Born in Grief (The Phoenix #1)

Prologue

AMAY

Headlights sliced through the night, heading down their long driveway towards the house. He saw Aai’s face pale as she watched the long, luxury sedan draw closer from the large bay windows that lined the hall on the first floor.

“Amay,” she said softly. “Go to your room.”

He threw himself at her, wrapping his hands around her thin waist, his face buried against her soft kurta. “I want to be with you,” he whined, not wanting to leave his mother, not when she looked so scared.

She unwrapped his hands from around her. “Not now. I will come to you, okay? Later. I will come to your room, and we will spend time together.”

His lower lip jutted out, tears quivering in his eyes. “You promise?”

If his father saw him now, he would get one tight slap. His father didn’t like Amay being a pansy or a Mama’s boy. The front door slammed open, and they heard his father’s impatient footsteps in the hall downstairs.

“I promise.” She kissed his forehead, smoothing his hair away from his eyes. “Now, please? For Aai’s sake? Go into your room, close the door and don’t come out.”

He nodded, his fingers still tightly clenched in the soft, cotton material of her kurta.

“You promise me now, Amay. You won’t come out of the room. No matter what.”

His heart thudded in his chest as he watched her thin, wan face, every line in it a line of sorrow engraved into her skin. He knew what was going to happen when she said that. He knew what was coming.

“Aai-“ His voice trembled.

“Promise me, Amay!” Her voice took on a frantic edge and her fingers dug into his shoulders.

“ADITI!” His father’s voice thundered from downstairs.

Amay jumped, fear turning his blood molten and his limbs leaden.

“Promise me!” his mother hissed.

He nodded, desperate to get away from what they both knew was coming.

“I’ll see you in a little bit, baby,” she whispered, giving him a little shove. “Now go!”

He went. He ran for his room, his legs pumping with adrenalin and fear. He’d just reached his room on the third floor when he heard the first crack of sound. A sound he had intimate knowledge of. Flesh striking flesh.

He flung himself into the room, falling on the large king size bed in the middle of it and burying his face in the mountain of pillows that lined the headboard.

“Please Rakesh!”

His mother’s shriek of agony had him scrunching his eyes closed, his body shaking as tears of helpless rage and blood curdling fear flowed down his cheeks.

Another loud smack resounded in the house, the sound floating up through the central double height spaces that were a design idea that his father adored and Amay hated. The rooms lined the outer periphery of this space and went up several floors, leaving Amay feeling like he lived in a revolving library or something.

“Rakesh, I’m begging you!” His mother’s voice was frantic, a desperate mix of pain and fear. And yet, it was lined with something Amay had never heard from her before. Defiance.

“How dare you go to meet her?” His father, on the other hand, sounded calm and composed, like he was sitting down to a brunch with his business partners.

“I didn’t mean anything. I just wanted to see her, to understand-“

“Understand what?” Genuine curiosity filtered through his father’s baritone. “Understand why I prefer fucking her to you?”

Amay’s heart twisted in his chest at the words. He understood them. He knew he wasn’t supposed to. But he did. He flew off the bed, opening his cupboard doors and crawling into the dark space inside. It helped that his cupboard was the size of a small room. He shoved some jeans aside and sat down on the floor of the cupboard, his back to the wall of the cupboard and his knees pulled up to his chest. He wrapped his trembling arms around his legs and closed his eyes.

Once this was over, Aai would come and he would help her clean up her hurts and then they would lie down on his bed, hold each other and sleep. One more night would pass. And Baba never woke early in the morning. Aai and he would breakfast together and maybe go for a walk on the beach. It was directly across the road from Amay’s house. And Aai and he went often. They would buy balloons and dip their toes in the curling waves. They would-

A cracking noise, like dry timber breaking, sounded through the house followed by a high-pitched keening noise. Aai, he thought, terror struck. He should do something. He should help her. He should stop Baba.

Another scream and he shoved his hands over his ears, even as the sound pierced his eardrums and arrowed straight to his soul.

He’d promised Aai, he reminded himself. He always stayed in his room, and she came to him later. If he broke that promise, his Baba would punish her more. That’s what she always told him. He had to stay in his room. He must not interfere. This was between husband and wife. He was a child. He didn’t understand. He continued to parrot his mother’s words in his mind. An endless rote of her quiet promises and reassurances.

He heard a rhythmic thudding sound now, over and over again. But nothing more. No sound from Aai. The screaming had stopped. That was good right? If she wasn’t screaming, it meant she wasn’t hurting.

He kept his hands tightly pressed against his ears even as the thudding sound still filtered through. He wouldn’t come out of the cupboard until Aai came. When she came, he would take such good care of her, he vowed, that she would feel no pain again. He would apply the medicine they hid in his bathroom cabinet and clean the blood and wrap her hurt parts with bandages. And then Aai would hold him, and she would sing a lullaby to him, and everything would be alright.

The thudding sound stopped. Silence fell. It was over. It was finally over.

Aai would come soon, and everything would be alright again. He just had to wait for her to come. Just a little longer. Aai would come. Aai always came.

Hours later, sunlight filtered through his room and reached the tiny gap below the cupboard door. Amay stared at it in terror, his mind realizing what his heart wouldn’t accept.

It was morning. Aai hadn’t come.