“Broken Pieces”

The air felt dry and claustrophobic. Sana opened her eyes to an even darker room. Under the clouds of mud and fallen parts of their house, she could hardly see anything. Sana tried harder to peel her eyes open using her bruised fingers. Each time she took a deep breath in she could taste the dust in her throat. There was no sign of anyone around but only piles and piles of broken pieces. She moved her hands around following her half-open eyes searching for Diya.

Finding a bit of a clearing without hitting her head on any hanging loose wires or fallen pieces of the roof, she sat up. Under the dried-up blood, her skin looked black and blue. Her French-manicured nails looked filthy with dirt sticking under them. She tried to look closer but was still unable to completely open her eyes making it difficult to examine the rest of the body. Whatever was left of it.

Panic kicked in as Sana found it tougher to breathe. Nothing seemed clear and the hanging piece of skin near her left eye made it tougher to search for Diya. Surprisingly, her back did not hurt as much as the rest of the wounded body parts. Moving a big plank of wood or maybe a broken piece of furniture, she did not care what it was, it just had to move aside for her to move forward. She crawled on all fours screaming in pain and calling for her little sister, Diya. But there was no sound. Not even a squeaking sound. The wind outside was quiet too. She finally found the strength to stand up and walk around the fallen home they had very proudly bought 4 years ago. There was nothing left of it.

She took a few steps only to freeze the moment her foot touched a body part, more precisely a hand. Taking slow but deep breathes she assured herself, it was not her sister’s. Confident that it wasn’t Diya she stepped on the hand with all her broken strength and walked forward calling for her, yet again.

“I’m here, Sana. I am stuck under the dining table. Can you not see me? Oh God, Sana what did he do to you?” Diya’s teary voice guided Sana to the point on the floor she lay. Touching her head, the sisters embraced in a hug like they were meeting after years not minutes.

“I love you, Diya. Are you ok? Let me help you out of there.”

“Wait, I am almost out. Don’t move too much Sana. You look….what happened when he dragged you into the room? Tell, me he is in a worse condition than you? Please Sana. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine kiddo. He is dead.”

“That quake could not have come at a better time,” Diya exclaimed moving her twisted and broken ankle from under the table.

“I doubt it was an earthquake. I think something fell on the roof. Like a plane or something. It was intrusively loud and sounded exactly like a plane was flying too low. I hope no one got hurt badly.”

“Really sana?” Lifting her wounded hands to point at the bruises and open wounds on the faces and broken arms and feet, Diya started to laugh. “Yeah, I hope no one got hurt.”

Sana laughed turning her head back towards the lifeless body of the rapist who had only an hour ago broken into their house. And was now dead. Sana hugged Diya resting her head on her sister’s lap. Tears disguised under the sounds of laughter, the girls had a lot to rebuild. 

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