THE MASKED DEVIL

Author's POV:

(Somewhere in Mumbai)

He became a killer when his mother died during childbirth. She'd been in labour for over nineteen hours. The many attempts to spit him out into the world tortured her body. But he'd resisted, refusing to make that crucial journey out of her womb, almost as if he knew the world would be cruel to him.

When he finally emerged from his mother's womb, everyone warned his father that he was a bad omen. Regardless, his father adored him. They both were the perfect father-son duo until his father surprised him with a new mother for his fifth birthday. His father married another woman, thinking that his son would now get some motherly love from the kind woman.

At home, however, the boy was experiencing the polar opposite: when his father was away on business, the little boy saw his new mother with her various lovers. When she realised the boy was silently watching everything, the cunning woman played it smart. She began lying about the boy stealing money and calling her names. She complained to his father about how the boy insulted her in front of others, which was never true.

His father believed the new young wife because he couldn't fathom the thought that his adult wife would be lying to him and began beating the little boy to tame him. The little boy would cry and plead, but his father wouldn't show any mercy to him.

Four terribly long years passed. The torture went from occasional to routine. But there came a point where he couldn't take the pain any longer. So, he decided to escape. He took the little money his father had in a small case in their house and went to the nearby railway station.

From Solapur, he reached Mumbai, the city of stumbling people. The new city and its culture amazed him to a great extent. He would often stare at families that passed by him and wonder to himself. Some of them had children who threw tantrums when they didn't get what they wanted. The boy wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was funny how people took their parents for granted; there were children in the world with no parents.

He roamed around, enjoying his newfound freedom. What he didn't know was the city of dreams had only nightmares in store for him.

He was ten years old when he met the devil for the first time. An old beggar kidnapped him. He molested him and left him to die on a lonely street at night. Miraculously, the boy survived. He didn't realise what had happened to him until he grew up. At that point, all he remembered was the blinding pain that had surrounded his abdominal region. He didn't realise that the pages of his fate had worse things written for him.

He grew up in the streets, collecting plastic and garbage, and ate whatever he could get his hands on. He did not know what he was going to do with his life until he ran into the devil again on a lonely night. He had his first sexual experience at fifteen, when he was strangling the old beggar as revenge for taking away his innocence.

The old beggar had struggled, attempting to break free from his unyielding grip. Seeing the old man's struggle, he felt a strange but pleasant sensation. As he sank deeper and deeper into the throes of ecstasy, his mind shut down. The fact that the old man's body had no life left in it didn't matter to him; he was too busy enjoying the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't until he was completely spent that he realised the old beggar's eyes had turned within his skull and all he could see were the whites. He knew what he had done, but when he searched for guilt or pain inside of him, all he felt was satisfaction. He wasn't ready to let go of the feeling, so he decided to make the best of it.

The young boy boarded the next train to Solapur to meet his lovely stepmother. The next morning, he arrived at his destination and waited until the sky turned dark.

The much-awaited night fell and he made his way to the building that had once been his home. But now that he thought of it, the home was a foreign thing to him. He didn't even know what he could call home. His home had once been his father, but now? Nothing.

He sneaked in and overheard his stepmother moaning out a name that wasn't his father's. 'She is still the same,' he thought bitterly. It triggered him even more. She ruined his life.

He waited for her lover to leave, and when he was sure that his path was clear, he tiptoed to her room. Using a cable wire, he grabbed her throat from behind. His eyes red with fury. He chocked her until her eyes were devoid of any soul.

The pleasure he felt was a lot more than what he was expecting. He unzipped himself and released the growing bulge in his pants. Within seconds, he was running his hands over himself while looking at his dead stepmother's terrified eyes. Soon, he was done and this orgasm was unlike the one he had the day before.

Before leaving, he set fire to the house to destroy all the evidence. Despite having spent most his life in slums, he was intelligent. He didn't bother waiting to see his father's reaction because he knew his father was still a fool. He would sit and weep over the death of his unfaithful second wife.

