??????? 49

                                        

                                              
⚠️ Trigger Warning:
The later part of the chapter contains intense depictions of voilence, drugging, and attempted sexual violence. 
Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you are sensitive to such content or it may be harmful to your mental well-being, please proceed with caution or consider skipping this part.

                                

                                    
                                
                                  
                                      
                                  
                                  
                                    
                                      
                                      
                                    
                                  
                                 
                                
                                
                              
                              
Tap. Tap. Tap.
BANG.
That, ladies and gentlemen, was the sound of my fist meeting the desk. If this desk had feelings, it would've filed a harassment complaint against me by now.
"UGGGHHHHH," I groaned loudly, dragging my palms down my face.
Honestly, at this point, banging my head against the wall seemed like a decent option—no, wait, better to strangle myself. 
Or maybe just shoot the bloody headache that had been camping in my skull for ages like a damn truck had rolled right through it.
I let out a dramatic sigh, glaring at the screen of my laptop as if it had personally offended me. Code blurred in and out of focus. "Stupid lines," I muttered before shoving my chair back.
With all the grace of a potato sack, I threw myself onto the bed like a ragdoll. The mattress embraced me with silence, the only thing that hadn't judged me in weeks.
Stress. That's what I've been diagnosed with these days. 
Stress with a capital S and maybe ten exclamation marks after it. 
Not that I went to a doctor or anything, but Google confirmed it—so it's basically official. Symptoms include: dramatic sighs, irrational outbursts, and spontaneous thoughts of running away to the Himalayas and becoming a goat.
I've been trying to finish this new program, I'm building for the company. 
Half of it is done. 
The other half? Well, my brain clocked out and decided to vacation in another universe. It's probably sipping mojitos on a beach somewhere while I'm over here crying into my hoodie.
And then there's the search. The one I started weeks ago, desperate to find something, anything from my past that could connect the dots I'm fumbling with.
Can I do it?
Absolutely.
Am I doing it?
Nope, because stress is tying my hands and blindfolding my eyes.
I exhaled so loudly I probably summoned a ghost, flipping to my side, closing my eyes. It's been days—no, weeks—since that night. The night I ended a monster, the night I get Kashish, the night I did all shit things. 
Since then? Nada. No peace. No silence. No tiny voice in my head saying, "You're doing okay, babes."
Well. Except when I'm with them.
My brothers.
My Dad.
And My Aan—bless his handsome soul.
Only around them does my brain calm down and pretend to function. For a few glorious moments, I almost feel like a normal.
But the moment I'm alone? Boom.
It's like my trauma goes, "Oh! She's free? Showtime, baby!"
And here I am. Again. Lying on my bed like a flatbread, waiting for the motivation fairy to show up and slap me into productivity.