Part : 1
Tittle : Hazel found strange connection to her friend she never realised...
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19 November, 1966
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The air in the basement hung thick and heavy, a cloying mix of dust and something metallic, like old blood. There was a moman, her long, dark hair swinging like a curtain as she moved, gave a final, firm pat to the backs of the two boys huddled beside her. Their faces were pale smudges in the gloom, eyes wide with terror.
She mouthed, "Go! Now!" and they scrambled away, their small figures disappearing into the deeper shadows of the corridor. She watched them for a heartbeat, her own breath catching in her throat. The shirt of the taller boy, she noticed with a pang, was ripped savagely at the shoulder, a testament to their desperate flight.
Then, the sound ripped through the suffocating silence – a brutal, echoing BOOM. The unmistakable, guttural roar of a shotgun. It slammed into her chest like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. Her heart lurched violently. No. It couldn't be. But she knew that sound. It was final.
Irreversible. The two boys… gone. A wave of nausea washed over her, but she fought it down. There was no time for grief, no time to turn back. There was still someone else.
She plunged deeper into the labyrinthine corridors, the rough, damp stone walls scraping against her outstretched hands.
The darkness here was almost absolute, a suffocating blanket that swallowed sound and light. Her ears strained, desperate to pick up any sign of him.
And then, a flicker. A fleeting shadow danced against the far wall, moving with an almost unnatural speed. Another figure was with him, a darker silhouette clinging close. It was him. The man she was searching for. He moved with a frantic urgency, a desperate knowledge of the basement's hidden pathways. He was escaping.
"Hey!" Her voice was a hoarse whisper, swallowed by the oppressive silence. "Wait!"
She couldn't tell if he'd heard her. He didn't falter, didn't even glance back. He simply vanished around a bend, his shadow swallowed by the relentless dark. A cold dread coiled in her stomach. He was leaving. Leaving her.
Suddenly, a sharp, agonizing pain exploded at the back of her head. Stars burst behind her eyes, a blinding kaleidoscope of white and red. The metallic tang in the air intensified, thick and coppery in her mouth. She stumbled forward, her legs suddenly unreliable. They were here. The ones she was running from.
Her fingers instinctively flew to the throbbing spot on her skull. They came away wet and sticky. An iron rod. She could almost feel the cold, brutal weight of it connecting with her bone.
Her vision swam, the dim corridors tilting and blurring like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. The pain was a roaring inferno, consuming her senses. Her brain felt thick and numb, a useless lump inside her skull. She tried to scream, to cry out for help, but the sound wouldn't come. Her throat was constricted, her vocal cords frozen. All that escaped was a pathetic, choked gasp.
The darkness around her deepened, not the natural darkness of the basement, but a thick, suffocating blackness that threatened to swallow her whole. She crumpled to the cold, unforgiving stone floor, the last coherent thought in her fading consciousness a desperate, silent plea.
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17 February, 2025
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"Ay... wake up, Hazel," her mother's voice, warm and familiar, filled the quiet of the room as she gently shook her shoulder. A soft hand brushed strands of dark hair from Hazel's forehead. Groggily, Hazel blinked open her eyes, the morning light filtering through the curtains a hazy gold.
Her mother was already holding a glass of something rich and brown. "Here, drink this. Chocolate milk. It will give you energy." The sweet, comforting taste slid down Hazel's throat, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep. "Now, go on. Get ready. College awaits."
A shower was the next step in shaking off the lingering sleepiness. The warm water cascaded over her, washing away the last fragments of a dream she couldn't quite recall. Stepping out, feeling refreshed, she dressed in her usual college attire.
The college buzzed with the familiar morning energy of Jaipur. As she walked through the gates, a small smile touched Hazel's lips. "Good morning, guys!" she called out to the familiar faces she passed.
Radha, always sharp and quick-witted, caught her eye. "Good morning! You know," Radha said, her voice carrying a hint of playful authority, "I was thinking that you two should sit together. It's always good to have someone intelligent by your side, and Vasu is definitely the one." Radha gave Vasu a knowing nod and a small smile.
Finding an empty desk, Hazel settled in. It happened to be the one Vasu usually occupied. Soon enough, Vasu arrived, a little flustered. "Oh, sorry I'm late," she said, glancing around the already filling classroom. Seeing no other vacant seat nearby, she pulled up a chair and sat next to Hazel at her usual spot.