While going back to Mumbai he thought about his mother. There didn't go a day when he didn't think about his mother, the one who others claimed was killed by him. If she had been alive, his life would have been completely different. He knew she wouldn't be pleased if she knew about his nature, so he put a full-stop on his desires. Little did he know it was just the start of something much bigger that would affect many people's lives.

He was twenty-one when he began working as a salesman for a low-cost clothing company. He smoothly controlled his rage and strange urges to go straight, to leave his past behind and began a new life in the city. But Mumbai was hard; as hard as a diamond. And like a diamond, it could shine brightly upon you, or cut through you to the bone if you allowed it to. The young man, in his naïve attempt to step away from his past, let his guard down and allowed one of Mumbai's sharp tentacles to sting him. Bewildered, the young man then reacted in a manner that a scorpion would when challenged to battle, that was to sting his adversary back with equal, venomous fury.

The afternoon was the time when salesmen would visit housing societies and try to sell their wares to ordinary housewives. On a Saturday afternoon, he, like others, made his way to a housing colony but the housewife he met was not like the others. She She tried to get him to bed, which reminded him of his stepmother who used to cheat on his father, and it triggered his repressed urges. He couldn't stop himself from killing the slutty housewife with his bare hands. While performing his skilled work, he had another earth-shattering orgasm.

After murdering her, he removed all traces of evidence and stuffed her body into a plastic bag. He had the housewife vanish rather than make it look like a botched robbery. As a result, he stole all the house's valuables. He was fortunate to discover two lakh rupees in cash and some gold bangles tucked away in the cupboard's corner. He waited until late at night till the night-duty watchman had gone to sleep and then walked out of the building unnoticed, carrying the heavy plastic bag over his shoulder.

He disposed of the body and walked away with the plastic bag, which still contained something. Something which would remind him about his first prey.

The next morning, a rag picker noticed someone floating in the dirty drainage river. When he looked at it closely, his breathing became ragged, and he let out a terrified scream. It was the headless body of a woman dressed in a household gown.

The missing woman's husband returned home after two days after his business trip. He was worried to death because his wife had not been returning his calls and no one knew where she was. He broke open the front door with the help of the local police and discovered that everything else was in order, except for the cash and jewellery in the cupboard, which had gone missing along with his wife.

The police investigated and, much to the husband's surprise, discovered that the wife had a reputation for sleeping around. The finger of suspicion was now pointed at the husband, but because he had a solid alibi and there didn't appear to be any sign of struggle or wrongdoing, the overburdening investigating officers quickly concluded that the housewife had fled the city with one of her many lovers. The bereaved husband accepted this conclusion and moved on with his life.

The body of the headless woman was never identified, and it became one of the many unsolved cases.

Only to be solved later when Mumbai was shaking in fear.

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Author's POV:

It was sweltering hot in Mumbai but the woman was dressed to cover her from head to toe. She was hurriedly walking towards the shady bus stop. Sweat rolled down her forehead and her heart was beating out of her chest. She was well aware that there were road punks following her.

"Hello, darling," a man said. "Would you like us to drop you somewhere?"

She ignored them and kept her gaze down as she walked to the bus stop.

"What's your name, sweety?" One of them inquired. She didn't bother to respond and kept walking in long strides. Suddenly, one man grabbed her wrist and said, "We're talking to you. Look at us when we're talking."

She tried to wiggle free from his grip, but he was too strong for her. He tightened his grip, twisting her wrist slightly. She sucked in a painful breath and stared at them, fearful.

"Please leave me alone," she whimpered. Begging, she realized, was her only chance right now. She obviously couldn't just stand there waiting for a miracle.

"Give us a few hours of your time. Then we'll leave you." They smiled wickedly at her. She took a look around at the other people. They were preoccupied with their own lives, acting oblivious to what was going on around them. She pleaded for help. People avoided making eye contact with her and continued to ignore her.

"Even if you are married or have a boyfriend, you must choose one of us as your lover. Or maybe all of us." They laughed together. She tried to move away from them, but the men grew bolder and tried to pull her clothes off while laughing at her helplessness. Swatting all their hands away wasn't working. Adrenaline rushed through her body and instead of confusing her, it made her think faster. She summoned all her strength and pushed them away and dashed away from the bus stop, down a lonely street, unsure of where she was going.

