The television shutting down rather than the rolling thunder woke up Tamanna. She had been dozing off waiting for Abhas, her husband. Freelance writers don't have stipulated timings as civil engineers do, but today he was late than usual.
She sat trying to readjust her eyes to the darkness. She would have kept candles handy were it not for her nyctophillia but tonight had an ominous feel to it.
The day didn't have a good start either. Frictions of married life led to frequent fights. This was one of those days, preceded by weeks of similar days.He was gone, even before she was awake. Tamanna didn't like it. They were childhood sweethearts, their story made most people go "Aww..". How they started as playmates when toddlers, became friends, got separated due to transfers, met & went their own way again, crossed paths and somehow realized that their paths and destinies are intertwined.
The doorbell ringing brought Tamanna to the immediacy. She hurt her foot while crossing the living room, she made a mental note to keep candles and matchsticks in every room at convenient places.
Putting the cheer in her voice and smile she opened the door, " Good to see you. I was so worried... this thunderstorm, I thought you would be stuck up at the site. Get in quickly before you get more sick. You don't take care of your health at all. Why do you have to stand in the rain and work. Now suffer from a sore throat . Come in. Ohh... sorry. I was blocking your way." She moved out of the way. " Close the door after you."
"Why don't you say something ? Are you still angry ? I'm sorry. Even though I think it wasn't completely my fault. It would help if you're a little bit more communicative. For the past few months we haven't spent time together at all. I miss us. I know we are past those chocolates and flowers phase but you know... it would help if we both put in an effort... to be those persons we fell in love with..."
Tamanna's speech was interrupted by Abhas' wheezy coughing.
"Your throat is getting worse. Let me make some chicken soup for you. I think it would help... Wait... Is it because of your throat that you're quiet... Huh... Most probably... Let me quickly make the soup... but still need to be more communicative... Phones are working in this storm... Would you answer the phone... Abhas I said, would you please pick up the phone."
Tamanna's disembodied voice from the voice mail spoke * Leave your message, Abhas and I are unable to answer you. We will get back to you ASAP.*
Abhas static voice came from the other end "Hey Tamanna,. Sorry I got stuck on the site due to this rain. Don't wait up for me. I will come home as soon as the rain slows down. Lock the doors and windows. A convicted killer is on the loose in the city. I feel really worried. I wish i could be there. Just make sure you lock yourself up in the house. I'll call when I get home or knock five times. Don't open up for anyone else without verifying... See you later."
Tamanna froze with fright... the lit candle in her hand cast a light upon the person sitting on the sofa.
She now remembered the news broadcast, that she hadn't paid much attention to... "Killer on the run..." She had expected the killer to be a person with a scarred face, wearing a trench coat but the person in front of her looked like a perfect gentleman, he could have easily passed off as a student fresh out of college, had it not been for the maniacal smile he gave as he advanced towards her.
The next day news headlines flashed, "Killer killed" alongside a pixelated image of a slashed body. There sat in the corner a shivering Tamanna, with Abhas comforting her. Police reports say that it was an act of self defense. a kitchen knife was used. There are clear signs of struggle by the survivor and evidences indicate attempted sexual assault. The survivor says she was in the kitchen about to cut chicken, when she was attacked, in the tussle to protect herself she had to use the knife, she didn't mean to kill but wound so she could buy herself some time, get out of the house and alert the neighbors. She meant to disable him temporarily, so she went for the face. With the inflicted wounds the face is beyond recognition, but the clothing suggests it is the escaped convict.
He turned away from the tea shop, from the people watching the news. Last night was fun. He had just meant to shake the police off his trail. He went into the house, looking for a place to hide. If he was caught by the owners, he would simply knock them out. He was past those trigger happy days. He wanted a fresh start. He would do everything to keep himself out of jail. But the lady of the house had put up a fight, and the noise brought a passerby. In the struggle to overpower him, the stranger was killed. Who is to say who killed the innocent. It was easy to convince it was the lady of the house who killed. It was quite a confused tussle. Not wanting to be embroiled in a criminal case, he gave her an escape route. Let this incident be staged to look like his death. He gets to live his life, she gets to live hers. A settlement was reached. Even if it is later discovered it isn't him, the lady would still not be charged. After all, it was truly an act of self defense with a wrongful casualty.
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