Silence had once been a refuge.Now it was a labyrinth.
And Rekha…Rekha was lost inside it.
She no longer spoke to anyone.
She didn't need to.
Her body spoke in moans, shivers, gushes of heat, and trembling thighs.Every orgasm was a language.Every sigh a sentence.
But no one truly understood it.
Not anymore.
The man hadn't returned.Not the one from the hallway.Not Beloved.
But his absence —it had become a character of its own.
Rekha wandered the corridors of 302A like a phantom.Naked.Unwashed.Untamed.
She didn't call the Sabha.They came anyway.
Always.
Drawn by the myth of her.
One morning, Seema entered and found Rekha curled up on the altar bed.Her thighs stained red, lips cracked, eyes wild with sleeplessness.
She looked…holy.
And completely mad.
"Rekha," Seema whispered, kneeling beside her.
Rekha's head lifted slowly.
She blinked.
And then… she smiled.
Not with affection.Not with warmth.
With knowledge.
Like she'd seen something no one else had.
Seema placed her palm on Rekha's cheek.
It was burning.
"Talk to me," Seema whispered. "Say anything."
Rekha didn't.
Instead, she slid her fingers down to her cunt —still wet, still pulsing —and traced her inner lips slowly.
Then, using the same fingers, she wrote across Seema's chest:
"He is inside me."
Seema shivered.
And she knew.
Rekha wasn't speaking in metaphor.
Later that night, Rekha stood at the center of the main room, her body covered in a thin veil of sweat.
The women gathered.
A dozen now.
More than ever before.
Each one silent.
Each one watching.
Rekha raised her arms.
And without speaking, she began the ritual.
This one was new.
She hadn't planned it.
But it came to her, as if whispered by Beloved from the depths of her cunt.
She lay flat on the cold floor.Arms out.Legs wide.
Then she gestured.
Four women crawled forward.
One to each limb.
They gripped her —Not hard.Not gentle.
But firm.Like they were holding her down for someone else.
Then came the fifth —Padma.
The youngest.
Inexperienced.
Eager.
She crawled forward with wide eyes and trembling fingers.
Rekha pointed at her own cunt.
Then at Padma's mouth.
Padma hesitated.She looked around.
Then back at Rekha.
The room held its breath.
Rekha nodded.
And Padma lowered herself.
Her tongue was soft.Shy.Unsure.
But as soon as it touched, Rekha arched —a full-body tremor.
And then…she screamed.
The sound ripped through the room.Raw.Animal.Not of this world.
The women gasped.
Some cried.
Some began to touch themselves, silently.
But Rekha was gone.
Eyes rolled back.
Mouth open.
Her body moved like it was being fucked by a ghost.
She screamed again — louder.
And then another voice echoed back.
But no one had spoken.
Except it wasn't a voice.
It was a moan.Deep.Male.Ragged.
From nowhere.
From everywhere.
Rekha climaxed hard, squirting across Padma's face.
She convulsed.
Collapsed.
And whispered, barely audible:
"He's not outside anymore."
The women stared in horror.And awe.
Because in that moment, they understood.
Rekha wasn't being possessed.
She was being rewritten.
Later that night, Seema cornered her.
Alone.
No ritual.
No followers.
Just the two of them.Under a flickering tubelight.
"You're changing," Seema said."You're not just the Devi anymore. You're…"She hesitated.
"...disappearing."
Rekha looked at her.Eyes wild.Pupils dilated.
She walked forward.Touched Seema's breasts softly.
Then gripped her hair.Pulled her close.
Whispered into her ear:
"I'm not disappearing.I'm becoming the silence itself."
And then she kissed her.Hard.Rough.
A kiss that tasted like loss, longing, lust, and fear.
Seema gasped, "He's breaking you."
Rekha's voice dropped to a growl.
"No.He's building me."
And then, she shoved Seema to the floor.
Climbed on top of her.
And rode her thigh until she came.
Screaming.
Weeping.
Laughing.
Not once did she blink.
By dawn, she sat in the center of the flat.
Alone.
Covered in dried sweat, blood, and tears.
She was still.Unmoving.
Eyes open.
Waiting.
The women didn't come that day.
Not one.
But he did.
The man from the dark.
The watcher.
He entered.
Closed the door.
And without a word, he laid beside her.
Not touching.
Just breathing.
And Rekha smiled.
Because she no longer needed to see him.
He was inside her now.
And she…
She was no longer Rekha.
She was the altar.