The Drive Into Darkness

Akash Pal slipped his hand into Chitrakshi Sen’s purse with ease, retrieving the keys to her car before she could protest. Without a word, he opened the driver’s side door and slid in, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Chitrakshi hesitated for a second, then walked around the car and took the passenger seat beside him. Her hands rested on her lap, her gaze flickering toward him, searching for a trace of emotion—anger, pain, even betrayal.

But there was nothing.

Not a single twitch of the jaw, not a single flicker of rage in his eyes.

The silence between them stretched, suffocating and thick.

The car purred to life under his hands.

Without looking at her, without a single word, Akash pressed down on the accelerator, the tires rolling onto the empty Sunday roads.

Chitrakshi kept staring at him, waiting, testing.

But he did not react.

She exhaled softly, then shifted her focus elsewhere. Pulling out her phone, she became engrossed in whatever she was scrolling through, just as she always did.

That was when something inside Akash snapped.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. His foot pressed down harder on the accelerator.

And then—

HONK!

The sharp, deafening blare of the car horn shattered the silence.

Again.

HONK! HONK!

The sound echoed through the empty streets, sharp and jarring.

Chitrakshi jerked her head up, startled. “Akash, what—”

But he didn’t stop.

HONK! HONK! HONK!

The horn blared through the deserted roads, though there was no traffic, no pedestrians, nothing. Just them.

Chitrakshi’s fingers curled around the edge of her seat. “Akash, stop it!”

But he wasn’t listening.

His face was impassive, his foot steady on the pedal, his grip unrelenting on the wheel. The car sped forward, cutting through the lifeless streets like a phantom in the night.

Then, without warning—

CRASH!

The car slammed into the rusted iron gates of Gaurav Banerjee’s paper mill.

The impact sent a violent shudder through the vehicle, metal screeching as the old gate swung open with a forceful clang.

Chitrakshi lurched forward, catching herself against the dashboard. Her breath came in quick, sharp gasps as she turned to him, her voice a mix of anger and alarm.

“Akash! Are you okay?!”

He didn’t answer.

He simply threw the car into park, yanked the keys from the ignition, and stepped out.

Before she could react, his hand shot out, fingers curling around her wrist.

“Come.”

His voice was low, firm.

Without giving her a chance to resist, he pulled her out of the car, his grip unyielding.

The night air was heavy with the scent of damp paper and wood pulp. The factory loomed before them, dark and silent. Not a single worker in sight. No whirring machines, no voices. Just an abandoned space, swallowed by stillness.

And they were alone.

Akash pushed open the factory doors, leading her inside with determined steps.

The office room of Gaurav Banerjee stood at the far end, its glass panels reflecting the dim moonlight seeping in through broken windows.

With one final step, Akash pushed open the door and led her in.

The room was empty.

Just the two of them.

Chitrakshi swallowed, her heart pounding.

For the first time that night—she was afraid.

A Night of No Return

The factory stood silent, the stale scent of wood pulp and damp paper lingering in the air. The dim light from the lone bulb above flickered slightly as Akash Pal reached for the switch, bringing the ceiling fan to life. Its slow, rhythmic hum filled the room, mingling with the uneven breaths escaping Chitrakshi Sen’s lips.

She stood before him, draped in the black saree that clung to her curves, her guarded eyes searching his face. But there was something different in the way Akash looked at her tonight—an intensity that felt both familiar and foreign.

Then, without warning, she felt his fingers—light as a whisper—trailing the back of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine as his warm breath fanned against her skin.

“Akash…” she murmured, her voice hesitant, questioning.

But he said nothing.

Instead, his lips pressed against the soft skin at the base of her neck, slow and deliberate, tracing a path downward with lingering, feverish kisses. Chitrakshi inhaled sharply, her body betraying her mind, melting into the sudden, overwhelming passion.

The black fabric of her saree loosened under his touch.

She barely registered how he undid the pleats, how the delicate fabric pooled at her feet as he lifted her onto the sturdy wooden table in the center of the room. His hands moved over her body with a hunger that was both possessive and desperate, as though he were reclaiming her—owning her.

The warmth of his lips against her skin sent shivers through her, a slow descent into desire. For a moment, for just a fleeting moment, she forgot everything.

Then darkness.

A silk scarf slid over her eyes, blinding her.

She let out a small laugh, breathless and unaware.

“You want to play like this, huh?” she teased, her lips curving into a smirk.

Akash didn’t respond.

The only sound in the room was the faint rustling of paper and the soft whir of the ceiling fan above.

Then—

A sudden, sharp clank.

A machine roared to life, its deep mechanical groan cutting through the still air. Chitrakshi’s ears twitched at the unfamiliar sound, her senses tingling with a sudden, inexplicable unease.

“Akash…?” she whispered.

Her body tensed, but before she could remove the blindfold, she felt his arms wrap around her.

Strong. Firm. Unyielding.

But something was wrong.

“Akash, what are you—”

Before she could finish, the world tilted.

Her body lifted off the table, cradled in his arms. But the embrace was no longer tender—it was forceful. Panic surged through her veins as she felt herself being carried toward something—something she couldn’t see.

Then, before she could even scream—

He hurled her forward.

A sudden, gut-wrenching drop.

The fabric of the blindfold flew off, just in time for her to see it—

The monstrous, gaping mouth of the paper-making machine.

A deafening shriek tore from her lips as her body hit the conveyor belt, her limbs flailing, desperate to grasp onto anything—anything—to pull herself back.

But Akash stood above her, watching.

Unmoving. Unforgiving.

“AKASH! NO! PLEASE—!”

The machine’s metallic teeth lurched forward, grabbing at her, dragging her in.

Her screams sliced through the air, raw and desperate.

Then—

A sickening crunch.

The machine swallowed her whole, the sharp whirring of blades drowning out the final, bloodcurdling echoes of her voice.

Akash stood motionless as the conveyor belt carried her remains deeper into the infernal machine. Flesh, bone, and fabric shredded into nothingness, mixing seamlessly with the damp wooden pulp.

Within moments—she was gone.

Just another raw material.

Another part of the process.

Akash let the machine run, his breathing steady, his expression void of emotion. The room smelled of something different now—a grotesque blend of copper and cellulose.

He moved swiftly, collecting her belongings—the black saree, her mobile, her purse. Not a single sign of hesitation crossed his features as he erased every trace of her presence.

With calculated precision, he exited the factory, locking the doors behind him. The city lights flickered in the distance as he slid back into the driver’s seat of her car.

Then, he drove.

Straight to Bipin Sen’s house.

He let the car linger under the watchful eyes of the security cameras, its unmistakable silhouette a silent testament to Chitrakshi’s return. Then, after a few minutes, he eased the vehicle back onto the road.

His next stop—the mortuary.

The scent of decay clung to the air as he stepped inside, his presence undetected by the lone, disinterested guard who dozed off in the corner.

A fresh corpse awaited him, the body of a woman whose death had already been signed away by the world. Without a moment’s hesitation, he draped Chitrakshi’s black saree over the lifeless figure, disguising it as best as he could.

Then—one final act.