Rimu sat alone in that dark room. Around her were the haunting shadows of old walls and a faint smell— the smell of blood. She kept turning the brush in her hand, as if it were her most trusted friend.
From far away came the howling of a stray dog. In one corner of the room, a small candle burned, its soft glow dancing across Rimu’s face. Her eyes were filled with deep sorrow, drowned in darkness.
From her hand, the red paint—like blood—dripped slowly onto the canvas, gradually taking shape into a picture. The picture radiated a strange, sinister feeling— a kind of bitterness that seemed to want to escape from her heart.
“This blood,” she whispered, “is my emotion, my pain, my scream. No one will understand. No one ever will.”
Rimu’s smile was strange— as if she were tricking herself, or perhaps wearing a disguise of madness.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Tanvir entered the room. He looked calm, but in his eyes burned an odd fire.
“How long will you keep drowning in yourself like this?” Tanvir asked, his voice cold as ice.
Rimu turned and said, “Do you understand? Without this darkness, I am nothing.”
“Then I will still try to save you,” Tanvir’s voice carried a strange softness, though fear was hidden in his eyes.
Rimu widened her eyes at him. “Try to save me? You don’t know how much I love my sorrow and my darkness. I’m telling you, Tanvir—this is my game of madness.”
Tanvir stepped slowly deeper into the room. “Then am I the one who will win this game?”
Rimu smiled, but her smile was terrifying—half madness, half pain.
“In a game where no one wins,” she said, “we all get lost.”
In their gaze, an unusual war shimmered— between love, madness, and death.
Outside, the night poured down rain, while inside Rimu’s heart raged a storm.
She knew, by the end of this night, nothing would ever be the same. Because she was a puppet of hatred, and Tanvir was the master pulling its strings.
Rimu closed her eyes for a moment, and her mind slipped back to that dark past— a past filled with breaths of blood and terrifying silence.
She only wanted to know one question— who were truly mad? And who, in the disguise of love, was crafting a dreadful tale?
2nd part is coming soon..………..