My teens on the edge

I think I might be in love. Maybe. Maybe not but nevertheless, I’m outrageously attracted and infatuated for now. Maybe it has something to do with his huge doe shaped hazel eyes which twinkle with delight at the very sight of me or his little nose. And how can I forget his long body, which reminds me of those sumptuous hot dogs which mum used to make when I was little, his voice, ah!  His purring, is anything but cute and that forever wagging tail of his is one thing that can always make me smile. ALWAYS! Have you ever heard of inner happiness, contentment, joy? Well those things are what I feel while sitting next to him and patting him on his soft brown coat. This is where I always want to be, right next to him, stroking him and hugging him close to myself so that he doesn’t feel cold in this frigid climate. I’m sure this is love, that true eternal love which Shakespeare and Blake talk about.  
I’m ashamed at myself, at my behaviour or more specifically misbehaviour. How could I have even thought of doing something so bad  to Frank.
It all began 2 months back on my then-bff Ziya’s birthday. It was the 23rd of August and the memory is still fresh in my head. Well why won’t it be, that day changed me or should I say brought me back to my senses after a very long period of being recklessness.
Both of us along with 5 more friends of ours had gone to a disco. I know that’s not a big thing but maybe if you knew that we were in class 10th you’d feel a bit shocked and if I told you about our fake id’s you’d have your mouths hanging open a little larger. All this was normal for us, this was the way we lived our life- young,wild and free. Like all parties Ziya was as ever the crazy hot girl dancing in a carefree manner in the middle of the dance floor. Not that all of us weren’t having fun but well for Z, it was always melodramatic-extreme-insane enjoyment. That day things went beyond every body’s control. All of us got drunk. No, drunk is an understatement- we were HIGH. Intoxicated way beyond the usual. The last thing I remember was slapping anybody and everybody like a lunatic. After that my memory is pretty blurred. The next thing that I actually do remember is standing outside my house’s gate staring hard at the 4 doors instead of 1 in front of me, trying to figure out which one to choose. That moment was worse than what happened with Alice when she was all alone trying to find her way in wonderland. I felt like pulling at my hair and puke my guts out. I turned around to see a car speeding away at practically 180km per hour. It wasn’t just another car, it was Ziya’s Merc, that black car with the 1211 plate was something that I could recognise even in my dreams. 
I turned around to see that the door was open now, on walking inside I came face to face with my mother who on looking at my drunken state slapped me hard, not once, not twice but around 10 times, I lost count after that. She walked back into the house locking the door after her, leaving me standing in the middle of the garden silently crying with a face smudged with kohl because of the continuous waterfall of tears.
Then I did something that I regret from that day and will regret up till I die, I searched through my cross body bag and found my blackberry and called up my mother, she picked up on the second ring and said nothing, I could hear her sniffing, probably holding back tears but all this was trivial to me, in a single breath I blurted out all of the abuses I know and instead of scolding me,threatening me,asking me to leave the house or coming outside and thrashing me for my ill-manners, she very calmly said “You are the worst daughter anybody could ever have,you have no respect for your parents and never listen to what they tell you to do, that little pup in the kennel is more responsive and loyal than you”.
 Hearing this, I cut the phone and ran towards frank, that little nonsensical brat that my parents loved more than me. I slapped him, beat him with a stick, threw whatever I could find from flower pots to the small showpieces. I hated him because my my mother preferred him to me, she thought he was more obedient, more responsive, more loyal. How could she have possibly compared me to a stupid animal that could not even speak.  He had started crying and purring in pain by then. He was hurt, and I couldn’t be more glad. Mum came outside on hearing his whimpering and came face to face with me, I ended up puking on her feet. She took him into her arms, and quickly drove away,  not even saying a single word to me, so I ran inside and up the stairs to my room, shut the door and wept like a maniac into my pillow, my only companion. I didn’t even know when I fell asleep, I awoke the next morning, it was almost noon and my parents were sitting on my bedside, whispering.
 On seeing me awake, my father said ” I don’t have much to say to you, so don’t think I’ve come to give you a lecture. If you’re old enough to booze, I think you’re old enough to chose between right and wrong. Your mother and I have decided that we won’t say a word to you. You’re big enough to make your own decisions”. Saying this he walked away, leaving behind a credit card with my name on it. Unlike normal people, his words didn’t inspire me but in actual they hurt me like a thousand thorns, slowly but painfully. I decided that it was time to retaliate and retaliate is what I did. I bathed,dressed up and went out to have a few glasses of beer. I called up Ziya and asked her to come as well, while sitting there and sipping beer I told her about everything and she sympathised  with me, she then called up one of her drug dealers and told him we needed a bit of stash. He told her that he would be there in a jiffy, and she gave him our location. This was new to me, Z told me to chill and enjoy the comforts and luxuries of life with my newly acquired credit card or in her words, the best lifeline ever. That day was wonderful and so were the 2 weeks that followed, filled with enjoyment,getting drunk,smoking pot and dancing till our feet hurt. I’d started ordering a lot of drugs, and hiding the packets at home or in other words I was addicted. 

But after a week of getting stash home, I realised that my packets were going missing. I was scared that my parents had found them and feeling helpless, I started searching for them. It was after two days that I saw that frank was burying something in the ground which looked a lot like my packets. On closer observation, I discovered that my doubt was true and it was my packet. I was angry, outrageously enraged in fact. But then my mind went into flashback, I remembered the times I used to eat excessive amount of chillies and how frank, then a little pup used to hide them. He was one whom I could count on when I dad used to scold me or when mum was upset with my marks. He used to greet me with a wagging tail every time I came home after an exasperating and exhausting day in school. He was the anchor that used to stop my ship like life from sinking in the middle of the chaotic ocean like life. And that was the day that I chose between the glamorous life and frank. And I bet you must have guessed my choice.

 

I wrote this short story a few months ago for a competition and am still awaiting eagerly awating for the  result.It’s purely fictitious. 🙂Image

 
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