Storm's Silence

3. Unbelievable!

haven--, oh! What would I have done without you? :)

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I was an eighteen year old then, terrified and fed up with life. The past few years of my life were terrible, I didn't know how had I survived them. I was thrown out of my house, without money, food and shelter. What I had worn the day was the only thing I had worn for the past few years. I had long hair, reaching past my lower back.

I still felt a prick in my heart whenever I thought about my family. I was kicked from here to there. Where all I had was love earlier, now I heard only curses. I never wanted to go back home. I wanted to prove myself. But how could I ? Hopelessness was all I felt at that time.

I hated everything, everyone. The only company I had was that of two street dogs, whom I had befriended, and who looked as desolate as I did.

I didn't know where to start from, what to do.

One day, as I was wandering through the streets of London, hungry and tired, some people, much stronger than a weak boy like me, kidnapped me. I struggled but I was too weak to get away from my kidnappers.

Of what I remember, I was next thrown in a dungeon.

It was dark inside, no windows to let any light in. They pushed me inside and I was thrown on the ground. I was sure that my knees were bruised but I had no energy left to get up.

I was suddenly aware of a presence in the cell, and I turned my face to look at him.

Huge. Strong. Ferocious.

Vibes of power radiated off of him.
That was all I could see and feel about him. He was elder to me.

An involuntary shudder ran through me as I took in his hard and ferocious features. He had a long beard, dark skin, fiery eyes, strong and hard muscles.

And I could see all of it, even in the dark.

He was wearing a turban and a kind of robe I hadn't seen anywhere. One thing was sure, he didn't belong to this country.

He was looking at me, an indecipherable look in his eyes and another shudder ran through me.

Then, I fell unconscious on the ground.

The next day, when I woke up, I was lying on the ground. He was sitting in front of me, and held up a candle near him.

I looked up at him and I saw vulnerability and hopelessness in his eyes.

'Who are you?' I croaked. My throat was so dry it itched.

He stood up and a few moments later came back with a little cup in his hand. It had water in it and I gulped it in one go.

'Karim,' he said, his voice deep and dangerous. Then he pointed at me.

'Rikkard, I am Rikkard Ambrose,' I said.

'Where have you come from?' I asked him.

Even though I had realised that he didn't understand a word in English, still I felt an understanding between us.

'Hindustan,' he said.

I tried to rack my brains in order to get an idea which country it was. But came up with none.

'India,' he said as he saw my confused expression.

Days passed by and slowly I taught him English. He was a quick learner.