I sat there, bound to the chair in what felt like an eternity. The construction site surrounding me was enveloped in pitch darkness, yet I could identify the sharp scent of paint mingling with the heavy odor of cement being laid down as the part of the on going work.
Attempting to shift my body on the chair, I heard a creeking sound as it bent dangerously to one side in response to my efforts to escape. Every muscle in my body screamed with soreness; my wrists throbbed painfully from the ropes digging into them, while my thighs felt immovable, almost as if they had been rendered paralyzed.
My throat was dry and a persistent heaviness gripped my chest, making each breath a laborious endeavor. Sweat trickled down my spine as I fought against the oppressive heat that clung at me. Taking a deep breath, I tried pushing against the constraints of the chair, struggling to move forward despite the overwhelming darkness that amplified my feelings of vulnerability and helplessness.
I couldn't afford to be weak --- not again. The memory of what I suffered for allowing myself to be vulnerable haunted me; this time would be different. The chair refused to cooperate with my frantic movements. It remained stubbornly still when all I wanted was freedom from its grasp.
All I wanted was to free my arms---- I needed to show them who Shabbir Ali Khan truly was. Ignoring the discomfort coursing through me, I edged further into a corner of that oppressive darkness, desperate for any sharp object that might offer a means to sever the ropes binding my wrists.
I turned my legs, which felt too heavy to move, but I pushed through and did it anyway. My breathing was heavy as I turned the chair to the left and spotted some construction tools piled in a corner.
A small smile formed on my face at the sight. In my excitement, I hurriedly dragged the chair with me, but I lost my balance and fell off, letting out a groan of pain as I hit the floor with a thud. The cold surface made my head ache and sent goosebumps across my skin, but I didn't let that stop me.
I kept pulling myself along the ground, feeling my clothes scrape against it and my skin start to burn and bruise. Despite the pain, I was determined to reach the tools.
"You can do it, Shabbir, you can do it", I encouraged myself as I moved closer to the hammers, back saw, chainsaw, testers, scissors and many other tools waiting for me. Each inch I pulled myself forward felt like a small victory, and I focused on the goal ahead, pushing through the discomfort. I knew I had to keep going, no matter how hard it was.
I tried to wiggle in the chair, but the duct tape on my mouth made it hard for me to make any sounds. The ropes around my wrists burned and my ankles were numb. I jerked my head back, hoping to hit the floor and break free. But all I got was a throbbing head and a shaky breath. Suddenly, I heard someone coming towards me. I recognised the clicking of the shoes belonging to Shahmeer Mirza.
"Trying to escape?", he asked with a smirk. I lifted my head, my messy hair blocking my vision. Blood dripped down my face, the mettalic smell making me sick. "You know, I could kill you right now. There's no one here, not a single soul", he said as he bent down, covering my mouth with his hand and forcefully pulling off the duct tape, causing me to hiss.
"You can't kill me", I whispered my voice barely audible as my throat stung.
"Don't be so sure. I'll make you suffer a slow and painful death, until you beg for me to end it all", he threatened running his fingers through my hair and yanking me across the room, my body scraping against the concrete floor.
"Ow, that hurts!", I cried out in pain as my scalp throbbed from being pulled so roughly.
He pushed me into a corner with such force that the chair I was tied to broke and it's jagged edges dug into my arm.
"Ha, this is what I've been waiting for", he chuckled turning on the light above us. The sudden brightness caused me to squint and close my eyes in discomfort. "I've been dying to see you suffer like this", he taunted as he moved closer to me.
"Main tadap raha tha tumhe aise dekhne, vulnerable and broken, at my mercy", he spoke with a rough voice, his fists clenched and his jaw tight.
"Why, do you have some kind of pain kink?", I asked playfully, but my body throbbed.
"Well, yeah I do", he replied with a cheeky grin, "I love watching people suffer at my hands" before throwing kicks at my stomach, causing me to curl up on the floor.
"Teri himmat kaise hui meri biwi ko chune ki? Teri himmat kaise hui use chont pahunchane ki, hmm", he yelled in my face, pulling my hair violently. I coughed up blood in response. His punches and kicks were brutal, like he was trying to kill me.
But I didn't ask for mercy. I never beg or ask for mercy because I don't believe in it. Men don't beg, they fight, they survive, they win.
"Saale", I laughed, provoking him to kick and punch even harder.
"Bewa banana chahta ho apni behen ko?", I asked firmly, my face turning to meet his angry gaze.
"Kya? Kya kaha tune?", he questioned, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"Saale saab, Maine pucha Kya aap apni behen ko bewa banana chahte hai?", I repeated, to which he seethed in anger.
"Kya bakwas kar rahe ho tum", he shouted as he removed gun from his hollister and shot on my knee, the sound of bullet echoed in the air. I clenched my jaw, trying to hold back the pains of moan.
"Ab nahi bolna, haa, ab bolti band, bolna, bol, kyun chup hai?", he mocked pressing the gun against my head and titling his head back challenging me with his gaze.
"Saa--", I choked on blood as a bullet hit my chest, causing excruciating pain.
I could feel my body screaming for mercy, dying from the gun shot. My eyes were struggling to stay open, but I refused to let them close. I was fighting hard to stay alive. My mind started drifting and I saw my mom---my mom, my ammi, standing in front of me. She had her beautiful smile and loving eyes, looking at me like I was her whole world.
She reached her hand out, beckoning me. "Mama", I whispered, reaching out my hand weakly towards her.
I missed ammi so much. I missed her every day, every second, every hour, I just can't stop thinking about her. Tears started rolling down my face as I struggled to reach out and hold her hand. "Ammi", I whisper through the pain, "I'm coming to you, mama. Your Shabbir is on his way". Even though I was feeling weak and numb, I can't help but smile at the thought of seeing her again. She was whole world, she was my safe place in that hell.
"I promise mama, I'm coming", darkness consumed me.
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