The cutter blade pressed cold against Akira's throat. Blood hadn't yet spilled, but the tension in the room was thicker than fog. A deep silence hung between the two boys like the calm before a deadly storm. Akhil sat astride Akira, his breathing controlled, face expressionless, but his eyes—a churning ocean of memories, of pain, of decisions that could no longer be undone.
Akira stared up at him, a crooked smile on his face despite the edge resting against his skin. "So, what do you think now, Akhil?" he asked, voice low and raspy. "Aren't we the same?"
Akhil tilted his head, slowly, with the same eerie calm that came after years of silent suffering. His left hand raised and touched the side of his own face. "No," he said softly. "We're not."
Akira's expression flickered—momentarily stunned. "But why?" he asked.
Akhil didn't answer immediately. Instead, his voice sharpened, "How did you know about her?"
Akira's breath caught. His chest rose and fell slowly but heavily. "Your phone," he said. "You left it on that day. I saw the messages... the photos. I didn't mean to—"
"So you're a hacker too?" Akhil cut him off, eyes narrowing.
Akira's grin faded. "Just kill me already."
But Akhil didn't move the blade. Not yet. Instead, a twisted smile crept across his lips. "First, listen to me. Then… then we'll compare our stories. Let's see who's more broken."
The room, once a place of confrontation, became a theater of memories.
---
Flashback
The hallway outside the operating room was filled with anticipation. Akhil's father stood with his mother's parents, their faces tense, tired from hours of pacing.
When the nurse stepped out, her voice was bright. "Congratulations! It's a boy!"
But instead of joy, disappointment painted every face.
"We wanted a girl," his grandmother whispered. His grandfather shook his head. Even his father exhaled, almost in dismay. "Another burden," he muttered.
---
Years passed. Akhil was now in the second standard. He sat alone on a swing in the school playground, gently rocking. The air was filled with children's laughter—but not his.
A teacher walked past, noticed him. "Hey, are you Nikhil's younger brother?"
Akhil nodded.
"You'll say the pledge tomorrow in assembly," she added and walked away.
Inside, Akhil whispered, "Why? Why can't they say my name? Why do I only exist in his shadow?"
---
School ended that day. Akhil had to wait half an hour for his elder brother's classes to finish. Sitting alone near the field, he was soon surrounded by older boys.
"Hey," one sneered, "Why didn't you give me the answers in the test?"
Before he could speak, fists rained down on him. No mercy. No reason.
Half an hour later, he sat on the dirt, dazed, shirt torn. Nikhil arrived.
"Why are your clothes dirty?" Nikhil asked.
"I fell while running," Akhil lied.
"Carry my bag," came the response.
"Okay."
---
That night, lying in bed, Akhil felt a deep ache in his back. Curious, he pressed his fingers to his spine and winced. There was a gap between his vertebrae. A void. Like the one growing in his soul.
---
Years moved on. Now in fifth standard, the bullying didn't stop. If anything, it worsened. He was still alone. Still unheard.
At home, things weren't better.
"Akhil," his father would say, "We have high hopes for you. You have to become successful."
Akhil wanted to scream. Chest pain. Spinal issues. Trouble breathing. But no one knew. No one asked.
His father issued commands. His mother echoed them. His brother passed them down.
And he obeyed.
Then, one evening:
"Why are you always in your room? Why so quiet?" his father asked. "We haven't seen you smile in years."
Because I hate my smile, Akhil thought. Because you made me hate it.
---
Years later. Another school. No more bullying—but still no friends. No emotions. No connection.
He existed. Nothing more.
---
End of Flashback
Back in the present, silence returned. A suffocating kind of silence.
Akira exhaled. "Yours is... interesting."
Akhil didn't flinch. "Any last wishes?"
Akira's voice cracked. "My time has come. You got your girl. I got mine too."
Akhil's eyes narrowed.
"Her name is Hinata," Akira said. "Please… don't hurt her. She's innocent. Please... just stop yourself before—"
Shhk!
The cutter swung.
A moment of stillness.
Then Akira's head tilted. The light in his eyes vanished.
Akhil slowly stood, looking at the lifeless body beneath him.
"Who knows," he whispered, "what I'll do now."
He turned toward the door, a storm quietly building in his soul.
Not all stories end in redemption.
Some… begin with revenge.