How long does it take for a human to break? How far must circumstances push them to push back? How loud must the voices in head scream until they stab and mutilate it? How deep can anyone climb down the well of dearth for anyone to take notice? Or is it even possible to be seen by those that themselves drag their own horror everyday, out to grocery stores, back home after a day long work and sleep at night knowing next day won't be any different. Then there's that time when past and present blur into one, replicating as future that it no longer has the ability to change. Until the day comes, the day of final fly.

Just when Kiya thought she would never see the morning sun another day, she heard the phone ring. It was too loud for the dead silence she stood surrounded by and if it wasn't for her own self staring back through the bathroom mirror, shallow and shadowed, she'd have ignored it.

"There was nothing that could be done. She was struggling for the past few days, and doctors were already concerned. At least she's at peace now."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I sure of what?"

"Are you sure she is at peace now?" There was a long pause and equalised sigh on the other end of the phone. Kiya waited with a bee-like buzz hounding her brain but didn't let go of neither the phone nor the knife firmly clutched under the water soaked towel in her hand.

"Kiya, I'm here for you. Your sister's death wasn't my fault?"

"Wasn't it though?"

"Kiya, are you okay? You sound rough."

"My sister just died Hareen and now her husband, who didn't check up on her once in the past eight months, is telling me, she is at peace."

"Okay, I'm going totell your parents I tried but you were, just like they said, a stubborn bitch. And by the way, she apparently had a will that say you get the custody of twins if something happens to her so, go right ahead and claim the reward of being the best sister, I'm not going to fight you for it."

"I know you won't Hareen." Kiya waited no longer and slammed the phone on the table before her, the glass cracked multi-ways as the phone bounced to the floor. It shouldn't matter as much as it did, Kiya was exasperated at herself for breaking down at this news. She wasn't close to her sister until six months ago when Arya turned up on her doorsteps, with two tickets to Nicobar island and an apology. She didn't even know what the apology was for.

"I wasn't a sister to you. I didn't figure you were miserable but now I get it, trust me I do" is what she had said and Kiya wanted an in-budget trip out of town. So, they hugged and not a word was uttered about it ever again. Last month when Hareen returned, she started to contemplate her relationship with her sister again and wondered if she was just a diary entry for Arya, that was now over. But why did she give her the custody of her two infants? Kiya would consider herself a sensitive woman with defensive instincts but she's made way too many impulsive jumps to consider herself fit for motherhood. She was a mother now. Well, at least until she doesn't give it away for her parents to happily accept it. This was supposed to be her last night but not anymore. There was a lot on her mind.

By the time Kiya scraped her little body outthe bed the next day, she was ready to take the world down if anyone even tried to take the twins away from her. As much as she liked the idea of giving away the custody to someone more expert at parenting than her, her parents didn't green mark every checkbox on her list of better parents. Maybe she can find one and then die peacefully. As expected, everyone except Hareen tried to convince her into giving away the custody of twins. A girl and a boy that Arya had named Darya and Eklavya respectively.

"You can't mess up their life Kiya. You are taking them with you, my kids must not know pain."

"Not your kids, mum. My kids." Kiya said before tucking the baskets inside the car and gave a grave look of warning to either of her glaring parents and at last to Hareen. He just looked away with a suppressed guilt. Maybe he was ashamed, for leaving his children to their very much mentally ill aunt, not that he knew of her suicidal tendencies but she had a feeling that everyone who see her, immediately knew about it.

'They are going to cry but that's okay. Crying is okay. Be calm. Even if they cry at the same time. Change diapers every two to three hours and feed every three to four hours.'

Kiya chanted to herself with eyes focused on the road and brain fog kept at bay with continued murmur of words.

'Hold, pat, swing. Do not overfeed. Do not leave them alone. Patience. Patience. Patience.'

Two hours and three stops later she was on her doorsteps, wiggling the keys between left thumb and forefinger.

The front yard reeked of rotten flesh and she wondered if some cat has yet again left a dead rat at a plant's feet.

Dillon uncle nextdoor hadn't smelled it yet, it seemed or he'd be on the wall asking her to clean it up and get rid of the stink. He was a nice old man with a long bushy beard and well tied turban but age have its drawbacks other than talking to every passer-by.

