Lullaby
(Note: Text written in italic portions represents flashbacks)
'Please, don't do this', Zoya begged weakly, her body lacking strength, as Ayaan escorted her into the apartment.
Ayaan looked at her petite, weak form as she was dragged by the other two men into the apartment, while he followed. She was really weak, he thought. How would she be able to..?
He heard his cellphone ring, shaking him out of his chain of thoughts.
'Its 11 p.m already, Ayaan! Where's the girl?', he heard his boss yell through the phone.
'Sir, she's here', he replied, shutting his eyes in order to block the view of the helpless girl in front of him.
'Bring her up, right now!'
'Sir, she seems quite tired. I was thinking if maybe-', he began before being brutally cut off.
'Shut the f*ck up!'.
Ayaan had to move his phone away from his ear as his boss exploded. It won't be long before he would lose his hearing capability, he thought sadly.
'Do as much you're asked, do you understand?!', Asad barked.
'Yes sir', he sighed.
As he kept the phone back in his pocket, he did not fail to notice the slight twinkle in her eyes for just a second. He didn't know if he was imagining it or did she actually try thanking him for trying. He felt even worse now.
He took one last look at the girl his heart went out to, and walked away, towards the car, to head back to his office. Afterall, he would have to take care of the empire his boss has built while he remained busy in such ghastly sins.
**
He wasn't the bad man, she thought with mixed emotions, he was just another pawn. The bad man awaited her somewhere in this posh, luxurious apartment to ravish her. She wanted to throw up, but even for that she needed strength which he completely lacked.
'Abbu, why are you sad?', a five year old girl asked, tugging at her father's sherwani.
The man in his late thirties crouched down, to her eye level and looked at her with heaps of love and affection. He patted her slightly on the head, lovingly.
'Abbu, Ammi said weddings are good', the little girl said confused, her button of a nose twitching. 'Its Khala Simmi's wedding, na? Why are you sad?'
Siddqiue cupped his daughter's face gently and kissed her on the forehead.
'One day my baby will marry too and leave me na', he said, his voice shaking slightly.
'I will not go anywhere, Abu!', Zoya said crashing against her father's chest, giving him one of her famous healing hugs.
This made Siddique chuckle slightly, as he hugged his daughter back.
'One day, I'l find you a man who would love you more than I do, baby', he said, patting her head. 'A man who would love you against all your odds, and who you would love against all his. And then, you would have to go'.
'No, no no no no!', Zoya said, hitting her father on his chest, with her tiny hands.
'Acha baba, okay!', Siddique said, surrendering. 'Go and have something to eat now', he said, standing up, fixing his sherwanani.
He watched his little daughter run away to eat something. Food would always be her weakness, he thought smiling. He just wished someday he could find the perfect man for his daughter.
'Milega', came a voice from behind him, making him turn.
There stood his beautiful, graceful wife looking beautiful as ever.
'Hamari bachi ko ek shehzada zaroor milega', she said smiling, entwining her arms with her husband's.
They both there watching their daughter quarrelling with some other kid over a slice of her favourite, chocolate cake, lost in their own thoughts.
None of them knew there was a little camera behind them on the wall, which had captured this sweet, innocent moment which Zoya had so lovingly watched every other day, since fifteen years, cherishing each second of it.
Tears cascaded down her face once again, as she remembered her family and their hopes regarding her marriage. All that was not already lost, would be lost in a moments time. All will be finished. She would be scarred for life.
She let the two huge men drag her into the apartment, knowing protesting would be futile now. She was meant to be scarred. She just hoped her parents' spirits had already passed on and would never witness the cruelty she would have to go through now.
**
He sat on his leather black sofa, a glass of wine in his hand, clearly complimenting the lifestyle of its owner. He had one of his legs resting over the other, as he sat indolently, his head thrown back.
What was taking that man so long, he thought angrily.
He tossed the wine down his throat, before getting up and reaching for his phone. But before he could call, his phone beeped receiving a text message.
His jaw clenched as he read the message.
'Beta, tomorrow is your mother's barsi, we need you here', the message read.
He threw his phone across the room, breaking it into a million pieces, a low grunt leaving his mouth.
His breathing turned shallow, his eyes seeing only red. No one who loved their life would want to come closer to the animal while he paced his room, breathing fire, uncaged.
'How dare you, Rashid Ahmed Khan?', he hissed to the empty room.
His firm, lean frame shook with raw emotions as he breathed.
