𝐀𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚 : 𝐸𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠

~🥀 The storm within 🥀~

💗

Haseena’s POV

The January night was unforgiving, its chill biting into my skin as I ran through the deserted streets. My lehenga choli, the same one I had been wearing when I was kidnapped, clung to me like a bitter reminder of my captivity. The once-pristine fabric was now dirtied and torn, the intricate embroidery dulled by dust and grime. My dupatta trailed behind me, snagging on stones as I moved, but I didn’t care.

My hair, once tied in an elegant braid, had unraveled, wild strands sticking to my damp face. The sound of my anklets echoed faintly, though one had already broken during my escape. My bare feet ached, bruised by the uneven ground, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

The stars above twinkled indifferently, their cold light illuminating my desperate path. Each breath felt like a knife in my chest, and the icy wind pierced through my thin attire. But the fear of being caught burned hotter than the frost.

"Main yahan se nikal jaungi," I whispered to myself, teeth chattering. No one will stop me.

---

The faint glow of the bus stand came into view, a small oasis in the endless darkness. My legs trembled as I slowed down, the adrenaline starting to wane. A handful of people loitered near the old, rickety bus, their faces shadowed and indifferent.

I approached the conductor hesitantly, clutching my dupatta tightly. “Yeh bus kahaan ja rahi hai?”

He barely glanced at me, flipping through a small stack of tickets. “City ke bahar jaayegi, Raigarh ke taraf.”

Relief washed over me. “Mujhe ek ticket chahiye.”

His bored expression didn’t change as he extended a hand. “Paise do.”

I froze. My hands fumbled through the tiny pouch tied to my lehenga, but it was empty. Of course, it was empty—I had nothing. My heart sank, panic bubbling to the surface.

My gaze fell to the anklet still adorning my foot. Without hesitation, I bent down, unfastening it with shaking fingers. I held it out to him. “Yeh le lijiye… paise ke badle.”

The man squinted at the piece of jewelry, then at me. For a moment, I feared he would refuse. But he nodded, snatching it from my hand. “Theek hai. Chalo, bus mein baitho.”

---

As I climbed onto the creaky steps of the bus, I felt a flicker of hope. I found a seat in the far corner, shrinking into the shadows. The hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of the passengers provided a strange sense of comfort.

But even as the bus lurched forward, taking me further from the palace, a storm brewed within me. My heart raced, torn between the relief of being free and the fear of what lay ahead. I had no destination, no plan beyond escaping that gilded cage.

I rested my head against the cold glass window, staring at the dark, unfamiliar road that stretched endlessly before me. The bus rattled with every bump, its dim interior filled with strangers who seemed as weary as I felt.

This is freedom, I told myself, yet it felt hollow. My fingers clutched the edge of my dupatta as I tried to push away the lingering dread.

The sound of the conductor calling out the next stop broke my reverie. I realized the bus was moving closer to Raigarh, further from the life I had been forced into. The thought brought a bittersweet smile to my face.

I closed my eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. Each breath carried a promise to myself: No matter what it takes, I won’t go back. I deserve to live, to breathe, to be free.