FARIHA AFSAR
She tried to stay away, to keep herself far from the preying hands of the uncanny man but he grabbed her waist and pulled her close. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, buried under the weak ribcage. He was breathing heavily next to her, but not that adjacent where he could touch her, except his hand was on her hand. Although the mattresses were different, yet he crept closer to her, among the three girls sleeping in that room on that night. The two were deep in their slumber.
She was clearly aware that he wasn’t asleep but was pretending to be. She couldn’t sleep either, if she did, she would not be able to save herself. When she would try to detach her hand from his, slowly, his grip would go tighter, making her nauseated from anxiety. She was lying on the mattress but her attire seemed as if she was going outside, on that night of December, which was snowing. Her heavy coat was on, her scarf was covered over her head and upper body. By doing so, she was trying to protect herself from any unfavourable gesture from the man lying near her.
With profound regret and a soaring bitterness, she recalled the afternoon when they had come to his house for a research and he, very gleefully, had asked them to be comfortable as he used to say it was the house of every guest who was coming there. They had worked for a long time on that research but when they saw evening descending, the whole family members of the man urged them to stay for the night. They didn’t want to, which they clearly showed in their firm protest against staying, but there was no way they could go to their homes in that hour of the evening, hence their all attempts went futile.
At last compulsion made them stay. But the shock of him sleeping in the same room as them was even more disturbing. They tried to ask for a separate room, which they did in a subtle way as they were sure of his short temper if expressing that explicitly, but in vain was their attempt. He ignored it swiftly, by sleeping there. They made themselves sleep in one of the corners of the room in order to sleep as far away as they could, but their efforts were met with aggressive behaviour. He blamed them for not trusting him. He was just like an elder brother to them. He scolded them for having negative mindsets and threw all kinds of emotional tortures, which made them feel ashamed for being pessimistic about him. At that time, they did realize how much he had done for them so many times. Yes, he had acted like a big brother to them before. Yes, he did make them familiar with new opportunities and horizons. Yes, he did help them when their own families scolded them for having needs and wants of the basic things of life. In addition, he was their relative, a relative whom their families never really acknowledged as one. That’s when they gave in. That’s when their nervous system came to a slight rest, assuring them that it was okay to be in the same room and a bit near his mattress, perhaps; perhaps was the most burdensome word they were carrying in their heads when they finally accepted his order. But does a brother really sleep that much closer to his sisters? This also lingered with them.
The mystery to her was his being attached to her rather than the other two. He was not clinging to them but only to her. She couldn’t bring herself to sleep. The others were sleeping fast. They were having the sweet essence of dream, she thought, and yet she was as alert as a rabbit who had listened to the gunfire of a hunter in the far end of a jungle. She knew the man was not sleeping too, only he had his eyes closed. His continual yawning was proof of his being a liar. His hand was still resting on her. She was glued to the other girl, making a slight distance between herself and him, which she did with difficulty as he was too cunning to her every move. She did drag her scared body away from him, many times, but he dragged himself towards her, in the pretence of sleep. She was sure that if she made a bold move, he would grab her and would do something horrible.
Bad times don’t scare you as much as suspense. It is the most horrific feeling ever. No amount of horror can be comparable to it, she realized this there and then, which was an unexpected revelation for her. She longed for the morning’s light, for the rays of the sun, the wakefulness of human life, so that she could be saved from the preying man. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to run away. But she couldn’t. She felt her tears drying up. Her voice shutting down. Her body was paralyzed.
‘I wish I was dead, dead on the day when I was sick years ago, when everyone was scared of losing me. I wish I had died on that day, it would have saved me from being a victim to this monster. Some forgotten thought of her past crept to her mind, which was a trifling thought as long as she had never experienced a trap like that. With that thought a searing pain and an unusual and bitter anger sprang from her being too. An anger at the man, at herself for coming there, for trusting him, for thinking like a fool that the world is good and safe. She wanted to escape or simply disappear. Yet she couldn’t do anything. She was an epitome of helplessness. She thought of those days when she used to brag about killing those who would rest a lustful eye on her, but here she was as helpless as a log, her body like a dead rat, lying on the mattress, and she couldn’t even try to move it. Except for the breathing and racing thoughts, which were uncontrollably sprouting.
