Hi lovelies! Thank you again for your feedback! I left messages for everyone who commented in earlier posts in this thread (post 1 and post 2). Please see the next chapter below. :)
(Link to chapter index)
Chapter 3
The next time Geet opened her eyes, she had no idea where she was or how much time had passed. Hours? Days? All she knew was that she had fainted at some point and that her head still felt somewhat fuzzy.
Geet sat up slowly. She was in an unfamiliar, yet luxurious, bed. The comforter was heavy and embroidered with gold. The bed sat in the middle of a room painted in a warm shade of cream. Geet didn’t see so much as a speck of dust. There was a chest of drawers in one corner, a writing desk and a chair in another, and a nightstand next to the bed with a heavy glass lamp. Rain tapped insistently against a round window. Was this the same storm she had been in earlier, or was it a new day, a new storm?
Someone had placed Geet’s tote bag in the desk chair. Her shabby bag looked completely out of place in this spotless room. Geet thought back to the shelter she had been kicked out of, with its torn carpets, stained walls, and rickety bunk beds that the girls had had to share.
Where *was* she?
Slowly peeling the comforter back, Geet realized with a start that she was no longer wearing her own clothes. Someone -- who? -- had changed her into a pair of soft leggings and long turquoise tunic, both seeming to be brand new.
*Concentrate, Geet,* she ordered herself. She sat very still as memories began to flood back to her. The headmistress throwing her out of the shelter without warning or a chance for Geet to say a word; Geet running into a dark alley to escape from the storm; hearing a bang and seeing a group of men surround a body on the ground; blood -- so much blood; the obvious “boss” of the group, Maan, demanding to know what Geet had seen . . . .
Overwhelmed, Geet gripped the comforter between her fingers. Even though the room was warm, she felt as if her body was a block of ice.
A knock sounded at the door to the bedroom, and Geet stared dumbly at it. Who in the world could that be? And, once again, where was she?
Another knock and Geet finally found her voice. “Come in,” she said tentatively.
A cheerful looking woman holding a tray waltzed into the room. “Hi!” she exclaimed. “I’m Pinky.”
“Um, hello.” Geet tried not to look too bewildered at her guest. “I . . . I’m Geet.”
“I brought you some dinner,” Pinky said kindly, setting down the tray on the desk. Geet could see a tall glass of water and a bowl with steam rising from it.
Geet rubbed her temple. “Where am I?” she asked, desperation rising in her voice. “Who changed my clothes?”
Pinky picked up the glass of water from the tray and handed it to Geet. “Oh, I should have mentioned right away that I changed your outfit,” she said. “I checked your bag to see if you had any clothes to change into since the ones you were wearing were grimy and soaked. But all of the clothes you had packed were dirty. That’s why you’re in the new clothes that we had delivered.”
Geet had actually packed clean clothes from the shelter, but they probably *were* raggedy enough that someone would think them unwashed.
“The clothes you were wearing earlier are being laundered,” Pinky added.
Parched, Geet gulped down the entire glass of water. “Thank you for the drink and the clothes,” she said uneasily. “Where am I?”
Nodding toward the bowl on the tray, Pinky said, “I brought soup for you. Are you hungry?”
Geet was famished, but she could only stare at the young woman. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?” she pleaded.
Pinky looked at her sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, but I’m under strict orders to keep my mouth closed.”
“Closed about what?”
“About everything.” Pinky stared down at her hands, her fingernails fittingly painted a cool coral.
Geet set the glass down on the nightstand. The static in her head was growing thicker. “Please,” she said brokenly. “I need to know.” Was this just some waystation she was passing through before that man -- Maan -- punished her for being in the wrong place at the wrong time?
At Geet’s obvious distress, Pinky bit her lip. She hesitated, then leaned forward. “Do you remember what happened earlier tonight in the alley?” she whispered. “My husband, Adi, was there. He said you fainted.”
Geet nodded slowly. So it had only been a few hours, at most, that she had been knocked out. “I remember, but -- but I didn’t go to the alley on purpose,” she said in a rush. “I’m not even sure exactly what happened. Please, whoever you . . . report to, please tell them that I won’t say a word to anyone about anything, I just want to get out of this place --”
Pinky rested her hand on Geet’s shoulder. “I’m afraid you have to stay here at Maan Sir’s house.” She really did look sorry, which only caused Geet’s alarm to grow.
She was in this man’s house? A man who was leading a group of other men who had surrounded a body? And who carried a gun on his person? “For how long? How long do I have to stay here?”
Pinky looked out the window, the rain still falling in sheets. “That’s up to Maan Sir,” she said quietly. “I was able to buy you some time by bringing you food, but . . . .” She trailed off and turned back toward Geet. “He wants to see you right away.”
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Thanks for reading!
Edited by kumari3 - 4 years ago