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Sacrilege - Season 1 - Episode 73
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Source: coolval
*****
Tito’s hands batted furiously at the keyboard of her PC. The light from her system shone in her eyes, heightening the pain and the fury in them. It felt good to write. It felt good to channel the pain and anger she was feeling now through her fingers until she had words the semblance of what she was feeling inside all sprawled on her screen. But it would never match. Her pain was too heavy to sit on the fragile screen of her laptop. Tito had always said that writers were the saddest and loneliest people in the world, she always said that the storyline of their lives was nothing like the smooth and interesting ones they tried to portray in their writings and she surely was living the life. Being a fiction writer surely did require a form of miserability.
Her hand shot out and grabbed what was left of her already cold coffee. Tossing it back, it joined the ocean of coffee flowing in her tummy. With a flick of her hand, the cup joined the seven empty cups of coffee on the floor and her hands resumed typing. She had been at it for hours. She really should stop but she didn’t think she would stop anytime soon. Not with the pain in her heart still burning bright red. Her hands ached, her back and her neck were practically at breaking point and she could vividly hear her eyes screaming for sleep. Still, Tito persisted, eyes strained, fingers bumping on keypads.

Sun streaked in from the window of the hotel room she had lodged in a little past midnight, telling her that she had been typing now for more than six hours. Of course, how couldn’t she have figured it out? She and Laura had the same useless method of getting over pain. They thought they could get over it by overworking themselves out of it. She had thought it was a family thing, she couldn’t have been more correct. How was she to know that her father had kept way too many secrets from her?



Writing had initially been a hobby. Something she fell back on to pass the time, then it had transcended into something else… something more intense. It was her anchor. And every time she felt this kind of blinding pain… pain that engulfed her entire senses until it was all she could breathe out, she always fell back to writing. She could switch off from her pain and enter a world of fantasy. A world that held no surprises and impromptu life alterations… a world that was completely under the control of her deft little fingers. In a way, it was like having a diary. But unlike a diary, in writing, every character carried a piece of her, making her into a puzzle, someone who couldn’t easily be understood. How could she find it in her heart to hate Teju? The girl obviously had her share of heartbreaks. Even now, as she wrote ‘Lila’s Betrayal’, she could see her pain in this scene; feel the tension oozing from her fingers.


Her mind went back to the previous night. In her entire life, Tito had never been so shocked. She still could not believe that Mark Johnson did all the things he confessed to, last night. This was her dad. The man she had known all her life. The man who had singlehandedly raised her. He had played the role of her father, her mother and most of all, her confidant. With him, she could never be guarded. She could tell him anything, go with him anywhere and not feel awkward. She had told him immediately she saw her period. It had been embarrassing, Tito had almost wished she had a motherly figure in her life but her dad had made it seem like nothing. He had explained everything she needed to know to her and made her a special meal with more than enough chicken laps to leave her teeth aching for several weeks. She had told him every time she had a crush, told him every time she fell in love. Even times she hadn’t told him things, he had figured them out. She had made mistakes, grievous mistakes like losing her virginity at the age of eighteen to a guy she thought genuinely loved her. She hadn’t been able to forgive herself. Tito had hidden it from her father, but he had found out. She had thought he would never forgive her for neglecting all he had taught her on self-preservation but after the initial disappointment, it was clear that his love was all forgiving. He had forgiven her and loved her unconditionally. He had laughed with her through her achievements, wiped her tears through every heartbreak. Every time her heart was smashed into pieces in the hands of men and she felt small and unsure of herself, always thinking it was all her fault, her father had been her anchor. Even when she had lost faith in love, lost faith in all men, her father was the only encouragement she had. Seeing him showed her that there was still an amazingly priceless man in the world.

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