CHAPTER 21:HOW A MONSTER WAS BORN

....

A story of beginning

In the dimly lit corridor of the hospital, a lone figure sits hunched against the wall, his small frame engulfed by the sterile surroundings.

His once vibrant clothes are now stained with crimson, stark against the pale linoleum floor. His gaze is distant, haunted by the events that led him here.

The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast an unforgiving glow, illuminating the silent turmoil etched on his face. Passersby glance at him with a mix of concern and unease, unsure of how to approach the scene unfolding before them. In this moment of quiet chaos, the boy remains a solitary figure, a poignant reminder of the fragility of life within the confines of the hospital walls.

He sat against the cold, white wall of the hospital corridor, his hands trembling as he tried to make sense of the chaos that had unfolded before him. Blood stained his clothes, a vivid reminder of the events that had led him to this moment. His mind raced with fragments of memories, each one more haunting than the last.

He muttered to himself, trying to piece together the sequence of events that had brought him here. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor, mingling with the distant hum of medical equipment. His heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to push back the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf him.

Images flashed through his mind - the screech of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, and the desperate cries for help. He closed his eyes, willing the memories to fade away, but they lingered like a specter haunting his every thought.

His hands clenched into fists as he grappled with the weight of guilt and confusion. How had everything gone so wrong? What could he have done differently to prevent this tragedy? The questions swirled in his mind, relentless in their pursuit of answers that seemed forever out of reach.

Lost in his own thoughts, he barely noticed the concerned glances of passersby or the soft murmur of voices around him. All he could focus on was the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to consume him whole. In that moment, sitting alone in the hospital corridor, he felt utterly and completely lost.

FIRST PERSON POV

I press my back against the sterile hospital wall, the cold seeping through my clothes and sending shivers down my spine.

My eyes are fixed on the crimson stains that mar my once-clean attire, each blotch a painful reminder of the chaos that erupted moments ago.

I mutter to myself, my words barely audible amidst the clamor of the bustling corridor.

My hands tremble as they trace the outline of the stains, fingers lingering on the evidence of the tragedy that unfolded before my eyes.

The memories flood back, relentless in their assault on my senses.

The screech of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, the piercing screams that pierced the air - they replay in my mind like a never-ending nightmare.

Guilt gnaws at my insides as I grapple with the what-ifs and could-have-beens. Could I have acted differently? Could I have prevented this tragedy? The questions torment me, taunting me with their elusive answers.

Lost in my own turmoil, I barely register the concerned glances of passersby or the distant hum of activity around me.

All I can feel is the weight of responsibility crushing down on me, threatening to suffocate me with its relentless force.

In this moment, sitting alone in the hospital corridor, I am consumed by a sense of despair unlike anything I've ever known. It hangs heavy in the air, suffusing every breath I take with its suffocating presence. And as I stare at the bloodstains on my clothes, I know that the road to redemption will be long and fraught with uncertainty.

....

When I was just 8 years old, life threw me a curveball - blood cancer. It was a diagnosis that turned my world upside down, trapping me in a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape. For five agonizing years, I was confined to the four walls of my home, my only companions the relentless pain and the suffocating sense of isolation.

As the youngest and only son in my family, the burden weighed heavily on my shoulders.

There were moments when the crushing weight of depression threatened to swallow me whole, when the darkness seemed endless and insurmountable.

But through it all, I clung to one flickering beacon of hope - the desire to see my family smile again.

My parents, bless their souls, spared no expense in their efforts to save me.

They borrowed money from relatives, their pride wounded but their love unwavering. It was a debt that weighed heavily on my fragile shoulders, a constant reminder of the sacrifices made on my behalf.

Alone and frail, I turned to education as a lifeline, a glimmer of light in the suffocating darkness.

Starting from scratch, I painstakingly taught myself to read and write, my fingers tracing the curves of each letter with trembling determination. It was a slow and arduous process, but I refused to be defeated.

And then, at the age of 18, came a moment of triumph - I passed one of the most difficult exams of my life. It was a victory that filled me with a sense of pride and accomplishment, a rare moment of joy amidst the endless sea of despair.

But as I approached the sanctuary of my home, eager to share my triumph with my parents, my heart sank.

The sight of police officers and fire force guarding the entrance sent a chill down my spine, the ominous presence casting a shadow over my hopes and dreams.

In that moment, the fragile threads of hope that had sustained me for so long snapped, leaving me adrift in a sea of despair.