"Let me take you both inside and do your motherly task. We'll deal with this smell later. Won't you agree?" Kiya caught herself talking to the two infants drooling in the baby baskets. She wondered if she was catching the unnecessary talking habit from her next-door neighbour. It wasn't a very bad thing she concluded and unlocked the door to get out of the fainting sun.

Nights are often lonely and peaceful for the same reason. Kiya haven't had both the privileges together for a long time. The silence of the room has somehow conspired with her brain to make every night like a war zone inside her head. A battle she's been fighting alone every damn day since a teenager. Now she goes to bed and hopes for the war to end on its own. Maybe if she doesn't look there, it will cease to exist. She put the kids in the cradle she had brought along, they were quiet if not both asleep and felt herself dozing off. She forced her lids apart as her eyes noticed the plush teddy move. It was a very gentle movement, barely noticeable but she knew it happened. Maybe the wind, she convinced.

The window was ajar and the weather was certainly not dim. It seems to be celebrating the arrival of Darya and Eklavya into her home. Despite the past that wasn't as old yet, she was happy in the heart for new presences. The voice in her head was busy conspiring foranother day as this day or night as it was, was calm. She stared up to the rotating fan and it too was elated with the new company. Maybe it was the start of a new life, maybe she was meant to live past her attempt so she could be a mother and raise a family. Just as the thought sneaked past her brain, the side of her left eye caught the glimpse of something beside the cradles that were placed side by side behind the almost transparent curtain. She turned her head to nothing but a whole chunk of air. The little ones laid there peacefully. She liked the farce of mischievous weather most nights except some when it would show her images she wished to forget. Kiya closed her eyes to a dark silhouette with eyes glowing bright yellow and consuming her head and senses along. It was as if her lids were sewn shut until the lit eyes started to dull down revealing the familiar face of her sister. Arya looked lost and sad. She was supposed to be at peace after death but her eyes were leaking yellow mush.

Kiya didn't sleep that entire night and sat beside the baby cradles. She didn't want to have night terror and wake up screaming when the kids were asleep. But that was just the thought her nervous system decided to betray as she slumped down beside her bed on the cold marble floor. It was the night without dreams and she was happy to wake up three hours later at the sight of morning sun, gleeful and ecstatic. Darya was up and staring at her with big amber eyes, Eklavya was still asleep. She had forgotten the image of her sister from last night and was ready to rollwith the day. Plan to search for suitable parents was still in the back of her brain, but very vague and too far to be concerned for. She wondered what it would be like to have them grow up around her. Have them turn a year and see the run across the garden, turn four and wave from the window of the school bus. She wondered how it would feel to see them grow and be by their side when they hurt their knees on the concrete.

"Only one mango for one of you. Can't take more than that." Mr. Dillon was commanding some kids, when his eyes crossed the mid wall and landed on the two baskets in her hand. His brow shot up and back down as he regained her composure and walked closure to the boundary wall. "Is that baby in your hand?"

"Yes, babies actually."

"Adopted?"

"Sort of. They are my sister's. She died."

"That's filthy unfair. God bless you and these poor kids."

"Thank you, Dillon uncle. I'm going out for a walk." Kiya expected him to nod and go back but he clapped his hands and asked to join. The outside of house was mostly empty grounds with an occasional placement of small homes in distance but under a kilometre radius of her home, there were just three other houses, Mr. Dillon's, a joint family lived on the other side of him and a group of friends lived opposite to their house half a kilometre away. This was the best bet for a space she believed to have gotten seven years ago when her first book hit major bars in the world of author's gala. Having started off with a story that shook the graves of ghost hunters, she wanted to up her game by choosing a place that couldgive her the sense of both peace and eerie. It worked for a few years and she wrote two other books and five short works of thriller but then something broke within her, a guard maybe or will to survive. She pushed aside the passion she had built out of choked cries and started to discover and loose herself at the same time.

"It is the first time I've seen you off for a walk."

"I know. I don't often go out for walks. It's me and my treadmill amidst pale walls."

"I never judge you, you must know that." Mr. Dillon spoke again and this time he caught her entire attention. "But I'm an old man and I sense you falling. I never said it as you have had quite the same routine since all the time you lived here. Now you have two kids."