A comfortable silence settled between them as the lecture began. Later, during a free period, Hazel found herself struggling with a particularly tricky mathematics problem. Vasu, noticing her furrowed brow, leaned over. "Having trouble?" She asked gently.
She patiently explained the concepts, her voice calm and clear. She broke down the complex equations into simpler steps, drawing diagrams in her notebook to illustrate his points. Hazel listened intently, and for the first time, the numbers started to make sense. Vasu had a knack for making even the most daunting subjects seem manageable.
She didn't just give her the answers; she helped her understand the 'why' behind them. As the days turned into weeks, their shared desk became a hub of learning, with Vasu's quiet guidance consistently helping Hazel navigate the often confusing world of mathematics.
The English lecture droned on, the professor's voice a gentle hum in the background. Hazel was trying to focus on the nuances of Romantic poetry, but her mind kept drifting. Suddenly, Vasu, who had been quietly taking notes, leaned closer.
"Hazel," Vasu said softly, her voice carrying a note of hesitant curiosity. "This might sound strange, but... have we met before? Or maybe... have you ever felt like you've seen me before?"
Hazel's pen stilled on the page. The question echoed the very thoughts she had been trying to ignore. There was something about Vasu's calm demeanor, the way her eyes held a certain knowing, that sparked a flicker of something familiar within her. "Honestly," Hazel admitted, her voice barely a whisper, "I've had that feeling too. It's... odd."
Vasu nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful. "It's more than just 'odd' for me. Sometimes... I have these flashes. Like... gunshots. And a feeling of running, of being in danger."
Hazel's breath hitched. Those fragmented images... they weren't unfamiliar. "I... I've had similar things," she confessed, her brow furrowing. "Not exactly memories, but... visions. Dark corridors... a sense of urgency..."
Vasu's eyes widened slightly. "And sometimes... do you see things? Like... a man?"
Hazel's heart began to beat a little faster. "Yes," she breathed. "A man... sitting. It's always the same. On a red cushion throne, with a golden frame. There are red curtains behind him, blocking a window, but the sunlight still shines through. It makes his outline look... powerful, but it's hard to see his face clearly."
Vasu's voice was hushed now, almost reverent. "That's it. Exactly that. I see it too. Sometimes from a distance, like I'm hiding. Other times... it's like I'm closer, but still can't quite make out who he is."
"What do you... what do you feel when you see him?" Hazel asked, a knot of confusion tightening in her stomach.
Vasu hesitated for a moment, her gaze distant. "A sense of... authority. And maybe... fear. Like he's someone important, someone dangerous."
"It's the same for me," Hazel whispered, a shiver running down her spine despite the warm classroom. "And sometimes... there are other things. Whispers of... drugs. And a feeling of... like we're running from something, or someone."
They looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. The shared visions, the inexplicable familiarity... it was more than just a coincidence. A realization dawned on Hazel, slow and unsettling. There was a connection between her and Vasu, a link that stretched beyond their shared mathematics lessons.
Vasu then added another layer to their shared strangeness. "And there's someone else," she said, her voice thoughtful. "In my dreams, I often see a man. I feel... a connection to him. Like he's family. I call him Marcus. He feels like... a brother, maybe from that other time."
Hazel listened intently, a flicker of recognition sparking in the back of her mind at the name "Marcus." It felt like a faint echo, a word she had heard somewhere before, but the context remained elusive. She searched her memory, trying to place it, but it slipped through her mental grasp like sand.
Seeing Hazel's puzzled expression, Vasu continued, "It's just a feeling, you know? A strong sense of kinship whenever I see him in these... visions. Maybe he was my brother in that past life we seem to be remembering."
The conviction in Vasu's voice was compelling. Given their shared experiences with the shadowy figure on the throne and the unsettling atmosphere of their visions, Hazel found herself inclined to believe her. The idea of past lives, once a distant concept, was suddenly feeling very real, very personal.
"Marcus..." Hazel repeated the name softly, testing the sound of it. It still didn't trigger a clear memory, but the faint sense of familiarity lingered. Perhaps, she thought, with time, it would become clearer. For now, in the face of so many shared and inexplicable experiences, accepting Vasu's feeling about Marcus being a past brother seemed like another piece of the puzzle, however strange.
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