Blowing of a Trumpet

With shivering hands, she turned the knob of the door. As she stepped into the room and looked at the room, she felt her breathing getting hitched.

Everything in the room had become the victim of Sikandar Shah's furiousness and rage, slumping on the floor. The dresser table and LED were turned into pieces. Bedsheets and cushions were lying half on the bed and half touching the ground.

The beautiful decoration pieces, which were brought by Sikandar Shah, were also turned the victims of his madness. Sikandar Shah was not in the room.

The legs of Zaniya were badly shivering. With hazel eyes, she looked at the four sides of the room and came to the study room attached to his room.

The condition of his study room was worse than his bedroom. Her eyes saw her son, who was moving back and forth on the revolving chair. Seeing his condition, she shuddered. The fast movement of the chair was speaking out loud about the storm running inside of him.

"S….Sik…. Sikandar…" As she put her shivering