More yawning from the monster. More trying to get closer to her. More tight of his grip on her hand. Her hand felt dead, she felt the blood draining away from it, as if someone had denied water for a thirsty. Her breathing was plummeting, a difficulty arose to take in some air. Her heartbeats were beating as if sticks on the drum. Her eyes closed but mind alert. She wanted to lift herself and run. Or scream. Or hit him. Or call for help. Or do anything, ANYTHING except lying like that there. She was tired of seeing herself at the mercy of fate. But what was fate? Was it something which had been given to us or was it something we could create? She mulled. Why was she losing time by just thinking? Why can’t she just do anything to end the miserable situation she was battling with? Or will the misery of suspense at last consume her? Will the monster consume her as food for his lust? What would she do if he acted that way? Terrified, was such a weak word in front of her lava of horrible emotions she was going through at that moment. She was crestfallen at the appearance of such feelings, as it was novel for her, at the same time terrible too which made her drained in sweats.
A slight speck of sleep showed on his repulsive face. She heaved a temporary sigh of relief. She took this opportunity to get herself away from him a bit, a little distance, which brought a profuse gratitude from her that finally some safety was shown. In addition, she saw some light outside, behind the curtains of the window. THANK GOD, she whispered to herself in her heart but still her afraid heart didn’t quell the fierce pounding. She knew she couldn’t trust him, he might be pretending for the hundredth times, but still she was hopeful that the approaching light would keep her safe.
The chirping of the birds finally gave her the assurance of the morning’s aliveness. But sleep had vanished from her, leaving her eyes dead tired. Neither does she want to sleep now. The urgency to flee from the heinous place was so prominent in her that she slightly shook the hand of her friend who was sleeping next to her. No response. She was so deep in her sleep that the gentle shake of her hand didn’t wake her.
His repugnant body stirred. He opened his eyes, looked left and right to check if any of the girls were awake. When saw all of them asleep, he stood up. The girl’s hands were trembling below the blankets. Her eyes were closed but she was sensing his every move. She was sure that he would attack her now. She was expecting the lifting of the blankets, while her temple was sweating. At the stir of his footsteps, her mouth went dry. She felt her breathing stop, her lungs were unable to fill air. She was expecting his bulky body to creep closer but her ears sensed it receding, and in a few seconds the door opened, and he vanished.
She felt relief washed over her. She felt small drops of tears in the corner of her eyes. It’s only the eyes which weren’t dead in me, she reflected. Hurriedly she shook, with force, her two friends, which made them come out from sleep.
The moment when the man came back to the room, all the three girls were awake. His face didn’t show any emotion when he saw them, especially the one whom he had tried to prey on, perhaps he was already expecting it.
“We had a really good sleep, right?” He asked, but his eyes were on her. The two considered it just a formal sentence directed towards them, but the girl clearly knew the sarcastic remark behind the sentence. She knew that he was clearly aware of her restless state during the night, he knew that she was afraid of him, he knew that she didn’t trust him, he knew that she wanted to get away, he knew that she was trapped, she was hating every second of the night, she hated him. Yet still, with a moving smile in the corner of his face, he showed that despite all that it was him, who was powerful, it was him who had spared her. This he professed in his confident smirk. A mockery of her cowardice. A laugh at her helplessness. A sign to show that he was powerful and in charge of everything, at least in his house, whether it was an object or a human (no matter if that was an outsider), to do anything he desires.
She didn’t look at him, as if she was guilty, as if she was responsible for all this, as if being born as a girl was her fault and her doing. Her existence felt a burden, a mistake, an unwanted, unexpected incident, which was never celebrated as a happy occasion. Even if she was an innocent, who had not done anything to end up in a situation like that, she was held responsible by her conscience, perhaps the influence of the society which had brought her up as a woman, but always inferior to men, even if she does nothing. She was unable to gulp down the breakfast. Every moment in his presence was an utter torture for her, a repulsive punishment. The moment they were out, only then she felt the haste in her feet; they were carrying her too fast, she almost felt like running. Her friends called her to slow down, but her mind was telling her to run as fast as she could, as if she was being chased by the molester in her mind. She ran faster……. Safety ceased to exist, since then.
BASED ON A REAL STORY.
Related: