u/kaiiscurrentlyhere

I'm scared that my dad will sooner or later d*e one day and I don't know what to do when that happens. I'm 22 and he turns 78 this year.

Every time he goes outside on his own, I get so damn anxious thinking something will happen to him. He's a hypertensive patient, had an attack before and can't stand or walk for a few minutes without resting in between, which I know is a part of getting old.

People his age and younger are d*ing daily, I'm scared to think that he could be the next person.

Today evening he went to buy flowers to put on mom's picture as tomorrow is her birthday. And I don't know why, but I just spiraled thinking what if something happens to him. My mind is wired in such a way that it produces the most awful scenarios in my head.

I can't think of living in a world without him. When I was younger, I thought I'd never make it past 18. I was ready to give up on life but things happened that made me drop that plan. I used to live for my mom but now I live for my dad. And if he's not here, I really don't see any point in continuing anymore.

Somedays the feeling that my days with my dad are numbered makes me so so scared. I had nobody then I got my parents, I don't wanna go back to being alone.

The first note appeared three months ago. A discreet piece of paper with only one sentence, "he's always watching"

Safe to say, I was freaked out. I searched the house for any forced entry, hidden cameras. But nothing. I finally chalked it up to a prank by my friends, though they denied it.

The second note appeared three weeks later, "you need to know". I could feel unease creeping over me. Was this some stalker? But there was no signs of anyone forcibly entering in.

So I called my best friend, Mia. She suggested setting up security cameras, which I did with the help of my friends.

There were no notes for over a month. Then, I found the third one. It was attached to the mirror in front of my bed with a sticky note, "check your cameras"

With dread I logged onto the CCTV app. I skipped over to 10pm when I had gone to sleep. Nothing happened for 2 hours. Then I woke and began pacing the floor and began talking to the air? I was acting like I was arguing with someone.

Suddenly, I went still for a few seconds. Then, I was running around frantic, looking for something. I took the sticky note and wrote something in it and attached it to the mirror. Then I looked directly at the camera and went to bed.

My hands were trembling as I logged out of the app. That was me. I was writing the notes. What was this? Some kind of sleepwalking? I needed to know more. I spent the whole day looking through the apartment for more notes or clues. Then, I found it. The letter.

I could almost hear a voice say in my head to stop, even before I opened the letter. I knew something was going to change after this.

*"Hey, if you are reading this letter, it means I've finally managed to reach you. My name is Alicia Warner and I'm you. Well, more like you are a part of me, I guess.

I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder when I was 7 years old. Marcus was the first one I became aware of. He's 28 and our protector. He's like an older brother of sorts. I was placed into foster care at 6 when my father murdered my mother and brother. Marcus had been my rock through it all.

Everything was fine until Marcus demanded more control. He was supposed to be my protector, I never thought he'd turn against me. I was the first but he wanted to be the primary host. Hence finally at 15, I decided I didn't want to share my consciousness with him. He didn't like that. It was a constant mental battle between us. Then the accident happened, and somehow he managed to lock me away.

And then you came. Diana Winters. Woke up in the hospital after a drunk driver ran you over with no memories of who you were. Marcus couldn't control you but he always watched you, waiting to gain control.

I was locked up in my own mind for 4 years, slowly gaining strength, slowly fighting him, until I was able to reach out to you.

I need you to find Dr. Marshall Simons. He used to be my psychiatrist. I need you to go to him and show him this letter. Only you can help me with this, Diana."*

I read the letter once, twice, five times. I didn't want to believe it, but something inside me told me it was the truth. I looked up Dr. Simons online, he lives 3 cities away. But if I did go to him, what about me? Do I just cease to exist?

Today, I found another note, in a different hand writing, "don't trust her". I don't know what to do anymore.

So the district collector has been declaring leave for Alappuzha, where I study, since Friday due to heavy rain. But our college dearest doesn't think we should get that leave since we are in our internship semester.

There are students coming from areas at risk of floods because our management seems to think adding up clinical hours is more important than the students' life. Will the management take responsibility if any harm comes to the students, huh?

Even random strangers in the bus are more concerned for my safety rn than our college management.

