Lipstick stained cigarette butts
lying on the floor, clad only in a light blue stripped cotton shirt, her feet
crossed across the stool in front of the chair she sat, newspapers stacked on
the table, a dark room with a table lamp lit at her desk….she bore herself into
every article that even remotely related to the accident.
7 months 9 days have passed since that dreadful day and yet she would not yield to the post-mortem results to call it a reckless driving road accident. It killed her inside with guilt and she considered herself responsible for the death of her parents. She wished every possible way that could have prevented it including fearing from the threat calls if not for herself but for them.
The court doors had closed for her. They buried all clues of murder and bought the jury members. She couldn’t do much except to go into seclusion. For the first time in 18 years she shed a tear of guilt, remorse and anger. The most reputed professional and considered the best of her times, her 11 years of career as a freelance reporter proved her worst curse. She never feared for her life and they knew that well. Her hiring agents teamed up against her and identified her weakness.
She rose with grit in her eyes. It never ended here and now it was her turn to avenge their death. After scribbling 9 names on a piece of paper she picked up the phone. It was time to play her set of cards…