The realization that my sanctuary had been shattered, my family torn apart by forces beyond my control, was a blow from which I feared I would never recover.

As I approached the group of police officers with a mixture of concern and tension, I directed my question to the nearest one. "What happened here?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

The police officer looked at me for a moment, his gaze measuring and unreadable. Then, with a somber expression, he replied, "A gas pipeline was blasted."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, my mind reeling with the implications of such a catastrophic event.

The tension in the air seemed to thicken as I struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the situation.

"Is everyone okay?" I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

The police officer nodded solemnly. "We're still assessing the situation," he said, his tone grave. "But it looks like there have been casualties."

My stomach churned at the thought, a wave of nausea washing over me as I tried to process the devastating news.

The world around me seemed to blur as I struggled to make sense of the chaos unfolding before my eyes.

In that moment, all I could do was pray for the safety of those affected and brace myself for the difficult road ahead.

Desperation welled up inside me as I pleaded with the police officer. "Please, my parents might still be inside. Let me go in and check on them."

But the officer's response was firm and unwavering. "I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous. The fire is still raging," he said, his tone tinged with sympathy.

A surge of fear gripped my heart at his words, the realization sinking in that my parents could be trapped in the midst of the chaos. I felt helpless, powerless to do anything but stand by and wait for news.

With a heavy heart, I watched as firefighters battled the inferno, their brave efforts a stark reminder of the perilous situation unfolding before me.

All I could do was pray for their safety and cling to the hope that somehow, against all odds, my parents would emerge unscathed from the devastation.

Hope flickered to life within me as another voice broke through the chaos, bringing with it a glimmer of possibility. "Sir, we found two people. One is still alive," the voice announced.

Relief flooded through me, mingled with a renewed sense of urgency. "That could be my parents!" I exclaimed, my voice trembling with emotion.

The police officer nodded, his expression softening slightly. "We'll do everything we can to get them out safely," he assured me, his words a beacon of hope in the darkness.

With bated breath, I watched as rescue workers sprang into action, their movements swift and purposeful as they worked to extricate the survivors from the rubble.

Every passing moment felt like an eternity, each second laden with the weight of uncertainty.

And then, finally, came the moment I had been praying for. Amidst the chaos and devastation, emerged two figures, battered but alive. Tears of relief streamed down my cheeks as I rushed forward, enveloping them in a tight embrace.

In that moment, as I held my parents close, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude wash over me. Despite the odds, despite the dangers that lurked around every corner, we had emerged from the darkness together, stronger and more united than ever before.

As I embraced my parents, a surge of relief washed over me, but it was short-lived.

Their burns were severe, the marks of the inferno etched deep into their flesh. Despite their injuries, they looked at me with love and concern, their eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and determination.

Suddenly, their strength waned, and they collapsed in my arms.

Panic surged through me as I cried out for help, my voice raw with desperation. "Ambulance! We need an ambulance here!"

Frantic, I cradled them close, trying to shield them from further harm as I awaited help. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I watched, helpless, praying for a miracle amidst the chaos.

Finally, the wail of sirens pierced the air, a beacon of hope in the darkness. Paramedics rushed to our side, their skilled hands working quickly to stabilize my parents and transport them to safety.

As the ambulance disappeared into the night, carrying my loved ones away to receive the medical care they so desperately needed, I felt a profound sense of gratitude wash over me. Though the road ahead would be long and uncertain, I knew that we would face it together, bound by love and resilience.

...

As I sat amidst the chaos, my heart heavy with worry and fear, I found myself turning to the only source of solace I had left - prayer. With tears streaming down my face, I bowed my head and clasped my hands together, pleading with all my might for God to intervene and save my parents.

"Please, God," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. "Save them. I can't bear the thought of losing them. They're everything to me."

Each word was a fervent plea, a desperate cry from the depths of my soul. I prayed for strength, for healing, for a miracle to pull my family back from the brink of devastation.

In that moment of vulnerability, I poured out my heart to the heavens, clinging to faith as my last bastion of hope. Though the outcome remained uncertain, I found solace in the belief that even in the darkest of times, God's grace could shine through, illuminating the path ahead with the promise of redemption and renewal.

And so, with each whispered prayer, I entrusted my fears and hopes to a higher power, trusting that somehow, someway, my parents would find their way back to me, their love a beacon of light guiding us through the storm.

As the doctor exited the ICU, hope and fear battled within me, each moment stretching out in agonizing uncertainty. His presence brought a glimmer of hope, but I dared not hope too much until I heard his assessment.

