Sitara and The Dayan

Chapter Eight

As silently as possible, Sitara moved around the room. Turning on her phone's flashlight, she went to the closet. She was going to miss the closet, the large room and all the luxury. But she would prefer to be alive rather than die with all the luxury.

Glancing at the closet, she cursed. Why did she pack all her best outfits? Couldn't she have left a few in her house? It took her a long time to build her wardrobe and now she had to leave it behind. But again, how could she have known she would face a Dayan? She was dreaming about all the beautiful places she would go and take Pinterest-worthy photographs.

Besides her outfits, what she would hate to leave behind were her books. She had brought half her library. She wished she had the strength to carry the hundred pounds of books with her.

Finally, she made a hard decision and said goodbye to her outfits and books. She grabbed her backpack and shoved two pairs of jeans, tops, and a summer dress. Then she picked up her credit card. She didn't have enough money to run to another country. But she could survive at least two days with the money she had right now. This would provide her enough time until she figured out a way.

Sitara packed her phone charger next. How could she forget it? It was as important as her life.

While she was packing, Sitara's gaze landed on the mysterious book. She quickly picked up the book and pulled out the note. Now she was one hundred percent sure the note was meant for her. The book must have a clue for her. Sitara eagerly opened the book and began reading, only to be taken aback by what she discovered. It was a book about dayan, and she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it earlier.

It couldn't be a coincidence. All the puzzle pieces connected perfectly. The note, the book about the dayan and her grandma turning out to be a dayan. Someone knew Grandma was a dayan, and they gave Sitara this hint.

Sitara desperately scanned through the book, hoping to find a clue on how to escape. However, apart from the note, there was nothing that would help her. Pointing her flash into the paper, she reread the note again and again. There too wasn't anything written about how to escape.

Sitara put the book inside her backpack. After that, she changed out of her pajamas, which she had worn since the previous night.

After she finished, slung her backpack over her shoulder.

But how was she going to get out of the mansion?

Her eyes darted towards the door, contemplating her options. The front door seemed like a practical escape route, but the risks were too high. Tripti's room was adjacent to the living room, and the thought of encountering Grandma or Tripti downstairs made her uneasy.

That left her with only one option, and that was the window. Yes, the age-old method of escaping.

Sitara made her way to the window and opened it. The chilly night breeze brushed against her skin, causing a shiver to run down her spine. The darkness outside was impenetrable, with empty streets stretching out for miles without a single soul in sight. It was an ideal setting to murder someone, without anyone ever knowing.

As far as she knew, the neighbors were miles away. Sitara wished Misha's family still lived here. If she had banged on their door at midnight and said she was hunted by a dayan, they would have believed her. They would have comforted her with a mug of hot chocolate.

Sitara sighed. Once again, feeling lonelier than ever.

She looked down and cursed herself. Why did she choose the second floor?

Maybe she could take the risk and jump out of the window. But if she broke her leg, she wouldn't be able to run away.

She glanced around the room and chose another age-old method of escaping.

Sitara rushed to her bed, swiftly removed the bedsheet, and retrieved two additional sheets from the closet. She tied them all, creating sturdy footholds with multiple knots. Once satisfied with her work, she fastened one end of the bedsheet to the table leg. The table, being close to the window, seemed capable of supporting her weight. After ensuring the knot was secure, Sitara threw the other end of the bedsheets out of the window.

With her heart racing, she clutched the bedsheet tightly, recited the Hanuman Chalisa, and cautiously made her way out of the window. Slowly she descended towards the ground. When she was still three or four feet above the ground, the bedsheet suddenly snapped, causing her to land on a bed of rose bushes. The sharp thorns pierced her skin, but Sitara gritted her teeth to stifle any sound. Pushing through the pain, she stood up, quickly surveyed her surroundings, and headed towards the gate.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached the gate, the journey feeling like an eternity. Finally, she felt a wave of relief as her hand reached for the cold iron handle. However, her relief turned to dismay as she discovered the gate was secured with a large padlock.

Sitara looked back at the house that loomed at the night like a monster. The mansion now had a new identity in her mind - the dayan's lair. Once upon a time, Sitara had cherished this very house.

There was no time to waste, and she started to climb the gate. It would have been an easier task if she wasn't shaking with fear. But finally, she made it to the other side.

Finally, she was free. She had escaped the clutches of the dayan.

The closest street light, located yards away, emitted a faint yellow glow that cast eerie shadows of the swaying tree branches. Sitara found herself standing on the deserted street in the dead of night, feeling a mix of fear and loneliness.

She mustered up her courage and began walking away from the mansion.

Suddenly, a hand gripped her arm and jerked her to a stop.

***

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