“You have to give this another chance. You have to do this for us,” Avantika says, her gaze piercing into mine. I shudder at the determination in her voice but can’t help being a little in awe of her resilience. I study her for what feels like the hundredth time, her crop top with its uneven hem flaunting her generous chest, her skinny fit jeans, the stud in her belly button, the bob she wears with such confidence, the bangs over her forehead, and the streak of red running through them matching her full firm lips.
I can see how hard she’s trying not to roll her eyes or yell at me for my cowardice. I see my reflection in her eyes, surrounded by moats of disgust and ridicule. My hair is oily, parted in the middle and tied in two neat braids. I’m dressed in an old salwar kameez, the big birthmark covering more than half of my exceptionally large forehead glaring back at me. Instinctively, I cover my flat chest with my dupatta and lick my chapped lips. I’m her biggest nightmare. She is my bravest dream. And here we are, stuck together in this prison, all because I was too scared to lie convincingly.
“Come on, do it, Nisha,” Avantika says. My bland name on her fiery lips feels like a command. I look down at my wrist and see the lines. Some raw, some healed, one angry. But Avantika doesn’t seem to care about the failures. She is already planning our next escape.
I first met Avantika when I was thirteen. She saved me from the mean girls, Sasha and her gang, who had been bullying me for months. I had just lost my father, and Mummy was busy making ends meet. I couldn’t burden her with my school problems. The teachers turned a deaf ear to my plight, which only made Sasha more confident.
One day, they locked me in the toilet while the entire school was on the playground preparing for the annual day event. No one heard my screams until the end of the day. Another time, they dropped a spider into my shirt, knowing full well about my arachnophobia. Panicked, I stripped in front of the class, watching the spider crawl down my hairy legs before it escaped.
That evening, as I walked home, Avantika followed me. She smiled, a mischievous, almost sinister smile, and consoled me. She promised she’d have my back. We became instant best friends. Sasha never returned to school after that. Avantika told me she’d warned Sasha against troubling me and then complained to the principal. Finally, Sasha was made to switch schools. Things got better after that.
In college, Avantika made my life interesting. She helped me dress better to be noticed by boys and encouraged me to try alcohol. But she never did those things herself. Even when she liked the most handsome boy, she nudged me to speak to him instead. She was happy letting me lead and cheering me from the shadows.
Avantika was never around when Mummy was home. She didn’t like Mummy much, criticizing her for not being more present in my life. But I didn’t care. Avantika was my everything and we would be together forever. Mummy too seemed to dislike Avantika, when on good days, I narrated our stories to her. She, however, was happy that I finally had a friend.
In the final year of college, Mummy had a heart attack. They could not save her. Avantika and I moved into our own apartment that year. We have been living together ever since. Avantika has promised she would live with me for as long as I needed her.
Then suddenly last week, everything went downhill, when Avantika, in an attempt to save me from a drunk man, lost her cool and stabbed him. Her anger got the better of her and she continued to stab him until his body could no longer take it. I was shellshocked and couldn’t run. Avantika begged me to escape but I just couldn’t. She stood by my side till the police arrived. I couldn’t let her take the blame alone. More importantly, I couldn’t imagine life without her if she went to prison. So I confessed. But not with enough confidence. I confused the police. That’s how we both ended up in this prison. But at least we’re together.
Just then the door opens and I quickly hide the shard of glass in my pocket. The stern looking woman is back after a long time, or was it just yesterday?
“How are you, Nisha?” she asks. She is dressed in jeans and a shirt with collar. She looks normal. Not like the vigilant officers behind her. They look like they are going to break in at the snap of a finger.
“What has Avantika been saying to you? Did she find you a new blade? Perhaps a piece of glass this time?” the woman asks. There is sympathy in her eyes but she is trying to create a rift between me and my only friend. She is more than an arm’s distance away. I want to move closer. Touch her. Hold her. Strangle her.
I look at Avantika. She looks worried, as though the woman is about to expose a secret that could unravel everything. But why? I already know she killed the man. It was defense. What do people expect? That woman just surrender to their fate at the hands of men who turn into monsters? Every. Single. Time?
The woman takes a step in our direction. I hear the officers behind her take a sharp breath. She shows me her palm. I’m a little confused. Then my hand reaches into my pocket and hands her the shard of glass. After a moment of hesitation she touches my elbow and gently guides me to the other side of the room. There is a mirror there. How did they know of my fear? I hate mirrors. And who would not? It reflects my ugly self with stark precision.
“No,” I say.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here,” she says but her body seems to be at the start of a race line, on its mark, ready to go at the sound of the whistle. She nods encouragingly, and my legs begin to move as though they trust her more than my mind.
As I stand before the grimy, stained mirror, my eyes drift to the cobweb clinging to its corner, trapping the corpses of flies in a grotesque display. The woman clears her throat, pulling my focus back. I take a deep breath and steel myself, bracing to confront what I already know.
But as my gaze meets the reflection, I freeze. There I am—the faded salwar kameez, the tightly braided hair, the tired eyes, and the unsightly birthmark marring my temple. Yet something is wrong. The unsettling grin stretching from ear to ear isn’t mine. The sudden, piercing glint in those otherwise dull, lifeless eyes doesn’t belong to me either.
And yet, they are unmistakable.
They’re Avantika’s.
I reach out instinctively to the woman, Dr. Roy, but she’s already outside the room, watching me through the bars, her expression wary, as though waiting for something sinister to fully take form within me.
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