The Little Red Book - VI

First Part: The Little Red Book - I
Continued from: The Little Red Book - V


Present Day

It was Sam’s birthday. A painful day to say the least but it was also the day they had planned to get married on, a year back. But before they could walk down the aisle, destiny had stolen Sam from Cynthia. She spent the entire day brooding over what could have been. There was pain in her eyes, so deep that even the oceans seemed fathomable. Her life was turned upside down and there wasn't a moment that she didn't regret her decision to keep digging on the matter.

She sat on the porch of her bungalow looking at the green mesmerizing sight in front but her thoughts were somewhere else.

I miss you so much Sam. We couldn't even say goodbye. I killed you. It was my fault. I was the one who landed you in this and now look what I have done. You are gone and I haven’t done anything about it. Sometimes I feel I can never love you as much as you loved me. What do I do?

She felt guilt ridden for she lived on and Sam died for a cause that she didn't have the courage to drive to conclusion. She touched her engagement ring with her thumb. There was a lump in her throat and she yearned for one last touch, one last moment with Sam. Was his death in vain? Would she spend her whole life hiding behind an alias while Sam’s sacrifice is forgotten?

Oh Sam. I have been a coward this past year. Banerjee Uncle is right it is this Red Book that will avenge your death. No more, I can’t stay here anymore. Life or death, I’ll do it now!

She called one of the numbers that her Uncle had left with her. The phone rang on the other side and Banerjee Uncle picked up “Uncle…It is me… I think it is time. I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

There was momentary silence at the other end and then “About time my dear. See you soon.”

She hung up and stood up, still holding the red book in her hand.

Happy Birthday Sam. I’ll unseal this book and that will seal the fates of those that killed you. Happy Birthday Sam.

***        ***

“Why don’t you go and meet her?” the therapist asked seated in her couch with a pen and writing pad in her hand.

“Un huh…I can’t…” he said crouched on the red sofa placed just in front of the therapist’s couch.

“But it’s clear that a lot of your recovery depends on her.” She said looking at his hunched back. His face still had the scars from some sort of burn injuries. He kept looking down as if searching for something or someone.

“If I go they’ll know. That’s why they pulled me out at the last moment. That’s why they saved me and let me go. Isn't it obvious? Their boss wants me alive.” He said looking up just momentarily.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Claustrophobic.. I can’t sleep. They are still looking for her I know. They won’t stop.”

“Sam it’s time you take help, call the police, tell them everything. Not all are bad.”

“After this” he said showing his injuries “I don’t know if I can trust anyone in authority. You know yourself how long it for me to open up to you.”

“Maybe someday you will.”

“I don’t know” he said and again went back to looking at the floor.

“Do you want me to get in touch with her? Just tell her..” she said walking towards him and sitting next to him on the red couch.

He looked up and she saw for the first time in months the desperation in his eyes.


Continued here