It was around 1 a.m. when the men dragged an unconscious man through the stillness of the night. The man's shoes scraped agaisnt the ground, breaking the silence, while the distant chirping of crickets filled the air. The full moon cast a bright glow agaisnt the dark sky, with stars scattered like tiny white flowers.
"God, this guy is fucking heavy!", Zaid muttered struggling as he began tying ropes around Shabbir's limp body.
"Yeah, he's like a hippo", Ibrahim chimed in, suddenly delivering a firm slap to Shabbir's face for no apparent reason.
How dare he call me a shortie? I'm perfect just the way I am! In fact, I'm the most handsome man in my family-- well, after Shahmeer bhai, of course', Ibrahim thought to himself, puffing out his chest a little.
"Yaar, kya soch raha hai? Pair band iss haati bhai ke", Haris ordered tossing the ropes toward Ibrahim, who quickly got to work.
"Waise manna padega bande ki shakal khasi thik thak hai", Zaid said slapping the duct tape over Shabbir's mouth to keep him quite.
Kya pata woh jaag jaye aur chillane lage, you never know, isiliye usne ducttape bandiya.
"Mujhse zyada nahi hai!", Ibrahim shot back rolling his eyes as he tugged at Shabbir's hair.
Ibrahim was just like that; he couldn't stand it when someone praised an outsider. To him, family was everything, and they should only think, praise, and stick together.
"Iss snow white par paani dal aur utha ise", Haris instructed Ibrahim, who walked over to the corner and filled a small bucket with water from the tap. With a sadistic smile curling on his lips, he turned to face Shabbir, who remained slumped in the chair, still unconscious.
"Wakey wakey, asshole", he muttered and with a swift motion, he threw the bucket of water over Shabbir, drenching him from head to toe.
A groan escaped Shabbir's lips as he struggled to open his eyes. His face, once radiant, now appeared pale, marred by dried blood that clung to his skin like a haunting reminder of his recent ordeal. His hair was a chaotic mess, framing his striking features that seemed almost sculpted by the hands of a master artist. The uneven buttons of his shirt hinted at a hasty escape, while the fabric clung to his body, revealing the contours of his physique---a perfect blend of strength and grace, reminiscent of a Greek statue.
Shabbir was a living testament to the idea that beauty can often mask the darkness within, a striking figure caught in a moment of vulnerability, yet still exuding an undeniable allure.
Shabbir began to blink his eyes, groaning as a sharp pain throbbed in his head from the effects of the drug. He struggled agaisnt the ropes binding him to the chair, his hands wriggling desperately to break free from their tight grip. After a few moments, he finally opened his eyes, but the men surrounding him appeared blurred and hazy. His entire body ached, his head pounded, and his hands burned agaisnt the rough ropes.
"Whe...where am I?", he stuttered glancing around the dimly lit room.
"In a party, wanna dance?", Haris replied sarcastically, striking a ridiculous Michael Jackson pose that made Shabbir role his eyes.
"Who are you guys?", Shabbir asked, his voice weak and shaky.
"We're the Mirza brothers", Zaid answered his tone proud and dominating as he stepped forward to stand directly in front of Shabbir. Shabbir lifted his head to meet Zaid's gaze.
"Ohh", Shabbir mumbled casually, rolling his eyes again, trying to play it cool despite the situation.
"What do you mean, ohh? You freaking asshole! How dare you try to kill my bhabhi?", Ibrahim shouted his anger boiling over as he threw a powerful punch at Shabbir's jaw. The impact made his head to tilt to the side.
"Shukar mana ke abhi mere haath bande hue hain, warna tujhe bhi teri bhabhi ke pass pahunchane mein der nahi karta", Shabbir seethed angrily his jaw clenched and his dark eyes shooting daggers at the Mirza brothers.
"Shut up, snow white!", Haris snapped, slapping Shabbir hard across the cheek.
"Yaar, kya socha hai kaise marna hai ise?" Ibrahim asked, looking at his brothers while rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veiny arms, flexing them as if he were preparing for a workout.
"Umm, how about a bullet straight to the head? What do you say?", Haris suggested, eyeing his handgun with a creepy, wide smile on his face.
"Nah, that's too painless", Zaid replied, shaking his head as he looked at Shabbir, who was watching them with dark, fearful eyes. "Why not bury him alive?", Zaid added with a sinister grin.
"Umm, that's way too common", Ibrahim said, dismissing the idea.
"Then what?", Haris and Zaid asked in unison, their curiosity piqued.
"Mmm, kyun na hum ise drum main dal de?", Ibrahim suggested, making Shabbir's eyes wide in horror.
"Haan...sahi keh raha hai tu! Waise bhi hamari company ka construction chal raha hai, kisi ko shak bhi nahi hoga", Haris agreed, his voice filled with excitement as he clapped his hands together.
"You fucking psychos! Let me go! Untie the ropes, NOW!", Shabbir yelled, panic rising in his voice as he started wriggling in the chair, desperate to escape.
"Nah, let me just bring the cement and drum", Ibrahim said with a grin, waking out of the room. A giggle escaping his lips as he glanced back at Shabbir's horrified expression, clearly enjoying the fear he was instilling.
As the door closed behind Mirza brothers, Shabbir's heart raced. He was trapped, surrounded by men who seemed to take pleasure in his suffering. He knew he had to think fast if he wanted to escape this nightmare.
______________________________________________
Mujhe aap logon se yahi puchna tha ke . . . . . . . . . . Story title and cover pehle wala thik tha ya yeh wala 🤔
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