"Are they alright?" I asked, my voice trembling with anticipation.

The doctor's expression was grave as he met my gaze. "I can't say for certain at this moment," he replied, his words like a knife through my heart. "Their injuries are severe, and it's difficult to predict their outcome."

My heart sank at his words, the weight of his prognosis heavy upon my shoulders. The thought of losing my parents was unbearable, yet I knew I had to steel myself for whatever news awaited me.

"They want to talk to you," the doctor continued, his voice gentle but firm. "It's important that you prepare yourself for what they have to say."

Nodding numbly, I followed the doctor into the ICU, my footsteps heavy with dread.

With each passing moment, the knot in my stomach tightened, my mind racing with a million possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.

But as I stood by their bedside, holding their hands tightly in mine, I knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, drawing strength from the love that bound us as a family.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I listened to my father's words, each syllable heavy with a weight I could scarcely bear. "Krish my son ,I'm sorry, son," he whispered, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't stay with you any longer."

The world seemed to blur around me as his words sank in, a crushing sense of loss enveloping my very being. "Please, Father, don't go," I pleaded, my voice choked with emotion. "I need you. We need you."

But before he could say more, before he could offer any reassurance or comfort, his heartbeat faltered, then stopped altogether. A gut-wrenching sob escaped my lips as I watched helplessly, my heart breaking with each passing moment.

In that moment of unbearable grief, I made a silent vow to honor my father's memory, to carry on his legacy with the same determination and resilience that had defined his life. "I promise, Father," I whispered through my tears. "I'll do my best. I'll take care of Mother. I won't let you down."

With a heavy heart, I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, a final farewell to the man who had been my rock, my mentor, my everything. And as I stood by his bedside, surrounded by the echo of his fading presence, I knew that though he may be gone, his love would live on in me, a guiding light in the darkness.

My gaze shifted from my father's still form to my mother, who lay unconscious beside him. A wave of anguish washed over me as I reached out to gently brush a lock of hair from her forehead.

"Mother," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please, wake up. We need you. I need you."

But there was no response, only the steady beep of the heart monitor serving as a cruel reminder of the fragility of life. Panic threatened to consume me as I struggled to hold back the tide of despair threatening to overwhelm me.

With trembling hands, I grasped her cold, limp hand, clinging to the slender thread of hope that she would awaken, that she would be spared from the same fate that had befallen my father. "Please, Mother," I pleaded, my voice cracking with emotion. "Don't leave me alone. Not like this."

But as the moments stretched into eternity, it became increasingly clear that my pleas were falling on deaf ears. With a heavy heart, I pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, silently vowing to remain by her side no matter what the future held.

And as I sat vigil by her bedside, my heart heavy with grief and uncertainty, I clung to the hope that somehow, someway, she would find her way back to me, her presence a beacon of light in the darkness.

...

As I stepped out of the ICU, the hushed tones of the hospital corridor gave way to the blaring of a television set nearby. My ears perked up as I strained to make out the words of the news report.

The television screen flickered to life, the image of a news reporter filling the screen. "Breaking news," the reporter began, her voice grave and urgent. "A gas pipeline was blasted, but many people are speculating that this was not an accident."My heart skipped a beat at the mention of the explosion, the memories of the chaos and devastation still fresh in my mind. But as the reporter continued, my blood ran cold."Many sources are suggesting that this may have been the work of unknown forces," the reporter continued, her words sending a chill down my spine. "Others are pointing fingers at a political party, suggesting that this may have been a deliberate act to further their own agenda."The implications of such a possibility were staggering, the thought that innocent lives could have been caught in the crossfire of someone else's greed or ambition filled me with a sense of righteous indignation.As the reporter's voice faded into the background, my mind raced with questions and anger. How could anyone be capable of such callousness, of putting innocent lives at risk for their own selfish motives?

But amidst the chaos of conflicting theories and speculation, one thing remained clear - the need for answers, for accountability, for justice.

Regardless of who was ultimately responsible for the explosion, those who had lost their lives or been injured deserved nothing less than the truth.With a heavy heart, I resolved to do whatever it took to uncover the truth, to ensure that those responsible were held accountable for their actions.

...,....

As the days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, the weight of uncertainty and despair settled over me like a heavy blanket. My mother remained in a coma, her condition unchanged despite the passage of time. The doctors spoke in hushed tones, their words a constant reminder of the fragility of life.

