I TOLD YOU I HAVE A HEART

SAVNI MAHESHWARI

Copyright © Savni Maheshwari All Rights Reserved. ISBN 979-888546834-3 This book has been published with all efforts taken to make the material error-free after the consent of the author. However, the author and the publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause. While every effort has been made to avoid any mistake or omission, this publication is being sold on the condition and understanding that neither the author nor the publishers or printers would be liable in any manner to any person by reason of any mistake or omission in this publication or for any action taken or omitted to be taken or advice rendered or accepted on the basis of this work. For any defect in printing or binding the publishers will be liable only to replace the defective copy by another copy of this work then available.

Prologue - Rhea Nabesa, that’s where I live. I was born to kill, to burn, to steal, to hate. You can call me whatever you like- an assassin, an arsonist, a thief or even the devil. When I was born into the family of the royals that followed a history of committing the greatest sins of all time, I wasn’t in for fun or happiness. I am not allowed to reveal to you the whereabouts of Nabesa and even if I did, you’d probably never want to visit it. Not because the foul and noxious air in the sky would dissipate the bronchi in your lungs or the ordinances of my society would drive you crazy, but simply because you are a human. We come into existence just like y’all, our faces are shaped using the same moulds as yours, yet we’re two worlds apart – literally. There is a major difference in our system though. We don’t speak the same language as you unless we’re made to. Everyone in Nabesa has a purpose. A purpose they inherit. A purpose they must accept to fit into the hierarchy. My world is divided into four factions Rifasci : They are the working class of Nabesa and compose of farmers, coal miners, garbage incinerators, roofers and loggers. Jobs that

● iii ●

PROLOGUE - RHEA

ensure not putting a smile on your face. They live in distorted shelters erected on the confounded landscape between the forest and the mines. It’s easy to identify a Rifasco not only because their attire is only composed of the color black but also because they are pale creatures who lack a soul. Potrosaci: They work at the Infideliac as professors to impart knowledge both practical and intellectual. They live close to the Ivaca in huts made out of mud, stone, hay and bamboo. They are only permitted to wear ochre clothes that represent something as derogatory as the repugnant dust that you wipe off your shoes, the suffocating dust that you avoid by wrapping your face with a cloth and the meaningless dust that you dissolve into once you die. Illenscai: is the royalty.The faction I am a part of. It’s rich and powerful. It’s an amalgamation of the people who possess all the luxury in the world including the luxury to look down on people. The name of the ruler or the king of Nabesa is Griffin. Andeli : Even though this faction doesn’t discriminate like the others, it is the worst. The Andeli is a crass organization of fourteen men who have been intentionally deprived of vision, their eyelids sewn shut after their eyeballs are scooped out from their sockets ruthlessly. This is done so that their vicious dispensations to

● iv ●

PROLOGUE - RHEA

men are unaccountable and unbiased. Their workplace is my home…the castle. The castle doesn’t have charming gardens or glistening chandeliers, but crepuscular walls that evoke corruption, debauchery and malignance in your mind. I have spent my entire life observing blinded men in shrouds drinking and celebrating years of successful slaughters. They sit on the chairs in the hall and when the clock strikes twelve every day, they join their hands, freezing cold with sins they have committed and they chant from midnight to noon. They murmur spells and while they do this, they twist fate. YOU DON’T WRITE YOUR DESTINY. The accidental fire, the obscene unexpected murder, the startling suicide …. it’s all deliberately designed. In Nabesa, you can apply to be an Andeli no matter who gave birth to you, but that’s a procedure I’ll explain later. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to you, but the architectural structure of Nabesa is as sadistic as its inhabitants. The Infideliac is a towering building that stands right in the center of Nabesa. This building controls the working of Nabesa.The Illenscai work here. They hand over paychecks to the poor, punish criminals and take important decisions. The backyard of this building is where children are taught by the Potrosaci. How to

●v●

PROLOGUE - RHEA

break a human being, how to manipulate their minds and how the Earth works are some of the crucial things a youthful Nabesian learns here. This training also prepares them for the 'Ispit’ The Ispit is a test, an exam that proves your existence in Nabesa in which all twenty-yearolds are sent to Earth to kill. They must use the Ivaca as a portal. The Ivaca is a fifty - feet wide crater that was created when Nabesa was. Its depths were unknown even to us. The only sign of life you’d always find hovering over this hell hole wereravens. Jet black massive birds with a thick neck, distinctive shaggy throat feathers and bowie knife beaks. This place remained isolated throughout the entire year, except on the 26th of the sixth month. All the twenty- year- olds of Nabesa would then congregate here to manifest their existence in the town. They were supposed to do what they had been trained for, be the poison, but to make it more difficult they were sent on Earth. An aureate wristlet was not only strapped to their hands to return back to Nabesa but also because it gave all the details of the execution. It was called the Dar – the name, the life thesis, the location at all times of the sufferer and the means with which they would do the deed. The Dar was also created to translate our words into a language that a human being spoken to understood. But during the Ispit

● vi ●

PROLOGUE - RHEA

talking to was minimal, not something everyone preferred to engage in. Sometimes you’d be asked to drive a truck off the bridge and other times you’d be delivered a revolver before the day of the test. Nabesians of all shapes and sizes, complexions and classes be it the Potrosaci, the Rifasci or the Illenscai participated in this nuisance while their parents sat on immense wooden stands to cheer, to hoot, to encourage. If you ever wondered what the most tragic day was in a year it was the 26th of the sixth month, I’d ask you to stay precarious but if you’re name was on any one of the Dars there was a high chance you’d be in heaven or hell before the day concluded. But the Ispit isn’t as easy as it seems. There are rules to this game. • Your deed must go unnoticed and if it cannot the reason must be censured on some justifiable cause. • You only have 15 hours to do so. That was the maximum time a Nabesian could stay on Earth in one go. • You can only exploit the human mind if you are in contact with the victim. But this cannot indirectly/directly assist you with the Ispit. Magic is only to be used if your or Nabesa’s secret identity is being compromised.

