The monster behind the mask

4 years ago

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I watched from under the table.

The sound, the smell, the stickiness. It won't just go away.

The blood on my hands. There's this one shadow seated on their knees, pleading, begging for the killer to leave them alone. But he won't, he can't.

He's not the villain. He never was.

Crimson Phantom, that's what they called him. But for me, he was my saviour. He saved me from myself, he saved me from going insane, asking, looking, begging for justice.

This is where his story began, or ended. It was supposed to end today, but there's this small piece left to find. A piece that made the puzzle, a mystery unsolved. Traces left, of unfulfilled desires and revenge.

He's searching for his last victims, and that piece was his ultimate victim.

I breathed a little harder, focusing on keeping my breaths even. Not a sound left my mouth. Not that there was anyone to hear anything. It was silent except for the sound of the Crimson Phantom's cold blade scratching across the metal table.

The men's cold death, their bodies on the ground still, knees bent, like they were begging for mercy.

I smiled. My lips pulling on their own.

And then I stopped.

Wrong, Ruhi.

One shouldn't smile when there are dead bodies on the ground.

But it felt so just, so right!

And then the silence followed. He's still here somewhere, in the room. The Crimson Phantom. I should thank him. He saved me, unknowingly. His shadow is still lurking. I just know it. I feel it.

Crimson Phantom, a man on a streak for revenge, at least that's what they said. The police, the media, the crime investigators.

So that's the picture the canvas displayed: a man painted in red and cold sharp metal. Beauty in crimson, they called it. Justice carved on whites. The Punisher. The Redeemer. Their Avenger.

I heard the sound of footsteps behind the door as I turned my head slowly. The shadow disappeared as soon as the outside world interfered. I peeked behind my fingers, four. Four bodyguards dressed in black.

And they stood stunned at the scene as soon as they saw it.

One was swearing non-stop about how they were late and what a mess it was. The other almost vomited his stomach empty looking at the scene in the room. The other two immediately recovered from the shock. The one swearing called someone immediately.

Who were these? Crime investigators? They looked like those bodyguards that protect someone big in the movies.

"Sir, the room, the scene, it's... it's blood everywhere," the man tried to form a sentence, clearly moved by the scene.

C'mon.

"Man, holy shit, look here!" another voice came in, but this time from near me. The other guard was crouching down, staring at me like he just discovered someone or something that shouldn't be here.

He wasn't wrong.

I really shouldn't be here.

All four of them looked at me in shock.

"Shi- Is she okay?" The man on the phone immediately came to look at me.

I peeked from behind my fingers again. They all were staring at me like they were seeing a ghost.

"She looks scared."

"How did she even end up here?"

"The fuck I know. Help her get out from under that heinous table first."

"What's going on?" The voice from the other side of the phone pierced sharp, making all the men alert. He must be their boss. Who, I wonder?

"Sir, there's an innocent girl we found at the crime scene. She looks scared and scarred."

"Help her then. She might be one of the important clues in solving this Crimson Phantom mystery. We need to find him before the government does. We need him, Daksh."

"Yes, boss. We'll rescue her safe and sound," the man, Daksh, was it? said as the call ended from the other end.

The room collectively breathed, a calm, unrushed breath.

"Hey," the man crouched down, his eyes genuine, calm, honest.

"Hey, don't be scared. We are here to help you."

Help, huh.

"Trust us, c'mon," he extended his hand, "let's get out of this room first."

Trust, huh.

I didn't move a muscle.

"Man, she's shivering. I hate this world for doing this to innocent people."

Shivering, huh.

"Hey, sweetie, we mean no harm," he said, gesturing the words with his hands so that I better understand him. Like I was in some trauma-induced state and didn't have the mental capacity to understand words.

Harm, huh.

"More innocent lives just keep getting dragged into this. I hate this world."

"Shut up, Harsh. You are not helping any," the man with the extended hand said. His name, his boss just said it, I forgot his name. But he looks kind.

"Here," he said as he took out his coat, covering my shivering body and helping me get out from under the table.

"We'll take you somewhere safe," they said. I didn't believe it a bit. There's no safe place. I don't believe in safe.

"The boss said to bring her. She's a vital clue. Get the car ready, Harsh. You two, investigate the room. Find every single clue, anything tiny,bit shouldn't miss our eyes." He told the other two, who nodded and immediately started the search carefully.

"C'mon." He walked me out of the room. I was feeling dizzy, tired, yet I took one last look at the room.

The table.

That knife covered in crimson. I smiled, but immediately covered it up.

Bad Ruhi.

Very bad.

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That night was the first time I met Yajman Singh Rathore.

An old man in his sixties, he can be kind and ruthless at the same time. He was very kind to me when we first met, almost like a grandfather figure. At that time, four years ago, I never trusted anyone, not a single soul.

