Shubman and His Dirty Secrets - Episode 13

**INT. ABANDONED TEXTILE MILL – CENTRAL DELHI – 5:45 AM**

The single bulb still swings on its rusty chain, slower now, as if exhausted from the night’s horrors. The six fathers have been released an hour ago — driven home in the same discreet cars, warned in calm, terrifying voices never to speak of this night. Their confessions still hang in the damp air like smoke.

The five men remain.

Virat stands at the center, arms crossed, staring at the empty chairs. Hardik leans against a rusted pillar, jaw tight. KL Rahul sits on a crate, head in his hands. Ishan paces slowly. Abhishek sits apart, laptop open, typing notes as if this is just another case.

No one has spoken for twelve minutes.

**ISHAN**  

(voice low, cracking the silence)  

We tortured six kids who didn’t pull the trigger. We beat their fathers who only… used him. And the real killer is still walking free.

Hardik pushes off the pillar. His eyes flick to Abhishek for half a second — a look Ishan catches. They have been running their private investigation for days. Tonight it ends.

**HARDIK**  

(quiet, but steel underneath)  

Not for long.

He pulls out his phone, opens a folder, and slides it across the table to Virat. Rahul and Abhishek lean in.

**VIRAT**  

(reading, brow furrowing)  

What is this?

**HARDIK**  

Phone records. Chat logs. Abhishek was the last person Shubman called that night. 3:42 AM. Right after the fathers left. Shubman was wrecked. Begging for help. Abhishek answered.

Abhishek’s fingers freeze on the keyboard. He looks up slowly.

**ABHISHEK**  

(trying to smile)  

Of course I did. He was my friend. I told him I was coming.

**ISHAN**  

(stepping closer, voice rising)  

You never showed up on any camera. But your car pinged near the villa at 4:10 AM. You brought four men with you. Hired muscle. We traced the payments from your second account.

The mill goes deathly quiet.

Virat’s eyes lift from the phone. The look he gives Abhishek is pure betrayal.

**VIRAT**  

(soft, dangerous)  

Abhishek.

Abhishek closes the laptop. His hands are steady, but his eyes are not.

**ABHISHEK**  

(voice calm at first, then cracking)  

He had everything. The face. The talent. The love. The “golden boy” title. I was always second. Always the quiet one. The one no one noticed. I wanted the world to see him the way I saw him that night — broken, used, ruined. A slut for anyone who wanted him. So they would never call him golden again.

He stands slowly.

**ABHISHEK**  

(continuing, eyes distant, almost proud)  

I called him. He begged me to come. Said the old men had just left him covered in cum, still leaking, still crying. I brought four guys. Paid them well. We walked in. He was on the floor exactly like the boys left him. Naked. Beautiful. I told the guys to film everything. To make sure the world would see the real Shubman if the videos ever leaked.

**FLASHBACK – INT. VASANT VIHAR VILLA – 4:10 AM (THAT FATEFUL NIGHT)**

Shubman lies on the marble floor, naked, body glistening with the six fathers’ cum, bruises blooming on his hips and thighs, eyes half-open, breathing shallow.

Abhishek walks in with four rough-looking men — hired rowdies, tattoos, cold eyes.

**SHUBMAN**  

(weak, broken whisper)  

Abhi… thank God… help me…

Abhishek crouches beside him, strokes his hair almost tenderly.

**ABHISHEK**  

(soft, smiling)  

I’m here, golden boy. I’m going to make sure everyone knows exactly what you are.

The four men descend.

The scene is long, ugly, and merciless.

They take him on the floor first — one after another, then two at once, then all four in a brutal rotation. Shubman is too weak to fight. He cries, he begs, he calls Abhishek’s name. Abhishek films every second on his phone, whispering instructions: “Make it look like he loved it. Smile for the camera, Shubman.”

They move him to the couch, then the glass dining table, bending him over, spreading him wide. The sex is raw, animalistic, degrading — no romance, only power and jealousy. They use him until he is barely conscious, cum dripping from every hole, face and chest painted white.