"I live a life of solitude, it helps with writing better. And crowded areas aren't my lullaby." Mr. Dillon said nothing and Kiya was thankful for it considering he knew her last work published three years ago.

Back home after putting the babies in cradles, fed and cleaned, she sat down again to write and post an hour long struggle with keyboard, two lines mirrored through her eyes, 'Fear is oxygen, it keeps us alive but excessive can cause major damage. My oxygen is turning poisonous as I'm faced with undeniable clarity that I was never fit for motherhood.' The half filled water glass sat still before her, reflecting a vague figure of her sister, battered and pale. Her eyes swollen shut as she started to move slowly, humming irrelevant rhyme. Kiya recognized the long red dress she wore to Nicobar that tore itself after getting stuck on a nail. The dress was still torn, right beneath the calfand white finger crawled out followed by a hand. A loud cry from one of the cradles startled her up and next she turned, it was nothing but empty space where her sister stood a second ago.

"You are seeing things Kiya. It's not healthy, not normal. You are not normal." Now both the cradles were oozing cries yet it felt distant to her clouded brain.

'It was just an imagination. It wasn't real. Snap out of it Kiya. You are okay. Imagination, just an imagination.'

The cries were still distant, her brain was still clouded by the image of her sister and all she wanted in that moment was to feel something other than the constant numbness. After the hard splash of cold water, the brain fog subsided. The cries were now replaced with a low hum of woman singing. On entering the room, she was taken back by unexpected presence of her parents.

"The door was open Kiya and they were crying. Where were you?" Asked her father. His glasses sat low on his nose and fist closed tight around the cradle bar. She wasn't unfamiliar with this rage yet her heart raced at glimpse. Her mother had that look in her eyes that she always feared when among the crowd of guests. Something that conveyed 'this isn't over yet.'

Mother kept humming and Kiya counted her breaths. A low familiar hum she remembered from early days of childhood. Then they were out in the hall with a conversation on the table Kiya did not imagine to face so early.

"That was irresponsible Kiya. Not that I expected any better."

"I was here the entire time and I often leave the door open. This place is safe, mum."

"It's in the middle of a jungle, don't talk to me about safety. These Kids deserve better."

"I amtaking care of them, I went to the bathroom for five minutes."

"You are not fit to be a mother. They will be doomed if they stay and I'll be bound to blame myself."

"Were you mum? Were you both fit to be parents when you had me, when you had Arya?"

"Kiya, we did our best." Her mother's voice was barely a whisper at this point while her father sat arms folded on the couch, his gaze averted but there was this tension in his shoulders where she knew he was restraining himself.

"I know you did, mum. But I also know, no one is ever fit enough to be a parent yet they have children and build them as they deem acceptable. No parents can give their children what they truly deserve and it hurts me to see them take birth only to become their parents and the cycle never ends. And it's not their fault, I think I turned out like you two even when I feared it my entire life."

"I wish you were a fraction like me, just a fraction."

"I'm - " A violent sob escaped her throat and from the corner of her eyes, she saw her father sit up straight.

"You do what you want with these two dolls you have inherited from your sister. It's her fault too to be so irresponsible with her kids, now whatever comes upon them, we aren't into this." Her father said seething and walked out of the door without a second glance or even to see if his wife was following her.

"All conversations with you end up like this. You have always been like this. I don't know how to talk to you."

"You never understood mum."

"Then make me."

"I tried. I don't think you did a bad job of raising me, I justwas a little different than what you might want in a child."

"You are different. I thought I had a daughter but I had a monster who made my life hell. Your sister knew it too. She was much more understanding of our emotions and you are just selfish. You won't talk to me and if you ever do, it's all these mysteries and riddles. Sometimes I wonder if you are even my child."

"I am as stubborn as you, mum and as angry as father. I am just what your child would be, built by a part of each." A conversation that, like any other, went nowhere. After a while her mother left too. Although, unlike pretending Kiya wasn't standing right there on her doorsteps like her father, caressed her hair before leaving. And it made her feel better, a little.

