“But Please help me. Where would I go?? Please Help Me”
“You can go to hell, for all I care.”
I remember, our last conversation, went something...exactly like this.
You were crying, begging me for help but I didn’t. In fact, I asked you to go to hell.
And now that when you are gone, I can’t stop but think why.
Why did all this happen? We were best friends forever, remember?
Growing up together, playing in those by-lanes of our society, enjoying every moment of our blessed childhood, when did we form this special bond? I fail to recall.
We went to same school, scored almost equal marks, cracked the same exam for our dream college and entered our dream world together.
And then, something happened, she happened.
She came like a new wave of fun in our already fun-filled lives, giving us one more ways to look at things, providing us the weekend getaways, making her way into hearts, both yours and mine.
I started to fall in love with her and I thought you would get a hint of that but you didn’t. I even started to wait for you to tease me by her name but you didn’t. And by the time I realized why, you both were busy making your own little world, dreaming of your future together, and jokingly saying that I would be the Godparent to your children.
Do you have a slightest of hint how much that pinched my already broken heart?
We were always equal, weren’t we?
Same social status, same academic performances, same zest, and same attitude.
Why did she choose you then?
Why not me?
I too deserved her if you did.
But stupid cupid struck the wrong arrow in her blind heart.
I broke off all ties with you two the day you proposed her on the last day of college, although I did cover it up with my “I am going to miss you when I move to the city for job” excuse.
And you bought it? Such a fool you were.
Once out of your love-struck environment, I did find a job and gave it all that I had.
What else did I have to do?
My love was now known to the world as your wife, and there was no question of marrying someone else.
I became what I am today, super rich, super successful and super single.
You came to my home that dark night, crying, bleeding, limping, bleeding, begging, bleeding.
You had an accident just outside my bungalow and needed help.
I of course didn’t let you know that it was me, and saw you leaving while I stood in dark in the balcony.
I called the police and informed them.
They must have reached your car, and that is how they called me back to say that you were gone.
And her too.
Dead, both of you.
And here I am today, arranging the funerals, hugging your relatives, looking over the food arrangements, holding in one hand your will and in the other, your son.