Finally, in the back of the black SUV on the way to the city outskirts, they take him one last time — all four in the moving car, Shubman barely alive, body limp between them. They fuck him until his breathing slows to nothing. Then, laughing, they cum across his face and chest one final time.

Abhishek watches from the front seat, phone still recording.

One of the rowdies wraps his hands around Shubman’s throat.

**ROWDY**  

(grunting)  

Time to finish the golden boy.

Shubman’s eyes flutter open one last time — looking straight at Abhishek through the rear-view mirror — before the light leaves them.

They dump the body on the roadside at 5:02 AM.

**END FLASHBACK.**

**INT. ABANDONED TEXTILE MILL – PRESENT – 5:58 AM**

Abhishek finishes speaking. The mill is silent except for the distant traffic.

Virat’s face is stone. Hardik’s fists are clenched so tight the knuckles are white. KL Rahul looks physically ill. Ishan’s eyes are wet with pure fury.

**VIRAT**  

(voice shaking with rage)  

You made the world think he was a whore… because you were jealous.

**ISHAN**  

(stepping forward, voice breaking)  

You were supposed to be his friend.

Abhishek doesn’t run. He stands tall, almost defiant.

**ABHISHEK**  

He was never going to be mine. So I made sure he wasn’t anyone’s.

The four men — Virat, Hardik, KL Rahul, Ishan — look at each other. A silent agreement passes between them.

**VIRAT**  

(quiet, final)  

Tie him down.

They do it slowly, methodically. Abhishek is strapped to the same metal chair the teenagers and fathers sat in. No blindfold. No gag. He will feel everything.

The revenge begins.

It is not quick.

It lasts for hours.

They use every tool they prepared in secret over the last two days — the same cable ties, the same lube the boys used, belts, clamps, even a small video camera to record it all “for posterity.”

They strip him naked first, slowly, making him watch.

Then they take turns.

Virat starts — passionate at first, almost loving, the way he used to take Shubman. Then it turns brutal. He fucks Abhishek’s mouth until he gags, then his ass, deep and punishing, whispering every filthy thing Abhishek made Shubman endure.

Hardik is next — wild, animalistic, lifting Abhishek like he weighs nothing, bending him over the table and railing him so hard the table legs scrape the floor. He slaps, spits, chokes — but always with cold precision.

KL Rahul is clinical, almost scientific — using toys, clamps on nipples, a belt around the throat, fucking him in every position while forcing Abhishek to look at photos of Shubman on a tablet.

Ishan is the most emotional — crying and raging at the same time, fucking Abhishek with pure heartbreak, calling him every name Shubman never got to say.

They rotate for what feels like eternity. Double penetration. Triple. They piss on him the way the boys did. They make him beg the way Shubman begged. They film every second.

Abhishek screams. He cries. He apologizes. He begs for mercy.

They give him none.

In the final hour they mirror the car scene exactly — all four of them in the back of one of the vans parked inside the mill, Abhishek limp between them, barely conscious. They fuck him until his breathing slows, exactly the way the rowdies did to Shubman.

Then, as dawn breaks outside, Virat wraps his hands around Abhishek’s throat.

**VIRAT**  

(whispering, tears in his eyes)  

This is for Shubman.

The other three place their hands over Virat’s.

Together, they squeeze.

Abhishek’s eyes lock on theirs one last time — wide, terrified, regretful — before the light fades forever.

They leave his body exactly where they found Shubman’s — on the roadside, naked, covered in cum, arranged to look like a random attack.

The golden boy’s secret is finally buried.

The five men — now four — drive away into the rising sun.

**FINAL MONTAGE**

- Candlelight vigils for Shubman continue across India.  

- The six teenagers and their fathers remain silent forever.  

- Virat, Hardik, KL Rahul, and Ishan stand together on the same mountain overlook at dawn, arms around each other, watching the city wake up.  

- A single text message appears on a burner phone left at the mill: “It’s done.”

**VIRAT** (voiceover, soft)  

The golden boy is finally at peace.

**FADE TO BLACK.**