We Run for Love

Chapter 12

Afaaf Zaryaab Khan

I woke up with a start.

Clutching my throat as I coughed like a mad woman. The hollow of my insides, twisting as the fits of cough bubbled out of my mouth. My eyes turning teary as I grasped the water bottle from besides me and uncapped it. Chugging down the water, I patted my thorax lightly, trying to calm down.

Roaming my eyes around the bright room, I found my duppatta lying carelessly on the floor, like a red carpet. The curtains of the window pulled apart giving the view of low hills outside. My eyes settled on the tray of breakfast kept on the bedside table. I eyed it hungrily. But the water in my empty stomach was making a ball of uneasiness forming within me.

Nonethelessly my stomach grumbled leaving me no choice but to pull the tray. The freshness of the paratha melted in my mouth, and I ate like a starved chimpanzee. Not caring that I hadn't even brushed my teeth in two days.

I hadn't had food in more than 24 hours.

Finishing the last morsel, I leaned against the rough surface of the hotel bed. My body was aching, my muscles protesting. Closing my eyes for a second, I could feel the cold metal of gun placed against my head or the sharp knife scraping against my neck.

It felt like a nightmare.

All events of past two days rushing back to my senses. Goosebumps crawled up my skin as I jerked up from my position. My hands pulled at my mess of hair, my feet having a mind of their own as I stood up and walked to the window.

He stood besides the large vehicle talking intently with an older man standing before him. One look at his face, and my insides were curling with anger and fear.

My life was so dependent on him.

I shook my head suddenly disappointed at something I couldn't pinpoint. Reaching towards my bag on the floor, I unzipped it. Seeing two pairs of fresh clothes neatly folded in it. Chaudhary Sahib's wife must've done it. I thought as I pulled out the whiteish cream shalwar kameez.

And the breakfast was probably brought by that monster man. 

Making sure that the door was bolted, I drew the curtains of the window before getting inside the washroom. Standing before the mirror, I racked my eyes over my disheveled state.

Hair in a dirty mess, pointing in all wonderful directions. A bruise over the corner of my forehead stared at me sadly, while the left side of my face was swollen. And leaning towards the reflection, I could make out the imprinted finger prints there reminding me of the slap I had received. My eyes were dull and brown. My hands and arms were red with rashes and covered in designs of the ropes. My skin all rough and scratchy.

Rubbing my hands against my arms, I tried to get rid of marks. Failing badly, I opened the tap and splashed water on my face.

Taking a bath could only help me- I thought.