Day 8 (III)

"You have taught me how to hope but not expect, how to love without asking for anything in return, how to forgive but not forget. Everyday with you is a lesson that I look forward to."

...

The pain starts to kick in, making me feel like I'm being poked a thousand times with a needle in my left arm.

I try to take a deep breath but fail, pain shooting through my arm at each heavy inhale I take. Breathing becomes a chore in itself, each breath getting shallower and shallower.

I clutch my arm tightly as my tears continue to fall. I hear a ringing noise in my ear and my vision starts getting black. I try to keep my eyes open but darkness encircles me, making everything around me blurry.

...

I open my eyes and stare at the unfamiliar grey walls before remembering where I am. I look at my bandaged arm with my blurry vision before focusing on the tattooed man sitting beside me.

Noticing me awake, he whispers, "I tried my best to clean the wound. Although we will have to remove the bandage before he comes back or else he'll harm you more."

I nod my head curtly but keep my mouth shut. If only I could have stayed quiet earlier, I wouldn't have been hurt.

I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts. What's the point of repenting something that I'll undoubtedly do again?

"Eat," he states.

"You brought food for me?"

When he nods, I continue, "Didn't your boss say and I quote 'Don't give this bitch food tonight'? So why are you giving 'this bitch' food?"

"Because he's not going to be here for a little while. So eat."

He pushes the plate in front of me and I scrunch up my nose, looking at the contents. I pick up a burnt chapati and wave it in front of his face.

"You... want... me... to... eat... this?"

He gives me an amused glance and nods his head.

I make a face at him and shake my head. "This chapati is more burnt than it is cooked and what's this yellowish thingy? It looks like someone's vomit."

"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am, shall I bring a 5-course meal instead?"

"Yes, please," I say, pushing the plate away from me, "I'd like that very much."

He gives me a look that screams are-you-from-this-planet?

"Beggars aren't choosers, Naira. Eat your food," he says, leaving no room for further discussion.

I sigh and start eating the food, - if you could call it that - swallowing it. I turn to look at him and voice my thoughts, "So... how long am I going to stay here?"

"As long as it takes for Ayan to come here," he says distractedly, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, I'm not just going to wait for him to come, okay? There are no knights in shining armour in real lives and any girl who believes in them is a fool.

"And do you have any idea about how incompetent Indian Police sometimes is? I don't think they'll be able to trace this location. Forget helping me, some officers aren't even decent human beings. Heck, remember how two men were brutally beaten up and killed by two policemen and for what? For just violating the curfew timings?

"The world is a cruel place, tattooed man."

I sigh, knowing the irony of my situation. I'm discussing brutality with a criminal.

"Wait..." I ask him when he continues remaining silent, "How do you know Ayan's name? Also, didn't you address me with my name earlier?"

He rolls his eyes and mutters, "How dumb are you? We aren't just going to kidnap you without knowing everything about you."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense."

I swallow the rest of my food in silence, occasionally glancing at the door, worried that the masked man would burst out any moment.

"Can't you just help me in escaping? Just shut your eyes and I'll walk out. That way you can say you fell asleep."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"I can't annoy you into setting me free?"

"No."

"Tattooed man," I say, poking his ribs but he ignores me.

"Tattooed man."

Poke.

"Tattooed man."

Another poke.

"Tattooed man."

A poke again.

"Tattooed man."

Before I can poke him again, he catches my wrist and glares at me coldly.

"Stop it."

Obviously, I don't listen to him and poke him again. He groans and grabs both of my hands, tieing them again. I shriek, trying to escape his grip.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask in a soft voice.

"Shh," he shushes me and then does the impossible! He puts a duct tape on my mouth.

"Ntmgth...nnurgh...umph," I say, forming a string of incoherent words.

"Sorry..." He gives me a smirk. "Could you repeat yourself? I didn't quite catch that."

Oh, this fucking ars-

At that moment, the door bursts open and my eyes dart to my kidnapper who's wearing a plain black mask this time.

How many masks does this guy have?

He takes slow steps, eyes fixed on my left arm.

The tattooed man's smirk is replaced with a neutral expression and he bends his head down, refusing to look anyone in the eye.

"Boss, I-"

He's shushed by a raise of the masked man's hand who then brings his face closer to me and I scrunch up my face, glaring daggers at him.

"So you've been fed and your wounds have been treated." He traces a finger down my left arm and I close my eyes, filled with loathing at his touch.

I nod my head in answer.

I feel his fingers dig into my arm, pressing tightly into it and blood starts spilling out of it.

My scream gets stifled and I let out a sob, unable to hide my tears.

When he's satisfied with the amount of blood spilled, he leans back and reaches into the inside pocket of his hoodie, and my heart plummets to the bottom of my stomach.

In one quick move, he holds a gun to my head.

I'm going to die here, I think, my mouth completely dry, my heart beating so fast.

He wouldn't kill me, right? He said he's not going to.

"This'll teach ya to never help her," he says, glancing sideways at the tattooed man.

And then for the third time today, I'm knocked unconscious.