But him, I did.

He told me one truth.

I told him one truth.

And since then, we both were guarding each other's truth.

Since four years ago, I haven't met him, nor have I crossed his path.

Until now.

"Sir is waiting for you. This way," the valet said, guiding me and Yuvaan as we entered the mansion.

Situated in the mountains, the mansion was exactly what one would expect from the retired politician and businessman. Luxurious, rich in style, and beautiful. Above all, it was peaceful.

Yuvaan briefed me about Yajman Singh Rathore, most of which I already knew.

We entered the room to find the old man waiting for us. Yuvaan was the first to greet him, hugged him?

Well, that's shocking.

"It's been a while, Reh-" the old man said, almost lovingly, but he stopped mid-sentence, looking at me. He froze.

Lovingly? From what I remember, the old man was anything but loving-

Wait a minute.

Reh?

REH?!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY REH-?

"Who, who is this young lady?" the old man asked, his eyes finally settling on mine.

It has to be a mistake.

Slip of tongue.

"This is my wife, Ruhi Yuvaan Agnihotri," he pressed his name while introducing me.

"Ahhh," the old man said. "I see," he finished as he scrutinized me. There's no way he hadn't recognized me. I can see it in his eyes, he has.

The way they have hardened a little at the corners.

"Come, let's have lunch."

We followed. Yuvaan looked at Yajman Singh Rathore, he was searching for something in his expression.

And I looked at Yuvaan, searching for something in his expression.

I have a bad, bad feeling about everything.

___________________________

"How's your brother, Yuvaan?" Yajman Singh Rathore asked as we sat across the dining table. It was extravagant and rich. All kinds of dishes were served to us.

"Rehaan is busy," Yuvaan answered, short, clipped.

"The election rally will start soon. Are you sure the eldest son of Agnihotri won't stand in this election either?" Yajman Singh Rathore asked, but I was equally intrigued by the line of questioning.

We hardly ever talked about politics.

"Neither this nor any," Yuvaan answered, short and clipped.

"When did you marry Ruhi?" the old man asked, making me alert. My only response was awareness, nothing suspicious.

"Recently, we got married a few days ago," Yuvaan answered, with a tone of excitement.

It was for show. I could see through it.

"And how did you meet?" the old man asked. Now Yuvaan looked between us suspiciously.

"Family friends, why?" Yuvaan asked.

"Nothing, it's quite unbelievable, that you'll get married."

But I felt like that statement was delivered toward me.

Yuvaan's phone rang, and he excused himself from the conversation, attending the call outside.

And now it was just me and the old man.

I dropped the mask.

"Who is he?" I asked. That was my first question.

"An Agnihotri. Which you should stay away from. You should have stayed away from it all, Ruhi. He isn't what he looks. What are you even doing marrying an Agnihotri?"

"I have my reasons. What do you mean, he isn't what he looks?"

But before Yajman Singh Rathore could say anything, Yuvaan entered the room.

"Adhrit is getting married," he said, the statement directed to Yajman Singh Rathore, who looked surprised.

"To whom?"

"Advika Rao- the Chief Minister, Keshav Rao's daughter."

Something passed between both of them as they nodded.

"We'll have to leave now, and so do you. Hope to see you soon, sir," Yuvaan said, bidding him goodbye.

I all but looked at the old man, who looked visibly shaken by the news. He looked at me, understood my goodbye.

But we both knew we'd be meeting soon.

___________________________

Three years ago

"You never told me your name," I whispered, voice breathless as his lips skimmed across the sensitive spot just beneath my ear. His hand was already on my thigh, slow and commanding, like he had all the time in the world to ruin me.

He didn't answer right away, his palm slid around my waist, warm and firm, pulling me impossibly closer.

I saw a snake tattoo, coiled along the back of his hand, the head inked along the curve of his thumb. The way it flexed when he gripped me tighter sent a rush through my chest. Dangerous. Hypnotic.

"For the night," he finally rasped against my throat, "call me your worst nightmare."

I let out a shaky breath, my hands moving on instinct, one curling around the back of his neck, the other threading into his thick, slightly tousled hair. I held him there, anchoring myself to something I didn't understand but couldn't let go of either.

"You?" he asked, lifting his head. His dark brown eyes flicked up to meet mine, sharp, smouldering, like he could see straight into me.

"Your wildest dream," I murmured back.

His hands roamed, reverent and unhurried, over my thigh, around my waist, up my spine, and everywhere he touched, more my core tightened.

He leaned in again, lips hovering just over mine, not quite kissing me. Teasing.

And I didn't pull away. I gripped his hair tighter.

I knew exactly who I was losing my virginity to, another monster with a snake tattoo

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