"Don't run, beautiful. We're sure you want it."

She ran with a gut-wrenching scream. People turned to see her being pursued by a group of men, but they carried on their way not wanting to get in trouble themselves. She soon realised she was now on a lonely street. Her eyes widened in sheer shock and panic.

"What a moron to run towards an abandoned street!"

"Who cares about her stupidity? I'm sure she's got a fucking hot body under those clothes." The men burst out laughing once more. That comment frightened and angered her all at once.

She ran into an old structure. It was the backside of a shop where no one was around. She whipped around and gave the men a frightened look.

As they followed her inside, one of them said, "Perfect place to have fun with her. She is laying up trouble for herself."

She was truly trapped with nowhere to turn. The men didn't even have to chase her around the place because it was so small. When the men approached her with a lustful expression on their faces, her fearful expression changed.

A smug smile spread across her face. "Oh, yeah. I'm going to have a lot of fun," she said, pulling out the long, thick stick that was strapped between her layers of clothing. "A lot of fun," she said again.

The group of men's agonising cries filled the air, along with the sounds of thick sticks and boots slamming into their flesh.

"We are sorry! Please let us go!" The men sobbed incessantly.

"Didn't I just say that a few moments ago? But what did you people do?" She asked. She and her backup, which included two policemen and two policewomen, hit the would-be rapists repeatedly. "You guys have to keep your word. The good times have only just begun. You're not going to swindle me out of it, are you?" She inquired.

"No, don't," yelled a punk as he attempted to dodge a blow from a thick stick. "We had no idea you were a cop."

She dragged the man up by his collar. "So, if I wasn't a cop, I was fair game, wasn't I?" She asked.

"Please accept my apologies. I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I didn't want to do it. My friends compelled me to participate."

The aforementioned friends gave him a sidelong glance. "Don't lie. He was the one who noticed you first and suggested we follow."

"So you want to play the blame game now?" she asked while beating the crap out of the punks.

The men burst into desperate tears. "Please. We are sorry. We will not bother anyone else again. We will treat all women as if they were our sisters and mothers."

She scoffed and pushed the punk to the ground, pressing her foot firmly against his neck. "These boys enjoy having a good time. So show them some more fun, and then drag them into the crowd to show everyone what happens to obnoxious punks who harass or assault women. Then throw them in the nearest jail," she said.

"Yes, ma'am!" the policewoman replied. The policewomen were dressed in constable uniforms and the men could tell by the way they talked that they were in big trouble this time.

She walked away from the scene as the other constables continued their beatings. She had instructed her backup the day before to have this incident covered in the media without using her name. The last thing she wanted was news of an undercover cop thrashing some road thugs. If this became public, an investigation would be launched, in addition to the human rights association's charges. What she didn't understand was how a group of people could defend rapists and molesters in the name of human rights. They had no right to exist. They should be assassinated most brutally. Instead, they were put in jail and provided with food and rest twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

She received a complaint a few days ago from some college girls in this neighbourhood about the hazards that a group of men was causing in their neighbourhood. They even told her that the local police had never taken any serious action on this. She had assisted them.

She was about to drive away in her SUV when she noticed the bus stop and other bystanders who did nothing to help her when those jerks tried to molest her in front of them. She took a step towards them, glaring as she passed by each one. No one dared to look her in the eyes. In shame, they kept their gaze lowered.

She came to a halt in front of them. "The next time I see or hear that as bystanders, none of you helped a helpless girl and simply stood passively while a crime was being committed, I'll personally arrest you all."

She walked away, towards her SUV, without waiting to see their reactions to her genuine threat.

She arrived at her house and rushed upstairs for a quick shower. She needed to be at the station today because it was a weekday.

It was the peak of summer, and the weather was ferocious. She quickly removed the suffocating layer of clothing and stepped into the cool, refreshing water but the water did little to soothe her aching mind after the day's events.