Inside of the home was more peaceful now and, not the way she wished to repel often but the one that called her and held her. Checking on the infants first, she snuggled into the blankets. It was the time of fading light and a cold breeze was creeping through the open windows. Maybe it wasn't actually good for the little ones, she wondered. A thin piece of curtain surrounding the can't protect them from cold. So, for the first time in months, she closed the window of her room and the air inside turned heavy or it was what she felt even though this doesn't exactly coincide with scientific facts, she had a hard time breathing. Maybe it was the tingles from wind that made her feel not so alone in this lonesome house. The blue painted walls, the massive bed with daffodil bedsheet and a mirror that was usually left ignored, were her only accomplices and she never caredfor more. There were too many voices inside her head to have any more around. The heaviness subsided and she went to the cradles where Darya and Eklavya were asleep. She did not know what comes next or if she'd be good for the two. She did not think she was fit but who is. Just as she turned to approach her bed, she noticed the glimpse of a figure laying on her bed through the curtain, it was turned away from her but it was a woman in a red gown. She felt no fear at the presence of a stranger in her room but confusion and dissociation, as if it was the world of her building but different than her expectation.

Reaching over to the bed Kiya silently laid down beside the sleeping figure of the most elegant woman she's ever seen. She could not see her face and there was no movement of breathing but the little exposed neck on the lady was pale with a slight bruise line. Kiya knew it was not real, none of it could be real. She was hallucinating again. Kiya turned the other way and turned off the lamp. Entire room plunged into warm, serene darkness and the only voice came from her own heart beating. After what seemed to be like a few minutes, she felt the bed shifting and rustle of sheets. She looked back and the woman was gone, now replaced by a giant grotesque face with its eyes sewn shut, its lips trembled as it struggled to speak. Kiya wanted to scream, call for help but she felt herself choking on something stiff in her throat and tried to cough it out. A heavy flow of sticky glue-like substance emitted through her mouth. She couldn't breathe, not throughnose, not through mouth and there was no one around to see. Just when she thought she wouldn't survive, her eyes snapped open. She stayed on her belly, frozen and eyes staring into nothingness of dull morning light.

Nightmares. One this horrifying hadn't graced her night since she left home. Kiya wasn't new to nightmares or hallucinations, even in this home it was never too far away but she knew this one was more horrid. Everything of last night seemed blurred, the woman with silk gown, the cruel grotesque figure or even the part with her parents. She wondered if even that was any true at all.

That can't be a dream. If it were, she would wake halfway, she convinced herself. Maybe she wasn't fit for the children, for life and for this world.

With the heat of sun melting every muscle in her body, she ran past the garden of Mr. Dillon's house, then the colossal home where lived the joint family of fifteen and then a group of friends having a pool party. Rest of the journey was just amidst big bushy trees and dried fallen leaves of forest that ran either side of the road. She adored it once, felt the chirp of birds and enjoyed the tingle of breeze on her skin. Now it was just her and the buzz in her brain. She feared if she stopped, the ickiness under her skin would return. Like the little snails crawling through her entire body, wanting to escape but can't. Not without tearing her body down or a couple of pills of anxiety.

The haze of the previous day was wearing off and as her body lay still on the forest ground, she could feel the prickles pushing through the bare skin on her feet, arms and neck. It wascold so it felt good, a grounding process indeed. That's when it hit. She had left the infants alone, at home. It took her almost fifteen minutes to get back and find Darya and Eklavya screaming out their brains. A sharp sting of pain surged to her head that went as quick as it came and thankfully did not incapacitate her to tend to the kids. The house felt quieter than usual but not at peace. She could feel the shadows looming over, waiting for the sun to go down and creep into her dreams. She did not want to dream or not sleep at all if it was inevitable. That one conversation with Hareen came to her mind, the one she's never told anyone about. It was the day after they had learnt about Arya's pregnancy and she found him sitting alone in the empty cinema she often visited to clear her mind. He looked beat and dissociated, until Kiya shook him and asked what was on his head.

"We are going to have a baby." He had said and even though she felt no sense of excitement at the news, she put on a huge smile and said, "that's a great news. I can't wait to meet the little ones."

"I can't be father Kiya. Arya is so happy and she is twirling around telling everyone and preparing for babies but look at me."

