Tragic Thrillers

  • 01 Apr - 07 Apr, 2023
  • Salaar Laghari
  • Fiction

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve listened to you when I had the chance.”

“You just fainted,” he changed the conversation, “was that something new?”

“This has been happening to me since few days.”

“Should I take you to the doctor?”

“You!” the driver yelled and interrupted our conversation. “I’m going to report to the police.”

Wajeeh picked up the gun that was on the ground and aimed it towards the driver and warned him:

“Run away from here or you’re dead like your boss.”

The driver got terrified and left the spot. I got a bit surprised but I wanted to leave immediately which was why I spoke:

“Wajeeh please take me away from here. I’m worried, I might kill someone again.”

“I told you Sohail. I told you to stay away from that place. You were given a place to stay, I had provided you everything. And you did what you were warned not off.”

I really hated him for talking like this at the moment. This guy had no sense of understanding the situation and then talking when it was appropriate. This was the reason why he was just speaking whatever the hell wanted to. But anyways I apologised and accepted my mistake. I then asked him:

“Can we go someplace else? I need to see a neurologist or a psychiatrist.”

“Alright, I’ll take you. But after that you’ll have to stay with me.”

“Okay!”

“You have to promise me that!”

“I promise…”

Poor Wajeeh had no idea that his father’s indirect yet actual murderer was standing right in front of him. Yes, now I believe and I agree that I am completely responsible for his father’s death. But he must never know and I shall have to keep my lips sealed regarding this issue.

Two hours later, Wajeeh and I we were seated outside the room of some neurologist in a well–known hospital. I was agitated at the moment but things were going on according to Wajeeh’s terms and conditions. So, I just asked him:

“We are not telling him about the murders I committed, are we?”

Professor Zeeshan Akbar showed the photo to Shehla, the one he was holding, and while showing he said:

“This moment was captured while you shot him…”

While expecting to see me in the picture, Shehla was quite shaken. She was kind of terrified after what she saw in the photo.

“That’s…that’s not t–true,” she stuttered pointing at the picture.

“I’m sorry but it is,” professor replied.

In the picture, Shehla had aimed the gun at no one. Or in other words, I wasn’t there in the picture.

Professor Zeeshan stood up and before leaving he said to her:

“Shehla, the guy you were in love with did not really exist. He was just in your mind.”

Meanwhile inside the canteen, the one student who had completed the report now explained the entire case of four women to her two colleagues, who were seated next to her.

“This guy Sarim Waqar,” she began, “died a long time ago and he existed only as a hallucination in the minds of these four women.”

She took a pause for a whole minute and then continued:

“Sarim Waqar was a celebrity, a movie star and his death was a tragedy, for all his fans. The moment he was killed by his own servant Zubair Karwani, the news spread like fire. It was media frenzy all over. However, there were a lot of women who were his fans and loved him.”

She paused again.

Yes, it’s true. I did not exist in reality. I died a long time ago but these four innocent women truly loved me. They were hit so badly with this news that they became schizophrenics.

The student continued again:

“I know that you both know about it but I’m repeating the definition of this disease. This disease schizophrenia usually occurs due to some tragedy or accident that one’s mind is not able to accept. Now what happens in this disease is that the sufferer sees people and hears voices that do not actually exist.”

“Alright! We know it,” one of the other students answered.

“So anyways, Sarim’s murder was a tragedy to a lot of women. And a lot of women were heartbroken. But four lonely women, I repeat again four lonely women were the ones who became schizophrenics. They had no one to talk to, they were so alone and miserable with their lives, even before Sarim’s death.”

“So because they were lonely, their minds created these personalities.”

“Yes, these personalities Abdullah, Rashid, Ahsan and Saad were created by their minds who had a common physical feature…You know Sarim Waqar’s appearance. So in short they had a common hallucination.”

There was a moment of silence.

Two months earlier as I came to Omama’s house while it was raining, she offered me a towel. Besides this, she offered me a cup of coffee. And what did I say?

“No, thank you dear.”

Because I did not exist, so I couldn’t hold anything tangible.

And about the towel, I never actually held the towel. It was her who kept it on the sofa. And as I left, she found the towel totally dry and clean. No wetness or stains whatsoever.

He didn’t even use the towel she wondered by herself.

This proves that I did not exist in real and only in their minds.

Anyways, the student who was explaining asked the others:

“Do you have any questions?”

“Well…” one of the others asked, “these women do they still see him? I mean is he still a hallucination in their minds?”

“Sadly yes, as Professor Zeeshan told us…These women cannot be cured so easily.”

Several days back, as Farheen got quite disturbed seeing DVD covers at her home, she uttered:

“No, it’s not true. No, this didn’t happen.”

The answer to why she was behaving this way is because those were my movies. She had collected all the DVDs of my movies. And when I died, she hid them away. This was the reason why she was so stressed when she saw those DVDs. Because she remembered and realised that I had passed away.

The other two students were now clear with the case and were reading the report once more.

“So where’s Professor Zeeshan?” one of them asked.

“I don’t know,” replied the other one, “he’s probably inside, talking.”

“Talking? To whom?”

“Some doctor who assumed that one of the patients recovered.”

