Prologue

Does addiction shatter families? Undoubtedly, yes. But sometimes, it's your family that shatters you first, leading you towards addictions.

When your loved ones shatter your heart, you will be left with only two choices to carry on your life. One, accept the reality. Two, escape the reality.

Some choose the first choice. But people like me often go with the second and final choice.

Perhaps, when you are cursed to feel your first ever heartbreak from your own family, from the very people who are supposed to love you the most, gaining yourself back again or accepting it would become almost impossible. You would be scared to gather yourself back, only to be shattered again. You wouldn't be able to accept and forgive whatever your family did to you, either.

You would just walk away with hatred for your own family, and no emotions for the rest of the world. You would numb yourself, not because you wanted to, but because it's the only way so that no one else can hurt you again.

You would lose faith in love and trust. You would fear emotional attachments. You would no longer feel to have a lovely bond in your life. You would choose to isolate yourself from the world. Isolation would feel safer than connections, especially emotional connections. There would be only emptiness in and around you. Hatred in your mind, for your own family would consume you even more, leaving you at the core of emptiness. You would choose to fill that emptiness with the things you know.

Some people choose to fill their emptiness with healthy escapes like reading, writing, career passions, etc... Healthy escapes often lead to eventual self-healing. They would at least learn the art of living with scars with time.

But what about the people who have no one to care for, who find no point in healing? They choose destructive escapes which leads to eventual self- destruction. I was one of them.

I let myself into the places that people would find it wrong. I did the things that people would find disgusting. But it was not a matter to me when I didn't bother people's opinions. I just choose the ways in which I could find solace for my emotional loneliness and physical desires without expectations, without hurts, without pains, without the risk of emotional attachments. I didn't find anything wrong in it on those days as I had no one in my life, I didn't want to have any genuine bonds in this birth either and I was hurting no one with the choices I made for myself. At least to my knowledge.

I stumbled out of the bar, the whiskey in my veins blurring my senses. My foot barely touched the ground and the world around me felt tilting and swaying. The neon lights bled into the darkness, stretching into streaks of colors, while the ear-eating honks of vehicles felt like a distant echo from a tunnel.

I dragged myself down the street, blinking my hazy eyes around in search of the sex worker. The procurer told me her name. But I forgot it as always. He also said she would be waiting outside my usual bar, wearing a dark brown dress. I remembered those, but colours blended into one another in my clouded mind.

My eyes were unable to focus, but a woman approached me, and asked in a flirting tone, "Shall we go, my sweetheart?"

I blinked to focus on her face, slurring, "You....are you that.... woman, the procurer.....se....nt?"

She replied, holding my hand, leading me towards an auto, "Yes. Let's go."

"My....my two-wheeler," I slurred, my legs moving with her.

"Can you even ride your two-wheeler now?" She laughed as if I cracked a joke and made me get into an auto. "Take your two-wheeler tomorrow." she said, getting inside the auto.

I responded with a nod as she was right.

The auto moved through the busy roads of Chennai, and reached the nearby red light area within five minutes.

As the vehicle came to a halt in a narrow street, where I could see the blurred images of men and women who were engaged in chats and some women leaning against the doorways, wearing short dresses, scanning the streets for customers.

The woman who was with me said, "Pay for the auto and get off." She stepped out of the auto casually.

I pulled out my wallet from my pants pocket, paid for the auto and got off, my legs stumbling slightly. I steadied myself against the auto for a moment and then dragged myself near her, my eyes squinting to focus on her. But I could only find her blurred image in the street lights.

Anyway, did her look even matter? I was not there in search of beauty in or out. I was there in search of fleeting pleasure. She would give it despite her facial look.

As I reached near her, she wrapped her hand around my shoulder, leading me inside, smirking playfully, "What are you looking at me? Already want to touch me?"

I laughed lightly, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, moving with her inside the hotel. "It...it will be a lie, if I say no. I don't lie about my dirty thoughts. Moreover, what are you even asking? I wouldn't be coming here monthly once or twice, if I don't want to touch some random woman by giving money," I slurred.

She let out a soft chuckle. "You are so straight forward."

"What's there to hide when the truth is clear? You are here for money. And I am here for pleasure," I slurred.

"Hmm, but most men sugarcoat it,"

"Oh. I...I don't know about other men. But I don't waste time on sugar.... coating."

"So you always say the truth?"

I leaned to her shoulder as the alcohol made me unbalanced. "It depends on what you are asking me. If I decided to tell the truth, I would say straight forward. Otherwise, I would hide the truth. But don't ask me anything more. I am not here to answer you,"

"Yes, sweetheart," she replied in a flirting tone, making me sit on the bed as we entered a room by now, and added, running her fingers through my cheek. "I am not here to question you, either."