'How dare you text me reminding me of my own mother's death?', he yelled, throwing whatever he could find, destroying everything that he could get his hands on. 'How dare you talk about my mother, you murderer?'.
From glasses, to saucers, from tea cups to his laptop, everything lay there on the ground, all divided into a million pieces.
He picked his car keys and exited his apartment through the back lift, his chest constricting, begging for fresh air. He needed to go somewhere far, where his own created mess in the house won't remind him of what happened a few moments ago.
He sat in his car with urgency, and drove away, as fast as he could, not caring once about the time of the night or the dark roads infront. The whole day he had tried to lessen his pain through alcohol, through kick-boxing, but the pain in him refused to go away. He even ordered a girl for the night, to block his flashbacks that had haunted him since twelve years, for some time. It would've worked too had it not been for the man who had sadly played a part in his birth. The man who had also subsequently played a part in his mother's death.
Amidst throwing things here and there, breaking them, he did not realise when the cushion fell on top of an old recorder, his only memory of his mother, playing the music he often avoided. The lullaby his mother used to sing for him. The music filled the empty room, echoing the lullaby that was recorded years ago.
**
'Listen up, you wh*re', one of the men spat at her. 'Boss will meet you here, and you will wait for him, is that clear?'
She kept her eyes low, not wanting to break down again seeing their heartless demeanour.
'When boss is finished with her, we can feast on her, what say?', one of the man said to the other, smirking.
'Yeah! I mean look at her', the second said, lowering himself near Zoya, making her cringe.
He placed one of his hands on her thigh, sliding upwards, making Zoya scream and kick her legs as her arms were held by the other man.
'Don't touch me, let me go!', she screamed.
And with that the men released her, making her run back into the wall behind her, wanting to maintain as much distance as possible.
One of the men neared her once again, slapping her across the face hard enough for her to lose her balance, and fall back on the ground, whimpering in pain.
She saw the retreating backs of the men, and she didn't know whether to feel happy or sad. They couldn't do anything with her before their 'boss' ravished her. And now that they were gone, she knew her time to lose her most precious asset was near too. She brought her knees up, hugging them as she shook, crying on her ill fate.
Fifteen minutes passed as she sat there, in the same position, when she heard a soft music playing somewhere, instantly catching her attention. She recognised the soft, charming, soulful music almost immediately. Bitter, hot tears rolled down her cheeks, as she hummed along with the music, drifting back in her colourful past.
'Ammi, I can't sleep!', a twelve year old Zoya whined, as she crawled on her mother's bed.
'Why beta?', her mother asked concerned, sitting up straight in the bed.
'I don't know'
'Well, your Abbu's out of town, why don't you sleep with me tonight?'
'Ammi, sing me those lullabies, please?'
'Allah Miyaan, you're a big girl now and still you always pester me for those silly lullabies', Zainab chuckled, pulling her daughter into the bed with her.
Making sure she was comfortably tucked inside the duvet, she balanced her head on her hands, supported by her elbow, and slowly patted her daughter's head lovingly as she stared back at her.
Zoya looked at her mother's face, full of warmth, full of love. She heard the soft humming of her mother on one of her favourite lullabies, making her eyes feel heavy. She started humming along with her mother, but could only manage a few minutes before her eyes closed, and sleep consumed her.
There in the middle of the huge, well furnished waiting room adjoining Asad Ahmed Khan's apartment, lay a petite form against the wall, sleeping, demons chasing her even in her sleep while the angels protected her. Nobody knew how she slept while humming. Her wavy eyebrows, relaxing every now and then, and her tear stricken face shifting from left to right every now and then was enough to suggest she was having a nightmare cum dream.
**
Meanwhile, on a dark and deserted, rocky road sat one of India's most eligible bachelor, one of the most ruthless, succesful entrepreneur, leaning against his black SUV, his head thrown back towards the headlights of the vehicle. His tear stricken face and blood-shot eyes did very little to hide his inner turmoil. But then who was he to hide them from? There was no one around him.
He was alone. Alone in the huge world full of cruelty, embracing everyone within its circle, slowly but gradually.
'Ammi!!!', he yelled out to the heavens, his whole body shaking with the intensity of his blood curdlng scream.
The man was in pain. Sheer pain. And no one could save him from himself. His life had already been finished many years ago. He was a living corpse.
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Edited by -ElmoFuj- - 12 years ago
Cricket
Indian Mythology
124