● vii ●

PROLOGUE - RHEA

• You can teleport and you are allowed to use the invisibility charm which wears off after 20 minutes. • You are only allowed to kill using the way prescribed in the Dar otherwise you fail. • Failure to complete your task leads to your death. You will be hanged Now let’s talk about my precious family. Griffin, the king of Nabesa, is my father. I considered myself lucky for I was born into an Illenscai family. I considered myself lucky as I lived in a castle. I considered myself lucky because my father was the king of the world. But little did I know that the world ‘luck’ held no meaning in Nabesa. The name of my mother is Gillian.My parents didn’t love each other...none of the couples in Nabesa did. Their marriage was just an agreement. But that’s not all. I also have two siblings – Octavia and Patroclus. And the universal truth is that siblings on every planet are a pain in the ass. Patroclus and Octavia were normal unlike me. If you sliced opened their brains, you’d find absolutely no connections with the ventro medial prefrontal cortex signifying the absence of emotions like empathy and guilt. Like I said they were normal. Two years ago, they both had been victorious. Victorious in the Ispit, the evaluation

● viii ●

PROLOGUE - RHEA

which I would be taking tomorrow. I wasn’t ready for it, but I had been waiting patiently for this day to arrive. The Ispitwasthe brainchild of a wretched man, but it was my only chance at redemption and this time I wasn’t going to mess up or that’s something I promised myself for reassurance.

● ix ●

PART 1 Death has a very black reputation but, actually, to die is a perfectly normal thing to do. - Death , Joe Brainard

I Megan I killed my mother on my birthday. But before you judge me, I think I should also tell you that she died giving birth to me. My father decided to disown me before I came into this world. I figured it was because he was a scumbag. (Apologise me for cursing my biological father who is a scumbag). I haven’t seen either of my parents, not even in a picture since my tenth birthday because I burnt the frayed one I had out of exasperation. Plugging out the candle wedged into a day-old cupcake, throwing it into the dustbin as the purple frosting stained my hand, not blowing out the flame and making a wish, tears blurring my vision and then fire and ash. That was the last birthday I spent wishing my parents would come back. My life changed after that; for good. I was taken in by Mr and Mrs Ontario Dsouza when I was two-years-old. They were Christians and my foster parents. When they found out that

●3●

I TOLD YOU I HAVE A HEART

they would never be able to conceive, they were devastated. They tuned themselves out of the world and shifted to Elmingdale to start a new life. Mrs. Ontario called what had happened a “blessing in disguise” because now she had six children she had grown to love and Mr. Ontario found his happiness in hers. Now, even though they received a cheque from the authorities to look after me , they didn’t do it for the money. They were one of those people who believed that progeny was God- gifted. They were saintly people except when they fought, then you’d probably hear them say stuff that Jesus would most definitely not appreciate. Today the sky looked like a toddler had crayoned it. You could see the orange, the yellow and the red unfurl like a blanket covering the horizon. But I looked at it not because it was pretty but because I had nothing else to do. As a foster child I spent most of my time cycling around the pretentious streets of Elmingdale and drinking lemonade from Marla’s diner. ( It was the best feature of the town after the wall on which someone had graffitied ‘GET YOUR SH*T TOGETHER’ ). The town council was inefficient which explained why this beautiful work of art still remained alive. People had learnt to accept and find happiness in the little things like the annual fair, the sale at the thrift store, the occasional rave parties, and sometimes the picturesque sky. And me, I saw them trying to comfort themselves

●4●

SAVNI MAHESHWARI

everyday …knowing that at the end of the day their lives were quite insignificant just like mine. It was 8:00 PM and I decided to go to the supermarket and get a list of things Mrs. Ontario had scribbled shabbily onto a piece of yellow paper that was torn from my little brother’s school workbook. Scouring through the aisles to find a carton of eggs and dishwashing soap wasn’t fun, but then I saw Mr. Peter. Mr. Peter was awesome. The first time I met him was about two years ago. I was interviewing people who had retired from their jobs for my community project and he was the only one who had offered me a cookie and answered each of my questions with utter interest. On seeing him, I decided to initiate a conversation. “ Hi Mr. Peter! Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked him. In the beginning he looked at me like he’d never seen me before, but then he squinched his eyes and I saw a smile light up his face as he recognised me. “Hi Megan! I was just looking for a packet of aftershave.”, he replied. We spoke for quite some time after that and he told me that it was his 65th wedding anniversary today. He also told me how he met his wife, how he worked for the navy and I reminded him to purchase the aftershave before he left. Mr. Peter was as much as a great narrator as the life he had lived was. Sometimes I found it hard to believe that this man with wrinkles on his face and a limp in his leg had once lived a life so adventurous and thrilling.

●5●