flew instantly as their gaze met. Party was over but they kept meeting repeatedly. Henry was a charmer in true sense. He swept Sally off her feet when he proposed her in a style just as a page out of fairy tale after 8 months of knowing each other. However Sally was a bit sceptical about the acceptance of this alliance by her father. But soon that fear also got washed to the shore as Pattinson said “I always liked you my boy, you got your plans so right…. be it profession or personal. You two have my approval”.
Sally could have never been so happy. But her happiness flickered away shortly. Approximately after 15 days her father approved of her relationship with Henry, She was with her friends as she got a call on her phone. It was her father.
“Yes Papa” she spoke to him in high spirits but not reciprocated in the same tone. All she could hear is muffled voices and in the background a cruel wicked voice.
She rushed to her home in a jiffy. Just as she reached the house she collapsed to see her father in a pool of blood. Head smothered, neck strangulated, nails pulled out and innumerable stabbings. She was in a state of shock that she forgot to vent out a cry. Tears froze in her eyes as she looked at her father lie there lifeless. And the final blow to her soul was the reflection of a masked face smeared by blood in the glass pane of the garden as a figure halted to take a final stare at the havoc just unleashed. The mask had a quirky, cold hearted smirk on it or was it just an eruption of the one beneath that layer…