"She didn't tell me." She had said blankly staring into the space between two seats ahead and Hareen turned to her as if she had said something out of this world. He then shook his head. "We haven't met you in ages, it must have slipped off her but that is not the point. I'm not ready to be a father, I can't take care of kidsand kids that small and, I have to raise them. The hell?"

"You'll know what to do when it's time. Everyone learns."

"I can't. I know I'm going to mess them up. I might lose my temper when they cry, I might push them too hard to study or be good at sports. What if I'm one of those dads? I hated when my father used to yell at me for not getting job securing grades in college but I get it you know. He was concerned about me and I don't want to be as concerned about someone that I push them to consider death before facing another day."

"I don't know Hareen. Did you talk to Arya?"

"No, she's too happy. I can't tell her I don't want kids but I can't do this. I will not be a father." He had, at last, wiped his face with his sleeves before spring away and out the hall.

"It hurts, doesn't it? To be left alone. To desperately need help but no will to ask for it. To scream to yourself. It hurts right?" Kiya was shocked and frozen to spot as she saw her sister in a beautiful blue dress, walk across the room from twins to the window. Not for a second her eyes met Kiya but she knew she was talking to her. "I see you sister. I see you flapping your wings in the ocean but the drowning pigeon doesn't float. Haven't you understood it yet? You need to let go." Arya was now staring out of the window at the far end of the dark night. "Look, it is so beautiful out there, wind, the sky. How rarely we stand and just see, not worry but see and be consumed by this eternal beauty. What's there to stay otherthan this?" She gestured to the clear sky glimmering with stars and, with one sweep of step ahead, she jumped off the edge. Kiya snapped out of daze and ran to see nothing but the ground with lush grass. The sky was indeed beautiful, the first time she had noticed how pretty it looked without clouds shadowing the stars. She barely ever notices the difference whenever she sees it and today it was like nothing else mattered.

"You see that, kids? Universe is bloody huge and we," A husky sound of laughter escaped her throat. She switched on her computer and typed another paragraph under the previous one.

'We look through a telescope and believe how far we've come when far isn't even the word. You know what my last therapist said? I deserve to be happy but, I don't agree. What is life if not the constant reminder of aching time? What is death if not the only achievable peace?'

She was sinking deeper and deeper into the well of numbness and she missed the time when she actually feared for something or someone. She wanted to feel again but it was nothing but silent buzz sweeping her entire body. She could promise if someone stabbed her in that moment, she wouldn't know. As if her jellied body would stretch inside like an elastic and be back when knife is pulled out. Wondered if she was incapable to get hurt.

Even looking at Darya and Eklavya did not make her feel any intensity of warmth, in fact it was almost like she was looking at two cell operated dolls. She wondered how much of these lives meant to her or whether she considered them alive or not.

"You are going to kill us." A light chirpy voice hit her ears and she looked backdown to see Darya's crate empty. A little girl no more than five stood beside it and Kiya backed into the wall tripping over the curtain and fell over on ground. The girl laughed the innocent laughter she remembered from one of the old pictures of herself and Arya. She looked precisely as Arya did once. The same dark brown hairs and big amber eyes.

"Darya." Kiya mouthed as in attempt to speak, a whole blow of air escaped her throat. "Its not true. Its not true. I'm seeing things." Kiya chanted to herself. Her heart pounded thunderously and sweat appeared on her forehead against the chills within. It's was probably the last straw she was searching for. When her eyes opened after a long pause of stiffness, she pushed herself up and checked the two crates which were perfectly intact with the babies drooling inside it. Next she knew she was out of the house two baby baskets in her hands, sprinting towards her car. After securing the baskets in the back seat, she turned the key with the hand on the gear stick. The car groaned as if on ventilator and silenced immediately. She tried a few more times but to no avail. She heard engine roar up from a distance and ran out to see five youngster approach in a jeep. She held out a hand to stop and the girl driving pulled over.

"I need a lift to nearest bus stand. Can you please?"

"Of course. Come on." All of them stoically ignored the fact that they have never interacted despite living at walking distance and seeing each other almost every time Kiya leaves her home.

"Do you mind driving a little slow. I have kids along."