She had purposely dressed in low-cost clothing. However, the clothes served as ideal bait for the perverts. The low-life vultures assumed that women wearing such modest clothing came from poor families and would not make a fuss or fight back. They regarded them as easy prey.

She wished she could stay under the water for longer, but she needed to get ready. She quickly put on her uniform and nameplate. Priya Mehra's name was emblazoned on it. She stepped out and locked the door, taking her police cap and purse, as well as her SUV keys.

She arrived at the station and went straight to her office only to find something on her desk.

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Third person's POV:

I witnessed her thrashing those men. She still thought she was superior to us, the men. It made my eyes redder with unabated fury and the tick in my jaw became almost permanent. That was the thing I loathed about her. Who gave her the power to treat a group of men as if they were nothing? I need to teach her a lesson soon. She deserved every bad thing coming her way.

I should put her in her place as soon as possible.

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Priya's POV:

I was at the police station. It was an old British building that had been converted into a police station after India gained its independence. That was where I worked, I was an IPS officer. I had no desire to be one but it was my father's dream. When my application to Harvard University was accepted, I was on cloud nine. But the moment I saw my father's expression, I knew he wasn't happy with my decision. And I could never disappoint my father.

The following day, I completed the application form for the civil service examinations. I informed my mother that I had cancelled my plans to go to the United States and would join the Indian Police Service instead. My mother was disappointed. However, my father was overjoyed, and that meant a lot to me. I buried my nose in my books and passed the UPSC exam on my first try two years later at the age of twenty-one. After three years of training, I graduated as an outstanding young officer.

As of the present, I was discussing a serious problem with my best friend.

"I think you should give him a chance, Priya. He's been after you for a long time. I don't think it's just a crush, and he's so hot for a thirty-year-old," Kashi said. She was referring to that annoying brat, but she was correct; he was hot and had a clean image, no scandals. Despite that, I didn't want anything to do with him.

'Or do you?' a little voice in my head said. I scowled at myself and shut the thought down as quickly as it had come.

"Kashi, you are well aware that I am not interested in sappy romance," I replied, gazing at the lovely flowers arranged on my desk in my office room. I had seen this when I'd walked up to my office.

As was customary, the flowers were accompanied by a note that read, Good morning, darling, I hope your day is as lovely as you are.

I despised his cheesy lines.

'Liar. You like his cheesy lines.'

I'd said a million times before that I wasn't interested in him. I had even threatened to arrest him if he continued with his obnoxious behaviour. But I don't think he understood. He was still doing his job, which included sending me exotic flowers every day, some of which I had no idea existed. Ugh! It was extremely vexing. Despite my many curses, he continued to pursue me.

'But you wanted him to continue,' replied my conscience.

"Hello? Are you there?" Kashi's irritated voice brought me back to the present.

"I was just a little lost for a while, Kashi. Okay, I'll call you later. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind today," I replied, gritting my teeth and hanging up before she could respond, knowing she was going to ask me to give him a chance. What did he do to impress my best friend? This thing was getting crazier by the minute. I had to stop it.

Taking a huge breath, I told myself to get this over with. I dialled his number, and he answered in a matter of seconds.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said, his voice deep and intense.

Was he aware I was going to call? Ridiculous. And why sweetheart?!

'But didn't it sound hot?' my conscience asked. Whatever.

"I've already told you that I'm not interested in you, Mr. Singhania. PLEASE STOP DISTURBING ME!" I yelled or maybe tried to yell.

"Hey, Priya. Calm down. At least, give me a chance to express my feelings. I've never felt this way about a woman before. This is different to me. Give me a chance. I will show it to you," he begged. Express his feelings? Hadn't the millions of flowers he sent every day been doing that? What more he had in mind?

"As you know, Mr. Singhania, I'm not interested in this. I know a lot of girls who would do anything to go out with you but I am not one of them. Please understand!" Why couldn't he put a stop to this nonsense? I was on the verge of begging just to get him to stop this ridiculous teenager-like behaviour.

"That is why I like you; you aren't greedy like the women I have dated before. They were gold-diggers, but you are not like them. This makes me determined to pursue you until you give me a chance," he responded. His final words were spoken in hushed tones, but I could still hear them.