I guess it's ok to give us a holiday for the world cup but not for heavy rains. What a good college and management.🙂

All I needed now was the perfect heart.

"Maybe fourth time's the charm", she said hopefully.

1982 brought with it a Madras transfer for Hari. He went to Madras away from all the heartbreak. 

Marriage pressure started. Hari's family wanted him to tie the knot in an arranged marriage setup. He was 34, a central government employee. A catch as per then's standards. 

His mother found him a girl, from Ambalapuzha, employed, upto her standards. Reluctantly Hari agreed to marry her, even though he didn't want anyone but Sarasu.

He got married to his first wife on February 8, 1982. They had a daughter together. Hari went back to Madras, his wife, Latha, went to her own home. The two did not see eye-to-eye. 

Latha was the eldest daughter and prioritised her own family and younger sisters over Hari and his family. They were emotionally detached from each other.

By, 1983, Hari and Latha decided to seperate from each other.

Year is 1984.

Hari had been separated from his wife, Latha for 1 year by then. He received a transfer back to Cochin port. There was a ship launch at the port.

Many people came to see it. And among them, was Sarasu with her friend. Hari saw her first. All those buried feelings came rushing to the surface. Their eyes met. He asked to talk with her privately.

Hari confessed about how he'd never been able to love his wife, how they were too different from one another, how they had been separated for 1 year. He cried. She cried. He confessed to still being in love with Sarasu.

Sarasu told him that she still had feelings for him but she was still that same poor village girl. She didn't want to have another heartbreak. She wanted to know if he really was sure about it, if he'd choose her or his family when it came to it.

He cried, saying, listening to his mother had been the greatest mistake. How she should never have let go of her. 

Sarasu decided to give him another chance. Hari started the legal proceedings for his divorce with his first wife. Sarasu and Hari went in dates in Kochi while the proceedings went on.

Hari officially divorced from his first wife in 1986. Thankfully his family didn't also get along with Latha, hence there was no opposition.

After the divorce, he breeched the topic of marrying Sarasu with his family. There still was some opposition from his mother, but this time, he stood firm against them.

And finally, on February 17, 1987, almost ten years after their first meet, Hari married Sarasu.

I've wanted to write down this story for such a long time. It spans over a decade and getting all the details has been kinda difficult. Well, here it goes:

The year is 1977. It's the day before Vishu. My mother (let's call her Sarasu) works as a typist in Ernakulam. My father (Hari) at that time is stationed at the Cochin port.

Sarasu is from a rural village in Kollam. She decides to go home for Vishu and boards a bus from Ernakulam. What she didn't know was that, the seat she had chosen was already reserved by another dude. So this dude comes and asks her to move. Sarasu didn't know about seat reservations back then and a minor argument breaks out between them.

Suddenly a guy intervenes and explains to her that, the seat is already reserved and hence she should get up. He then guides her to an unreserved seat and sits on the seat behind her. The bus departs soon after.

After a while has passed, Sarasu feels a tap on her shoulder. It's the guy from before. He asks her:

"Naatil povano? Evda naad?"

Since she was feeling greatful to him, she decided to answer him.

Her: "Athe. Kollam"

Him: "Njan Alappuzhayil ninnan. Ernakulathano joli?"

Her: "Evde janmabhumide officeil work cheyyuva njan"

Him: "Njan cochin portila work cheyyunath. Ente peru Hari. Ningaludeyo?"

Sarasu was getting irritated that he was asking all this personal questions.

Her: "Sarasu. Enikk thalavedana edukkunu. Njan onn mayangaan pokuva"

The conversation stalled and Sarasu did fall asleep actually. She woke up sometime later. Again, she felt a tap on her shoulder. What did this guy want again, she thought.

She turned around and with a little bit of anger she asked, "Entha?"

Him: "Newspaper vallom kayil indo? Vaayikkan aarun."

She had a newspaper with her which she gave him. Before getting off at his busstop, he gave the newspaper back to her with a smile, "thank you, Sarasu".

He got off at his stop while repeatedly glancing at her. The bus moved forward and Sarasu thought that was it. Little did she know, it was just the beginning.

