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ADITI SHEKHAWAT

Age: Twenty Two

I blinked my eyes slowly, licking my dry lips. The lip balm I put on earlier must've washed away after I drank water and had those bitter medicines. My eyes are pinned to the leaves rolling on the ground because of the cold breeze. The street light falling on it made it shine. Three weeks since I woke up, since I realised that this life is useless—I should have died already. My parents should have let me go then but they didn't. They held on to me as if my pathetic life mattered to them.

My hands clenched around the handle of my wheelchair. It's cold and even though I can feel goosebumps covering my body, I don't want to lift the shawl and wear it that fell on the ground around five minutes ago.