Zawar

1.

“There’s nothing to be worried about Mr. Frowler. It is just our second session. Things will get better soon. You shouldn’t be worried about Zawar. She’s not real. And I know, you know that.”

I nod timidly at Dr.Cooper.

She’s right, Jeremy. It was all a bad dream. You probably read somewhere about the riots and murders, and simply dreamt it.

“I just want you to know that the murders or the riots are not your fault in any way. You should not blame yourself for that. I believe, the sudden violence is just affecting your mental health.”

That is exactly what it is. I had told Dr. Cooper everything. She was the first who was willing to listen to my ‘stories’. So, I had told her everything. Everything.

“The ‘missing’ seven days are nothing. It’s a bit of amnesia you got when you hit your head. It was a dream. One big scary dream. The memories will return in time.”

She’s right. Nothing to panic about. You shouldn’t be making such a huge deal out of it in your head. One big scary dream. That’s what it was. She’s the doctor. She knows better.

“Zawar will leave you alone, when your heart knows that it’s not your fault.”

But it is your fault. Isn’t it, Jeremiah? The blood is on your hands. All you did was cry. You didn’t stop her.

It is on you, Jeremiah. Every streak of blood. Every drop of tear. It’s all on you. And you’ll always know that.

And since when does violence scare me? Since when screams of distress made me lose sleep?

Since when, goddammit?!

Zawar.

She felt more real than myself. She seemed so real.

I- I can still feel her breath on my ear, whispering and telling me her plans for some specific situation.

“Mr. Frowler? Mr. Frowler? Jeremiah?! ”

I look back up at Dr. Cooper.

“Yes?”

She looks at me for a few seconds, then sighs.

“I think we should stop for today. Go home and get some rest, and if possible call over someone for tonight. It’d be good for you. It’s getting late, anyways.”

I nod at her and stand up. I start moving towards the door, only to stop when I feel a breath on the back of my neck. My own breath gets stuck in my throat. Goosebumps cover the whole of my body.

A sudden urge to cry overwhelms me, though my body doesn’t respond to these emotional wants. It simply freezes. I close my eyes, in terrifying anticipation.

I feel claustrophobic. I can’t breathe. But, I don’t want to showcase my weakness. Not to anybody. Not to her.

A hand rests on my shoulder, uninvited. My whole body jerks into motion. All of a sudden, my breathlessness has turned into heavy panting. Closed eyes are wide open. My before unguarded back is now pressed against the door.

Not that a mere door would be able to guard me, to save me from her!

And there she stands, Dr. Cooper. She’s confused of my sudden, defensive stance.

“Mr. Frowler, are you alright?! You’ve been standin’ there for almost 10 minutes. Should I call emergency? ”

I gulp a breather. Just the doctor. Just the doctor.

“I’m f-fine, doc. Th-Thank you for the concern.”

With shaking fingers, my hand twists the door knob. I open the door, but Dr. Cooper stops me before I could step out.

“I really think you shouldn’t stay alone tonight, Jeremiah. Call over someone if you can.”

I offer her a wobbly smile, and finally leave.

Going down the elevator, still a bit dazed, I make my way out of the building.

What is wrong with me?!

Let’s not think of any stupid possibilities, Jeremiah.

Instead of grabbing a taxi, I walk until I reach the three-way that forces me to choose a destination.

Work or home.

I want to go back at my apartment, sink into my bed, until it had no other option than to pull me in for a peaceful sleep. But the journey from the front door to the bedroom was now a nightmare. It was my journey of feeling so vulnerable, that breathing became a chore. My body crying out, in attempts of stopping me from taking another step forward. Not in the night, a at least.

Night time is hers.

Work it is then. With a destination in mind, I resume my walk.

Going through a mental list, I realize, I’d find Micah in the building for the night shift. He’s the boss, when I’m not.

He’d be there for me. After all, he suggested I go see someone, when he found me in a paralysis like state a month ago. He told me, that my mental state is gonna be bad, for everyone.