Vishu came and went. Sarasu got back to Ernakulam for work. It was on a working day the call came. A coworker approached her, telling the someone was asking for Sarasu through a phone call.

Was it some family emergency? Was someone back home hurt? These thoughts were running through her head..

"Hello?" 

"Hello, ith Kollathunn ulla Sarasu aano?", a male voice asked.

"Athe, ara ith? Enth venam?"

"Ith njana Hari. Ann busil vech kande. Enikk ningale onn kaanan pattumo?"

Sarasu cut the call. She was flabbergasted. Why was some random someone calling her office? Truth be told she was also a little scared.

Hari called Sarasu's office routinely. She always rejected him. Finally, after many many such calls, Sarasu agreed to see him.

The day they met, Hari confessed that he had fallen in love with her at first sight and wanted to pursue a future with her. Sarasu was very much reluctant. She was the major breadwinner of their family. 

She told him how she was dirt poor, didn't have anything to her name, how many burdens she carried. Hence she rejected him.

But Hari was too persistent. He showed up for her time and time again and finally, they decided to give it a try.

By the end of 1977, Hari told his parents about Sarasu and how he wanted to marry her. Hence Hari and his family came for the 'Pennukaanal'.

Sarasu hadn't lied when she was dirt poor. They didn't have a proper house, no generational wealth, nothing. She was just the middle child who had toiled her life away for the daily living of her family.

Hari's family was immediately offput. They didn't want to pursue anything further. But Hari was adamant. He tried to change their mind.

Years passed. 1981 came. Stress from Hari's family was too much. Sarasu was already 35 by that time. Hari's mother threatened death if he didn't breakup with her. Sarasu was also tired of this. Finally, they decided to breakup with each other even though they were still in love. Time moved but their hearts stalled.

She never should've put on those red shoes.

So enikk oru maaman ind madhya pradeshil. 2 weeks aayit aalu enne kurich kore anweshikunund enn njangde chittappan korach divasam munne ennod parnj. Enthayalum ithrem enne choikne alle ennum karuthi aalde number njan chittappante kyil ninn vaangi. Inn aan aale onn vilikkan pattiye.

Aadhyam call eduthappo njn manumon aanenn maaman vicharich, bangloreil ollavan penninte shabdathil samsarikuvallenn💔 banglore ollavan alla naatil olla avante moothath aanen paranjappo, choich ente mol aanonn🥹

Eth mol enn choichappo prnj, ente pengalde mol aan, ente swanthm mol aanen😭

Pinne okke naatuvarthamanam choich, njanglde kunjamma pand maram keriyirunna kadha paranj, njngde appuppante koode pull vettan poyath prnj, angne kore kore kadha paranj (ee maaman was very close to my mom and her sisters)

Ennit samsaram ente coursene patti aayi, course enn therum etc etc Ennit ee ettum pottum thiriyatha ennod choikkuva, "maaman, enki molk chekkan nokkatte"🫠🫠Njan parnj enikk kalyanaprayam aayilla, aake 22 vayase ullenn. Appo paraya, "22 okke kalyana prayam aanllo. Enthayalum kalyanam okke aavn 2 varsham okke aavum. Mol para molk engnethe chekkneya vendenn, maaman kondoraam"

Njan prnj enikk ithne patti no abhiprayam enn, ellam njngde achanod choicha mathinn prnj deddyde number koduth.

Ennit maaman choich njan entha MPil chellanje kunjammede okke koode, ini vacationu chellane enokke. Ennit maamide kayil phone okke koduth. Avduthe kore karyangal okke parnj.

Njan vilichenn orupaad santhosham aayi enokke parnj, enikk thank you okke parnjitta aal call vechee🥹🥹

How do you explain to a five-year-old that her entire family was gone?