Several days back, Farheen and Omama heard me say:

“I was attacked!”

That was my famous movie line. This was repeated in two movies.

And the stories they heard from me concerning being slaves of money and easier to hate than love were all themes of my movies.

Meanwhile inside the ward, Professor Zeeshan who was holding the picture in front of Shehla, heard someone saying:

“Please don’t do that…”

Professor Zeeshan looked at him and asked:

“And who are you?”

“I’m Doctor Waraich…My job here is to consider every possibility that can cure these women’s minds.”

“I see!”

“So, I’m here seeing that as long as this woman Shehla believes that she actually killed her boyfriend, she does not see those hallucinations.”

“Wait, you mean there’s a possibility that she won’t see the hallucination after she believes he’s dead.”

“Well, those are the reports” the doctor replied. “Of all these four women, Shehla is the only one who hasn’t seen her boyfriend’s hallucination. The other three are still calling out the names of their lovers and are still talking to them.”

“Oh…Really? Well, I guess this proves it then…”

“Proves what?”

“The only way to cure these women is to make them believe that their lover is no more alive. We can plan some fake drama and have their lovers dead.”

“It’s not necessary that this way of treatment would cure them forever. It could be a temporary solution.”

Professor Zeeshan remained silent assuming he was right.

Shehla was sitting in the room but she wasn’t listening to them as her mind was in a bit of shock since she had seen the photo.

Doctor Waraich looked at her and walked towards her bed. He asked her:

“How do you feel Shehla?”

She didn’t respond as she was kind of afraid and was staring at Professor Zeeshan.

“Don’t look there,” the doctor spoke politely, “tell me how are you feeling right now?”

“What did this man do?” she asked pointing her finger towards the professor. “In the photo, he removed Rashid.”

“Forget the picture,” he talked gently, “just tell me how you feel. Or tell me about your boyfriend. Do you see him here at the hospital?”

“No, I don’t,” she answered finally turning her face towards the doctor she was talking to.

“Why is it that you don’t see him no more?”

“Because I killed him.”

“Do you remember the moment?”

Professor Zeeshan was listening to her answers very carefully.

“Yes I do,” Shehla answered like a normal person, “but I won’t tell you about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you’re a cop and you’ll have me arrested. Don’t think I’m a fool.”

The doctor held his forehead and chuckled speaking:

“My dear I’m not a cop. I am your doctor. I’m here to help you.”

“…I don’t think so,” she spoke after a pause.

“Alright fine, don’t tell me about the incident. Just tell me that have you ever seen your boyfriend since then?”

“How would I?” she asked feeling ridiculed. “Do you mean in pictures or videos or do you mean in reality?”

“I mean both.”

“No I haven’t,” she spoke each word very clearly.

She made it perfectly clear for both of them that she had recovered. Now the question was, temporarily or permanent?

*************

Omama was lying in her room. Her hands were tied and so was her entire body. The room’s lights were off but rays of sunlight were coming. She was sleeping. Some noise woke her up and she opened her eyes. She looked around and remembered that she wasn’t in her home but some terrible place.

A moment later, she saw me standing right in front of her. I was in black clothes and my arms were folded. She was shaken as she saw me and cried:

“Saad! Saad please take me away. Please Saad, I want to come along with you.”

I didn’t respond and kept on looking at her. She started to resist what was holding her and cried louder:

“Saad! Why aren’t you talking to me?”

One of the nurses opened the door of her room and two other nurses entered inside. They saw that she was yelling and talking looking at some specific location. And no one was standing there.

“Get the injection,” one nurse instructed the other.

After few seconds, the two nurses rushed towards her and one of them held her arm. The other one prepared the injection. She was resisting and crying out loud. She could still see me but I wasn’t there is reality. I was only in her mind.

“Don’t do this please,” she pleaded to the nurses.

Quite unexpectedly, the two psychologists Mr Akbar and Mr Waraich appeared and stopped the nurses from injecting. Mr Waraich paid close attention to the direction Omama was continuously seeking help from.

“Listen Omama,” he spoke loudly, “this man betrayed you. He does not deserve your love.”

“Can you please let me out of this place?” she pleaded.

“I will only in condition you let me explain something first.”

“Okay!”

“This guy Saad does not love you truly. He was just playing with your heart. He deserves to die.”

Omama seeing that I wasn’t helping her at all a moment ago agreed with the doctor and asked:

“Then how should I stop loving him?”

“The only way to end this is to have him killed,” Professor Zeeshan answered her. “And we’re here to do that.”

She gave it a thought and didn’t like the idea of killing me.

“Think about it Omama,” Professor Zeeshan continued. “He played with your feelings and didn’t value you. And after we’re done with this, you can return back to your home.”

She didn’t answer and looked at me sadly. Dr Waraich nodded his head as a signal. The nurse injected on her arm through the prepared injection.

Professor Zeeshan threw a knife that he had been holding at the exact location where I was standing according to Omama. She saw it and slowly her eyes gained blurriness as she fainted. After she fainted, Dr Waraich instructed:

“Okay good…Now all we need to do is design a picture in which her boyfriend is lying injured and dead. This might break her heart but she’ll at least accept the fact that he’s dead and the hallucination won’t appear before her anymore.”

to be continued...

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