"You can sit here. It will be least windy here and you won't feelmuch of breaker jumps." One of the boys sitting at the back said, shifting to the other side. He had huge red framed glasses on and his charcoal hairs were mess as if he didn't even try. She wondered if she trusted them and the answer came, no. But she trusted herself lesser. Not for another minute she was going to risk their lives with herself in charge. The sky was as clear as can be, Kiya was holding on tight to the two baskets. She knew it was unsafe and she knew she was being nervously stared at by the three kids in their early twenties while one trying hard to concentrate on the road ahead while drive in the speed limit. Around those sneaky stares, she realized they were more afraid of her than concerned and it didn't surprise her at all.

"I am Geeta by the way, the one on the wheel is Soha and these two - "

"Um - I'm not - not really in headspace to talk right now. If you don't mind." It was a high gravity uncomfortable ride after that.

As soon as the jeep stopped, Kiya hurried out with a tiny murmur of thank you and raced to the ticket counter. This time of the night, both bus station and bus were quite empty and silent yet suspicious glares from anyone around made it obvious, she was being reckless with the babies. But she wasn't thinking.

"You got any change?" A skinny old face zoomed towards her and grabbed her forearm, as she was putting the baby baskets on the seat and before she could process what he said, he was being hauled away by another younger man out of the bus. "We don't need money father. I have the change." He was saying.

An intensesense of being watched creeped up her spine and it wasn't until she was on the bus steps, about to hop off, she turned to look at seven other people that were on the bus. They all were either sleeping or had their faces lit up but screen light of their phones.

"Is this your stop madam?" The middle-aged driver asked, his demeanour gentle and self-conscious. "Yes." she replied and stepped out of the bus into warmth of city air.

'You still have a chance, Kiya? Don't do this. He left them once.'

'He doesn't have to do this if he doesn't want to.' Kiya went through internal conflict as she stood before Hareen's front door at four in the morning.

'What if your parents are as ignorant as they once were?'

'I know they are but it's not the worst.'

'What about their proud bigotry? You don't want kids to turn into that?'

'No but this isn't something I can help with. Now please stop talking. Stop talking to yourself Kiya.' She hurriedly pressed the doorbell and sprinted off the porch and out the garden door. Hareen came a few minutes later, looking disoriented and groggy which could be explained by the time it was. By one look he recognized the little ones and took both baskets inside. On the other side Kiya took a sigh of relief and went off.

Hareen

I don't know how to phrase this, I don't even know I should get on with this letter. I don't expect you to understand but here comes a long rent on why I can't do this. My night has been full of nightmares recently. Is there a way to end it, I don't know. I have no way to know if this could be stopped but it's scary as far it has come along. Too manytoo much. Maybe my brain is used to it by now. I sleep every night wishing it to not be there but it catches me at most unexpected times like naps at noon or between work. Nowadays nights are better, it knows I'm waiting for them but as I write it, having woken up from one, I see how these nightmares have made my life miserable. Everyone says nightmares are harmless, they don't resonate real life and I agree. Still my real life pass by rattled and jumpy as I can't let go of them. I can't forget them. They are there and they see me. I know the time I put my guard down, they will be back and they will be scarier than ever. My sleepless nights aren't the cause of these but grim days are. I can't talk to anyone with a tone so normal as my brain sits consumed by these nightmares and heart pumps the fear to my body. They are very clear, you know, just as a day. Almost as if I could touch them if wasn't so scared. I want them gone and replaced with something new and happy but I know that's a far cry. I don't want to keep expecting something that might just disappoint me at last. It won't be the first time. I know you would ask me to get help, talk to someone but I can't urge on this hard enough that there is no help for people like me and there will never be even if I waited. I want you to take these kids and give them a good life, take help from my parents, they aren't the best but they're all you got. I sat on this decision a lot and I still am verymuch afraid. But I know they will turn out well, Arya did. No one is perfect but she was closest to it. And even if they don't, well that's life, isn't it? Not everyone is meant to change the world. If you decide to give them to my parents for entire of responsibility then, just know, I understand. I have grown to learn life always doesn't throw the smoothest shots at us. I need to get back to me before I face you all. Have a nice life now and forward .

Kiya

Hareen folded the letter a few times too many and pushed it inside his jeans pocket.

"Smells like you two need change of diapers first."