"Hmm." I murmured, leaning back, pressing one of my palms on the bed, wrapping my other hand around her waist, pulling her closer.

As she fell on my chest, I pressed my lips against her shoulder, my hand around her waist tightening.

She moaned, her fingers gripping my t-shirt. "You don't have any patience. But wait for a minute, sweetheart. Let me have a tablet."

"Tablet? For what?" I slurred, tracing her collarbone with my lips. "To avoid pregnancy? But I have condoms. You will be safe from all the dangers because of this."

"No, sweetheart." She moaned, tilting her head sideways giving me more access to the nape of her neck. "You are the fifth customer today. I have muscles, not iron, right? I feel a little pain in my pelvic area. Let me ease it with medicine so that I can satisfy you for the money you give,"

What?

My lips stopped tracing her, my fingers loosened around her instinctively.

Getting pleasure in her pain was not my motive. I expected a moment of pleasure exchanged for money, without any attachments. But pain was never a part of the transaction between us.

My ideology was just simple - I did everything which felt pleasurable to me, but without hurting, without torturing others. I would drink till my throat. I would see women models in adult magazines, admire them, I would even imagine touching them. But, in reality, I never forced myself on even those sex workers.

I had been visiting the red light area for about two years, but I never forced them for anything in the name of porn fantasies. Just because I paid, I had no rights to force them in which they were not comfortable.

Did that make me a good man? No. I didn't delude myself with such thoughts. I wasn't a savior. I wasn't kind. I wasn't even soft-hearted. It had been almost 12 years since I cried last time. I had no heartily feelings for anyone.

But I knew what it meant to be in pain. From the kind of physical pain etched from your skin that spreads to your soul to the kind of emotional pain that etched from your soul that spread to your skin. I knew every kind of pain. I just didn't want to give even a smaller part of it to others. In any form.

I released her from my arms, laying on my back on the bed, slurring, "Then...you don't do it with pain. You leave from here and take a rest... Just send any other woman who is standing outside."

She laid down near me, sliding her fingers inside my shirt's collar, her tone seductive. "Anyway, if I leave here, they will send me to the other customer. So, let it be. Just a minute. I will just swallow a tablet. I think you forgot me. But this is my second time with you, sweetheart. I already have experience with you three months ago. I can say you were soft with me unlike many other customers that made you unforgettable in my mind. I even remember your name till now. You are Arun, right? I feel comfortable with you. If I leave here now, I don't know how the other customer will be. Let me be with yourself."

Soft? Comfort?

The most insensitive words I have ever heard.

I had no idea what she meant by being soft with her and what made her comfortable with me in the place where the word comfort had no meaning. But I couldn't touch her anymore. I couldn't chase her away from the room, either, knowing she was in pain.

"Then..." I slurred. "Let's... let's just sleep. You take a rest." I removed her hands from me.

"But money...."

"I will give," I slurred, tossing to the other side.

She fell silent for a moment, and then I felt her face pressing against my back, wrapping her arms around me again, but softly as if hugging a baby. Her flirting tone changed into an emotional tone as she said, "You are the only man who is telling me to take a rest. When I met you the previous time, you seemed to be a good man. Now, I am sure of it."

Good man? She was the first one who called me like that which made no sense to me. I was not a good man. But it just meant she met a lot of the worst men out of which I felt good for her. Good out of the worst! Like a little thorn in a field of sharp arrows. Not because it was harmless, but because everything else was sharper and more cruel than the thorn.

Perhaps, for some people, goodness is not about being kind, but about being least cruel in the world that knows only cruelties.

She added, "I guess you are not married unlike many customers I met. When you are not able to hurt myself, you will definitely not hurt your wife. You will be a good husband. Why are you coming here? You can avoid coming here, marry and live happily with your family, right?"

Damn it! Family! I hated that word. That word made my intoxication reduce a little from my system.

I clenched my jaw, removing her hand from me again. "You came here for money, right? Get the money in the morning and leave. Don't give personal advice. I hate it. You said I was soft. But if you speak anymore personal with me, you will no longer call me soft."

"Okay. I get it." Her voice faded away. "Some hurts would give a burning sensation even if the softest wind touches it. I hope you will heal one day. I hope you get a deserved family one day. I wish I don't see you here as a customer again."

Her words like 'hoping' when she herself didn't have a good life felt like joke. I didn't respond. I didn't move even a bit.

But I felt her body moving away and she settled on the other side of the bed.

I closed my eyes, her word 'family' still buzzing in my mind.

Family!

Some people carried it like a shield, a place to return with all the comfort. But for me, it was just a wound that never healed.

I had no reason to believe it would heal one day.

With Love,

Durga Reuban.