"Listen, all I need is for you to spend some time with me. How about dinner? After that, if you still don't think we're a good match, I won't bother you again. Take this as a promise, but you must first have dinner with me."

His offer was reasonable: at the very least, he would stop his lunacy.

'Lunacy? Really? You don't find it lunacy for sure.'

'On whose side are you?' I asked my conscience inside my head. I sighed heavily.

"I will think about it, Mr. Singhania," I replied, still undecided about accepting his offer. But deep inside I was excited to see what he would do.

"Please stop addressing me as Mr. Singhania; it makes me feel old and I'm not old. Come on, you can call me Neil." I could hear a hint of excitement in his voice. I had the impression that he was still a desperate teenager sometimes. Nevertheless, I still had to ponder this.

"I'll think about it. I'm very busy right now. Bye." I said sharply. "Neil," I hesitantly added before hanging up abruptly.

I was about to take the next case file from the bundle on my table after finishing the call when the door to my office burst open, revealing an unpredictable face.

"Why did you do that, Mehra? You already knew I was interested in that case. It was nearly over! Why did you agree to take it when the commissioner asked you to? You're such a bitch, I swear." Arjun snarled.

He was handsome despite being in uniform. He was tall, with curly brunette hair and brown eyes that were almost as distracting as his well-built body, which was far too good for his 29 years of age. His hawkish nose and defined cheekbones only added to his attractiveness. It's no surprise that all those college girls were milling around in front of our station. But his good looks weren't enough to distract me from his unnerving audacity, which only irritated me. And did the idiot just refer to me as a bitch? I felt my anger rising to dangerous levels a second time today.

"You have no right to call me that! You should have fought harder if you wanted the case," I snapped. "It was your fault that you were unable to show the commissioner your progress, and I saw no reason to deny the case. Besides, Mr. Arjun Nair, did you forget your words and the challenge you threw my way when we first met?" I retorted, rage coursing through my veins.

I remembered our first meeting outside the commissioner's office. I thought we were going to be great friends, but the man in front of me was the most arrogant and rudest person I had ever met. I reflected on his response to my greeting five years ago.

Outside the commissioner's office 5 years ago:

"Don't think you'll get away with it easily, Ms. Priya Mehra. I never imagined my competitor would be such a wimp. What a shame," he had remarked mockingly.

"Don't you think it's too soon to draw conclusions, Mr. Nair? I promise you that you will soon change your mind about me." And with that, I stormed into my office in rage and a twinge of hurt in my chest.

Present:

"Are you not going to say anything?" Arjun inquired, clearly enraged. The commissioner handed me the case he had been working on for a month with no progress, so his rage was understandable. I would react similarly if one of my cases was handed over to someone else. But it was an exaggerated reaction because, as I previously stated, he hadn't been making any progress at all, so it was something he deserved. I was secretly enjoying flashing him the fact that I received a case which he had failed to solve.

"Look, Arjun, I don't have time for this. I'm very busy right now. If you have any problems, please talk with the commissioner," I said, irritated and annoyed with him at this point.

I stood up to leave, ready to conduct fieldwork for a high-profile homicide investigation.

"I know you're very busy, especially with that wealthy brat of yours that you keep on your leash," he smirked. My temper flared. I wanted to break his nose right then and there, but I restrained myself. How dare he drag my personal life into this?

"Get out of my office right now," I said, my voice held a warning. I swear this was the last fucking straw.

"What is it that makes you so angry? I simply told you what I heard this morning. You better stop if you don't want to be a gossip topic." He sounded genuinely concerned, but I knew him better.

"I don't have to prove anything to you or anyone else. Now get the hell away from me!" I walked out of the office.

What a fantastic morning, I bitterly thought to myself.

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Third person's POV:

She left the station with a frown. Annoyance and irritation were stamped on her face. She was in a bad mood. I cracked a grin. I was satisfied with anything that made her uncomfortable or angry. She deserved pain, not happiness.

'I'm going to ruin your life, Priya. Soon'

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