I wish I'd never looked into old torture techniques

Njangalk ippo 7th semester practical exam nadakuvann. Innale community health nursingnte practical examinu njan oru skill student (helpers basically) ayyit poyitundarunnu

Communityde exam oro veedukalil vechanan nadakkunnath. Oro veetilum poi avduthe aalkarde permission edukkande njangal skillukarde parupadi aan. Me with my friend, L, adhyathe oru vtl chenn

Aa veetile side gate thurann ittekuvarn. Gateinull keriyappo aan njangal shredikkne aa veedine door centeriloode polich ittekuvarn. L ennod parnj, vallo crime scenum aano ini. Onn rand pichakkare pole " chechi" vili. No anakkam.

Athe samayam, appurathe veetilum njngde skill piller keriyarn. Aa veetile chechi petten erangi vannitt njngalod choichu, "ningal engne avde keri"

Me, "gate thorann ittekuvarn, angne keriyatha"

Chechi, "aa veetil aarum illathatha"

Njngal ok ok ennum prnj avdunn erangi. Appozhathekkm njngade ma'am vannarunnu, athond next veed thappi oodi.

Inn enikk practical exam aarn. Exam okke ezhuthi theerthitt njn aa veetile auntyum aayit karyam parnjond irikkuarn.

Aunty, "Ivde aduth oru veetil kallan keri. Police okke cctv check cheyyan inn varumenna pranje"

Me, " kallano? Ivde kallante shalyam okke indo?"

Aunty, "angne shalyam onnum illatheya. Aa edevazhiyillulla veetila kallan keriye. Kathak okke vetti thoranenn. Nursemaar aanu polum adhym ith kande"

Me, "nursemaaro? Ith matte aa post office pole irikkunna veed aano? Aa kettathile veed?"

Aunty, " ath thanne. Aa veetkar trivandrum aan. Vallapozhm nikkan varuneya. Engne manasilayii aa veed aanen"

Me, "aa nurse ille, ath njangala. Innale njnokkeya aa veetil chenn keriye🙂"

Aunty, "ningal aarno? Ivde ellarum kallankerin kand pidiche nursemaar aanena pranje. Njanum aalochich nursemaar enthina veetil chellunenn." *More talk about what was destroyed and stuff*

Police okke avde full angottum ingottum okke nadakunund. Ee moshanathinte kadha aa naatil full parann, koode ath adhyam kanda nurse maarum. Enne thappi ini police okke vero?🥲

Achante vtl poyitt thirich varuvarn. Njngde busstopil erangitt ente kyil vdinte keyum thannit achan oru chaya kudikkan poi.

Road cross cheyth njngde routeil ethiyappzha njn orthe achante koda ente kyil aanallo. Mazhakolum ind. Ath kodkan njn thirich achante eduth poi. Enit road cross cheyyn nikkrn. Aa sidelum oru busstop ind.

Appo aa standnte pore enikum achanum parichayam ulla oru maman varun. Inger njn eve clgin okke varumbo enne kand chirikneya. Ippam angerde nadatha kandappozhe enik entho vashapeshak thonni. He was drunk. And I've had some traumatic experiences with drunk people.

Njn angeru aduth vannapozhe parnj, achan kadayil chaya kudikkan poyekuvann.

Him: Sundarikkutty aayitundallo (this is still making my skin crawl)

Me: Achan aa kadayil ind.

Him: Oru kalyanam okke kazhiknde

Me: No. Enikk onnum venda. Sheri enki.

This man then starts to cross the road, I stay back. He stops in the middle of the road. Vehicles are passing him by.

Him: Enik ponam allel korach samsarikarunn. He babbles something about sundarikutty again.

I wait till he's crossed the road and move further away and cross it. I run till I'm a safe distance away while still looking back.

My head is going wtf,wtf,wtf while my heart hammers away. I make my way onto the road leading to our home.

Then the next bloody thing happens, some random man who I've never ever seen in my life, honks his bike and slows down in front on me, "mole angott vidano?"

Me: Eh?

Him: Angott vidanonn

Me: Venda. Venda. Njn poikollam

Thankfully he went away. I watched him to see if he stopped nearby my house or if he was someone familiar. Nope, he went straight forward, nowhere near where I live.

Cried when I reached home. I hate it. I hate having to feel like this. Things like this are the reason I hate going anywhere alone, why I wear dresses that are too loose on me, why I always have to keep an eye on people around me.