Even though, he didn’t understand my ‘stories’, but he did offer me his best advice, and I’m grateful for that.

I make my way towards the building’s entrance.

Once past the reception, after scanning my card where Toby usually sits, my steps halt near the elevators.

The elevator door opens as soon as I press the button. I step in, and press for the 38th floor. The door closes behind me.

Suddenly, when the lift crosses the second floor, the lights flicker. I look up at them nervously. My heart skips a beat when it goes out for a second, meanwhile the elevator climbs up slowly. Once, the light is stable again, my eyes drift to the left panel of the door.

My body freezes, like the million times it has before, after Zawar’s arrival in my life.

There in the blurry reflective surface of the lift, stands a man, around 6 ft tall, blonde hair. He looks at me with emotionless brown eyes. Slowly, as he lifts his finger at me, my breath becomes ragged.

“You! You’re the reason my country’s in chaos, you coward!!”

His previously blank face morphs into a sneer full of unfiltered hate. His face freezes right there, as if an image dedicated to his hatred blossoming, only for me.

Suddenly, on the right panel another blurred image comes into focus. There I see a teenage girl, she sits on a wheel chair, her brown hair twisted into a single plate. As she wheels herself closer, she breaks into tears.

“I’m being punished because you are a coward. I won’t be able to walk, ever again. All because of you. ”

She too points her finger at me. I feel my eyes burning.

Another image becomes clear on the right wall of the elevator. Two people look straight at me.

“His incompetence started war between people who’d learned to live in harmony, brother.”

This man stands wearing an orange cloth to cover his body. A necklace with a swastika wrapped around his wrist. He speaks in a thick accent with rolling ’r’s. He looks at the other man standing beside him, wearing a cotton net cap on his head and a thick beard on his chin. When he opens his mouth, the same thick accent comes out.

“True, bhaijaan. His incompetence started war between people who’d learned to love their diversity. Coward fool.” He spat.

My body shivers from the fear that travels within me like a wave.

Then, on the left side of the back wall appears a bald man, a cigarette hanging in between his fingers. He sits on a wooden chair, which looks ready to break any second. As he looks straight in my eyes, and opens his mouth, smoke clouds come out. These clouds somehow penetrate the thick metal wall, and roams around my face. I cough, violently. Despite my discomfort, I hear him clearly.

“You knew me, Jeremy. Yet you let me die. Guess, they all say the truth. You are nothing but a cold hearted coward.”

I know the pattern now. My eyes drift to the right side of the wall, by themselves.

From what seems like a branch, hangs three ropes, tied to three different neck. A man, a woman, and their daughter. In unison, they lift there heads, and stare through my soul. I stagger backwards, as far from the wall as possible but not close to the door, where the image of the tall man and the handicapped girl is still frozen.

I see as three people, hung from a tree branch open their mouth.

“It was death for me and my wife anyways, but my daughter could have lived. You should’ve saved her. You could’ve saved her. My precious girl!!” He cries out.

My knees feel powerless, I struggle to stay erect.

Onto the left wall, my eyes trail.

Two men sit there. Both of them bloodied, and on the verge of dying. Both of them share the same face. Even though, both of them sit in tattered uniforms, these uniforms are in no way the same.

They are of different colors. They are of different countries.

Slowly, they rise. Realization hits me like a ton kg brick. I fall onto my knees.

These men are cut into half. They are the same person just parted from the middle. Blood oozes from their cut open sides like a river.

Shiny knives glint in their hands. Then, in a swift motion, they plunge these knifes into each other. And they stab, repeatedly.

Bile rises in my mouth at the gruesome scene. Tears run down my face, like a never ending rain. These men don’t say any thing.

They just stab each other.

I look around, where each one of them look at me without blinking once.

A chant arises.

Coward!

Coward!

Coward!

I hear little giggles and laughs filled with unadulterated hatred.

Meanwhile, I fall into unconsciousness, without another breath.