06— A word with my Saviour.

“And in the end, we all need a friend who would listen to what we have to say.”

—Saumya Tripathi 

“Wouldn't life be simpler for once?” 

Ebbing away the feeling of apprehension, I chanted, and chanted repeatedly, drowning myself in my own belief that I would go. 

I will go, implicitly.

"I'll soon be away from here. I just have to be patient and wait for the right movement to flip and escape." I contemplated inwardly.

Reconciling, I enthused and sighed constantly for a few seconds before it was cut short. 

"Don't be so imaginative about your never happening escape plan, my little dove. It will not work nor will I let it happen since I'll be making sure of it," he piqued at me incredulously as though reading my psyche's talk.

In spite of jumping at his all-so-sudden tone, the first time my temper flared and I glared up, defiantly at him.

Persistence and determination were what cannot be snatched away from anyone. 

Not away from me. Both of them were in my genes. 

Persistent as I was— I will never renounce my efforts. 

And determination— neither will I give up on my persistence, that was, escaping from this very ominous situation. I reckoned.

"No, probably not. Since I am not even imagining it, I know I can go. And I will," I said through my teeth forcing out the words, glaring up.

He glared right back down at me.

His clean obsidian eyes narrowed into slits at my proclamation.

We glared without saying a word. 

Silence. 

He glared with certain vehemence in his glaze. But I did not back down either. I too looked firmly at him. He will not always bully me. I will not let him.

I added, "You are a total stranger to us whom we don't know anything about and my parents will never allow us to remain in a stranger's house even for a night at any cost let alone permit us to stay here!" However my voice was firm despite my crumbling insides, there was something familiar in his obstinate gaze that I could not come to pinpoint. 

His face turned blank for a second. 

"Although, when the parents are already dead?" He asked, eyes cold and sounding annoyed but strained.

Standing nonplussed, I felt my tears coming up again. 

How did he come to know that? My lips wobbled with anguish, and my orbs of gleaming tears felt full. 

Apart from my brimming hot tears, I felt another different emotion buoying in my mind: I felt contempt, atrocious grief and hostility towards him. I was mad and fuming as well as alarmed regarding his acknowledgements about my personal life. But, I forced, or tried to force back the tears from falling, I kept them at bay.

Who was...he? My mind seemed to ask the same question over and over again without getting the answer. 

Whatsoever, knowing about my parents did not give him the right to remind me of my already torn ragged wound. He had no right to use it as a weapon against me.

"You don't have anyone besides an old uncle of yours. You should stop lying to me, little one. It won't make me change my intent. I know everything about you. Now, would you stay here willingly?" His tone carried an edge of fierceness in them as he added further.

I could feel his eyes on me. Dark and sincere assessing me. I squirmed under their weight. 

How did he know all that?

“No.”

“What did you say?” He took a step toward me. 

“I said, no,” building my guts, I told him without stuttering this time. 

He nodded silently. Paused, took a step back and looked straight into my eyes before saying: “Either it is the hard way or the easy way out as I already told you. The choice is all yours.”

"No, I'm not going to stay here any longer and you can't make me either!" Apart from my hoarse throat and dry mouth, I didn't know where the braveness came from but I was satisfied that I, at least, stood up for my brother, myself and my parents even if they were not here. 

In that instant, my jaw was gripped in a vice grip. I yelped at the sudden contact. The grip wasn't hard but the tightness felt uncomfortable. 

“Why don't you understand this is for your own good?”

The years of anguish and frustration welled up in my eyes at the audacity of his sentence. “No!” I breathed hard. “This wasn't protection. This is a prison.” His hold slackened. “Where I don't even know why I have been brought and who are you people. This is a place where I am being kept unwillingly!” 

The tears of heartache welled up in my eyes. 

But my parents could be watching over us for all I know. Wouldn't they? 

I blinked twice to clear my blurred vision.

"Why are you so adamant about keeping us here?" I asked him the same question that was resounding in my mind since the very first day.

Silence.

He stood stiffly watching me. His constant angry, tawny eyes made him more intimidated and implacable. His lips were pressed into a hard seam.

But, determined as I was, I did not back down cowardly. I grimaced.

Even in my bold state, my heart was pounding aghast at the icy glare that he was sending my way.

Although, instead of fearing him, I stood my ground.

Shutting his eyes for a movement, he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, breathing hard from his nose. After opening his eyes, he glanced at me in a mild soft manner. The glare he had been giving me just a while ago was now long broken and instead, an unnecessary concern could be seen in his eyes.

He signed momentarily. Eyebrows knitted together. The hand on my jaw was withdrawn instead he let them stroll in my swollen face softly. I stood there frozen. 

"Go take some rest. You look worn out and depleted. Hm?” There was a gentleness in his tone this time. “And you better sleep as I don't want to see those dark shadows below your eyes,” he demanded, wagging his index finger in my direction, threateningly.

Did he just change the important topic? Did he? He did!

"And for the previous questions; you'd come to know in due time," he revealed, staring.

What? I wondered briefly, staring confusingly at him.

Looking somewhat satisfied at my confounded appearance, he smiled slightly, whatsoever, his eyes were hard.

Hastily, he brought his hand up a little, leaning closer, he patted my head like a parent does to their kid.

My mouth dropped open, I was stunned.

Skidding out of my hazy condition, I retreated.

"No!" I said, loudly. "Don't touch me!" Saying, I stepped further away. Finally coming out of my stupified state. 

I gulped, restraining myself from yelling at him in frustration.

A shudder passed through me when he took a step forward, unashamed.

Promptly, all of a sudden his phone rang in the silent room, startling me.

His dark-black eyes flickered to his phone for a second before flickering back at me.

"Your eyes-" he breathed, assessing me. "-looks so disconsolate and dull. Please get some rest." It was almost a plea. 

Uttering, he twirled around almost immediately. Pacing up to the wooden linen door, he stopped, his left palm on the knob was stilled. Turning his torso a bit in my direction, he stated,

"Until we assemble again, little one. And take care of you and that football of yours for me. Will you?" Saying, he actually winked and grinned before bringing up his phone to his ear and walking out of the room within seconds.

I stood staggering, wide-eyed with a racing heart. What just happened? After he left with so many vague questions appearing inside my head, I was forced to think about getting away from him. He was an odd person. 

I sighed tiredly still wonderstruck at his audacity. My head ached and throbbed. He was such a shameful, obnoxious person. My brother isn't a football! I yelled inwardly. 

Turning red from blazing anger, I fumed and exhaled.

Somehow managing my staggered persona, I sighed. Yes, I felt tired, deprived and drained not only mentally but metaphysically too. 

Turning around, away from the door, I leaned closer to my brother then I saw him gnawing at my dupatta.

"Oh! No, no. You should not chew this! Why are you fussing, baby? Are you hungry?" I asked Shaurya, taking away my dupatta from his smallmouth, and gently, looking down at him. 

His dark brown eyes so similar to mine stared at me cutely, a cute pout full-on display I smiled at him, blinking the tears away. "Don't worry we will not be staying here for long. We'd be home in no time,” I consoled him and me. “Have you heard how he called you a football and winked at me? He is such a bad guy- very bad indeed, and a shameful person. But, we'll be going soon in our own home." I added but frowned anyway.

Meanwhile, not long, after his departure, the gate reopened.

My heart skipped a beat thinking he might have returned. I stood.

"Uzair would you please- oh. . ." A woman's rejoiced voice sounded from somewhere far behind me but was cut short immediately. 

My tensed muscle relaxed knowing that the person was not him. He wasn't here.