HIMANI'S POV
As I blinked my heavy, half-dizzy eyes open, a wave of dizziness swept over me. Blurred visions danced before me, revealing a veiny hand carefully bandaging my wounded, bleeding feet.
I felt numb and detached, my mind struggling to grasp anything beyond the moment.
I lay there in a daze, surrendering once more to the darkness as I closed my eyes shut again.
Once again, darkness enveloped everything around me when a hand suddenly grabbed my neck.
It was a gruesome sight—blood dripped from the hand, as if it had just dipped it in a bowl of crimson liquid. The horror was overwhelming.
Those eerie fingers inched closer to my lips, smearing that blood across them. I was paralysed with fear, wanting to scream but unable to make even a whimper.
Then, silence fell, only to be shattered when that hand gripped my entire face. A deep, haunting voice pierced through the stillness:
"TASTE YOUR OWN BLOOD, UNTIL YOU UNDERSTAND THE ESCATESY I FEEL." It sent shivers down my spine, and I finally let out a scream, waking up abruptly in the real world.
This nightmare had happened to me before—every night, without fail, leaving me questioning my very existence. I often found myself lying in the snow-covered backyard of this house, unsure of the reason behind these terrifying episodes.
Those hands, those voices—they haunted me, each night bringing a new fear.
I didn't know if it was real or if I was suffering from some undiagnosed affliction.
How did I always end up in the backyard, lying in the snow? How did my feet get hurt? I had no idea.
I came to this house thanks to Mrs. Agnihotri's kindness. She found me in the hospital, humming a tune in the garden where I had been admitted for a month.
The doctors said they discovered me lying in the hills, and when I woke up, I couldn't remember anything—my family, my past—everything remained a mystery.
They told me that the man who brought me in said I was an orphan.
As I sat in the hospital garden, trying to piece together what had happened in those days, Mrs. Agnihotri approached me.
"Tumhari aawaz badi pyaari hai beti. Yahan kis wajah se admit ho? Dikhne mein toh thik lagti ho," she said, her voice filled with warmth. ("Your voice is very lovely, dear. Why are you here? You seem fine.")
She had also been admitted due to her own illness.
I smiled and shared my story with her, and her gentle demeanor eased my loneliness.
She offered me a place in her home as a caretaker, and her compassion filled the void I had been feeling.
From that moment on, she held my hand during my darkest days, giving me a renewed purpose to live.
However, ever since I woke up from the coma and lost my memory, I hadn't been able to sleep a single night.
It was as if sleep had abandoned me altogether. I tried pills, but nothing worked.
Ever since I moved into this villa, I've been more confused than ever, waking up each night to find myself unconscious in the snowy backyard, pulled from the depths of a haunting nightmare.
But today was different.
As I opened my heavy eyes, a gasp escaped my lips—it was a sight unlike any I had imagined.
I wasn't lying in the cold snow, paralyzed from the chill; instead, I found myself in a dimly lit room, sprawled on a bed, my hair and clothes drenched from the snow.
As I struggled to sit up and make sense of what was happening, I suddenly realized that both of my hands were tied above my head to the bedpost.
A wave of panic washed over me, and the familiar dread seeped deep into my soul once again.
I was trying to make sense of what was happening, desperately wanting to break free from this grip of tied hands.
"Is that thing real? Did he actually come to take me and subject me to all those dreadful things he showed me every night?
No, no, no... it can't be happening."
Panic surged within me as these thoughts raced through my mind. I struggled fiercely once more to escape the ropes that bound me.
Just then, a sweet, melodious strumming of guitar strings reached my ears.
I glanced to my side, and just a couple of feet away, a large open balcony awaited.
The glass door leading outside was wide open, revealing a dark night sky that looked both wet and clear, with stars twinkling like gems scattered across a dark silk canvas.
There, on a high chair at the balcony, sat REHAAN, the moon shining brightly in the darkness, more luminous than usual.
Its soft glow fell gently across his face, making him appear as though he had stepped into a spotlight.
The moonlight accentuated his features, giving him an otherworldly quality.
Once again, I found myself forgetting to breathe as I took in the sight of him.
The first time I saw him today in the room, singing alongside me, it was as if his voice, his eyes, his very presence captured me entirely.
I couldn't think or even catch my breath, mesmerized by him in that moment. I didn't know what it was about him, but this feeling was something I had never experienced before.
He sat in the soft glow of the moonlight, fingers gently strumming the same guitar he always had, its familiar presence cradled in his hands.
The silvery light poured into the bedroom through the wide-open window, casting delicate shadows across my face and body, enveloping us in a, enchanting atmosphere.
{AUTHORS ADVICE: Please play the song "uska hi banana" in the bg while reading the upcoming lines the "first verse".}
I found myself staring at him intently, unable to blink, as he took a deep breath and began to sing in his rich, resonant voice.
Meri kismat ke har ek panne pe
Mere jeete ji baad marne ke
Mere har ik kal har ik lamhe me
Tu likh de mera usey
His voice was deep and alluring, a stark contrast to the first time I heard it, sending shivers down my spine with every word.
Har kahaani me saare qisson me
Dil ki duniya ke sacche rishton me
Zindagani ke saare hisso mein
Tu likh de mera usey
He picked up his guitar and strummed it more forcefully than before, continuing to sing with even greater passion.
Aye Khuda aye Khuda jab bana uska hi bana
Aye Khuda aye Khuda jab bana uska hi bana
His voice danced through the mountains, reverberating in a way that was simply mesmerizing, and the guitar followed suit.
A thrill ran through my entire body as I watched him sing, completely captivated by the power of his voice.
He paused in his guitar strumming, glancing sideways at me.
His eyes narrowed as he carefully set his guitar aside and slowly descended from the chair, taking deliberate steps toward me.
His gaze mirrored the predatory intensity of a beast approaching its prey, and that's when the true horror began to wash over me.
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