Meanwhile, the investigation into the explosion that had torn my family apart seemed to have stalled. The police assured us that they were doing everything in their power to uncover the truth, but the lack of progress only added to the sense of frustration and helplessness that hung in the air.

And then, as if by some cruel twist of fate, the news related to the accident seemed to disappear from the airwaves. The once-constant coverage of the explosion and its aftermath was replaced by silence, leaving me feeling adrift in a sea of unanswered questions.

The thought that someone, somewhere, had the power to silence the truth filled me with a sense of righteous anger. How could they be allowed to get away with it, to deny justice to those who had lost their lives or been injured in the explosion?

But amidst the chaos and despair, one thing remained clear to me - the need for answers, for accountability, for justice. And though the road ahead would be long and fraught with uncertainty, I vowed to do whatever it took to uncover the truth, to ensure that those responsible were held accountable for their actions.

I visited the police station :For more information regarding the incident, the police officer informed me that the case had been closed due to a lack of complaints. I insisted that they register my complaint, and after doing so, I left for the hospital.

As I walked away from the police station, the sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the city.

The streets were bustling with people heading home from work, and the sound of car horns and chatter filled the air.

I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in my stomach since the police officer had closed the case.

I was lost in thought when suddenly, a black sedan screeched to a halt in front of me.

The car's tinted windows prevented me from seeing who was inside, but before I could react, the doors swung open, and several men in dark clothing emerged.

They grabbed me roughly, and I struggled to break free, but they were too strong.

As they dragged me towards the car, I caught a glimpse of their faces, but they were masked, making it impossible to identify them.

I tried to scream for help, but my voice was drowned out by the noise of the city. I fought against my captors, but they were relentless.

As they shoved me into the backseat of the car, I caught a glimpse of the driver.

He was wearing a black suit and sunglasses, and his expression was cold and calculating.

As the car sped away, I felt a sense of dread wash over me. I had no idea where they were taking me or what they planned to do. All I knew was that I was in grave danger, and I had to find a way to escape.

I struggled against my captors, but they were too strong.

One of them injected something into my arm, and within seconds, my vision started to blur. I tried to fight off the effects of the drug, but it was no use. As I slipped into unconsciousness.

:*;;";£(£(£(£;£;(£9#92+£;£;*(

I awoke in a dimly lit room, my head pounding and my limbs heavy.

I tried to sit up, but my hands were bound behind my back, and my ankles were tied together.

Panic surged through me as I realized I was a prisoner, but I forced myself to stay calm.

The room was small and bare, with concrete walls and a single window high above. The only light came from a flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the floor.

I strained my ears, but all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing.I struggled against my restraints, but they held fast.

I had no idea how long I had been unconscious or where I was. All I knew was that I had to find a way to escape before my captors returned.

l searched the room for anything that could help me, but there was nothing. No tools, no weapons, nothing but the cold, hard floor beneath me. I cursed myself for not paying more attention to my surroundings when I had the chance.I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I had to stay focused, to think clearly.

There had to be a way out of this, a way to escape and find help.As I lay there, trying to come up with a plan, I heard footsteps approaching. My heart leapt into my throat as the door swung open, and a figure stepped into the room.

He was dressed in a dark suit, with a fedora pulled low over his eyes. Behind him, four more men followed, all dressed in similar attire.

The man in the suit stepped forward, his eyes fixed on me. "So, you're the one who signed the complaint," he said, his voice cold and menacing.

"You've caused us a lot of trouble, you know."I stared at him, my mind racing.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He smiled, a cruel twist of his lips. "You can say that I'm one of the people behind that explosion," he said. "Now you know me."

The man's voice was cold and menacing as he spoke, "Since you tried to harm us, you will pay the price, and the price is your life." With a swift motion, he brought a gun to my head, the cold metal pressing against my temple.

A sudden, sharp sound pierced the air, a loud "bang!" that echoed through the room.

A body lay sprawled on the ground, motionless, as the echo of the gunshot faded away.

.... Aftersome time

The body on the ground began to twitch, its limbs jerking unnaturally as if pulled by invisible strings. A dark aura seemed to emanate from it, filling the room with an oppressive energy.

The people in the room gasped in horror and disbelief as the body on the ground began to move. Some stumbled backward, their eyes wide with fear, while others froze in shock, unable to comprehend what they were witnessing. The air seemed to thicken with tension as the dark aura grew stronger, suffusing the room with an ominous presence.

To be continued...

....

....