Drugged Love (On Hold)

Chapter Sixteen, Part One

Ishan's blood froze as he saw through his one good eye the gun pressed to Karan's forehead. Karan had raised his arms without hesitation and already started to back off from Ishan. The crowd watched, many open mouthed faces and stressed expressions among it, as Zakir slid the gun back into his pants.

Everyone anticipated what would he do next? Zakir's calm demeanor was reassuring for Ishan but everyone else in the room was scared to move an inch. They wondered if they should just leave or wait for Zakir to say something.

The man with the gun held the whip.

Ishan's breathing rate came back to normal and Karan was still shaking and having a hard time looking up to meet anyone's eyes.

"Everyone go home! Party's over" Zakir's cold ruthless voice fell upon everyone's ears and people started swarming out slowly. Ishan gathered himself and stood up. He could feel the swelling around his bleeding lips.

He started to move out, not sure how he'd face his parents with his swollen and bruised face.

"Not you, Ishan!"

He turned around, and Zakir pointed him to sit on the couch. He complied holding his jaw which still hurt a little from the stream of punches Karan had thrown at him.

Zakir rushed inside and brought a wooden box which he threw distastefully at Zakir's side.

"Apply something on your face. You still need to make those deliveries,"Zakir said. His tone suggested that he was not in the mood to argue on this matter.

Ishan searched his way through the first-box and cleaned his wounds with antiseptics and cotton and applied bandages on the various cuts. He saw his reflection on his cellphone's screen. The excuse that he'd fell down from the stairs didn't seem believable at all.

Zakir returned with two big packages. "The next time you engage in a fistfight look at the other person's size."

"He was as asshole." Ishan said surprising himself with his anger.

"You have to protect yourself. You are important for me. If I hadn't come he would have beaten you unconscious,"Zakir said making a failed attempt at sounding concerned.

"Yes, thank you "Ishan felt good by Zakir's sudden show of concern. But then again, he knew Zakir never showed emotion unless he had to gain something out of it.

"Now, "the cold business voice returned, "You know where to go. So better get going. You have to make these two deliveries today."

Ishan stuffed the packages into his bag and left. The December air hit his face like sharpened icicles and the back of his head pained miserably now that all the adrenaline had died down.

He was no stranger to pain. He'd had several fractures on hands and legs and continuous headaches during the summer to winter transition. Any other teenager would succumb to a minor injury, stay in bed all day, throw a tantrum and refuse to do anything. But Ishan had learned to be functional despite pain.

Fortunately, the two places were within walking distance of each other. He had figured he'd make the deliveries within an hour and return home and sleep on his bed. That way, he'd be able to avoid questions about his disfigured face from his mom and dad, and hopefully he'll be able to think about some excuse by morning, in his sleep.

He reached the first place by bus. It was shady compared to Myra's plush villa. Most of the buildings were under construction. Bricks, mortar, cement bags, heaps of iron bars lay throughout the the thin lane through which Ishan walked minding his steps. All kinds of sounds like drilling machines at works and hammers being used didn't do well for his headache. He cursed himself for agreeing to come here.

He got tired from walking in the labyrinth of half-built houses and abandoned buildings. He finally figured his destination.

32/H, Roma Colony.

The house was dingy, dark and unwelcoming. The gate was creaky and ajar. Ishan suspected it might disatach itself from its hinges with a gentle push. The yard was filled with the remnants of plants, the cold had sucked the life out of them. Ishan walked up to the door which led into the house. The eerie silence of this place was disturbing him. Her thought, if someone shouted for help at the top of their voice around here, not a single soul would be around to hear it. What an ideal place for murderers and drug addicts, he mused.

The doorbell was covered with cobwebs around it. What the hell, never mind!

He knocked on the door and waited.

A thin man with a bearded face and drooping shoulders opened the door. "Yes?" he said with a drowsy voice and inquisitive childlike eyes which stared at Ishan.

"Umm..."Ishan fumbled. Is this the right place? Would it be safe to tell this man that I am carrying huge amounts of drugs? He ran all the options in his head and chose the safest. "I'm here to make the delivery."

"Ohh then come in my boy", the man said enthusiastically welcoming him in as if to make up for the obnoxious nature of this place.

The house had no rooms in it. One big wide hallway with mattresses lying around two or three feet apart. It was dark except for the occasional light from lamps beside each matrix. There were people on each mattress. Beautiful faces, sunken and hollowed and full thick vibrant bodies, shrunken and sickly. Ishan could not figure out what this place was.

The man who greeted him at the door, came back with the envelope containing the money and handed it over to him. Ishan gave the package to him and asked, "What is this place?"

The man seemed astonished, "You don't know? It's a drug den."

"A what?"

"People come here to when they don't know what to do with themselves. You see that man there?" he pointed to a man sitting on one of the corners, injecting a syringe filled with heroin into his right arm.

"He comes from a very rich family. You know, like huge inheritance and shit. His wife left him. His kid died. He didn't know what to do with his life anymore. Someone told him about us and he came to us."

He continued, "And you see that woman there?" Ishan looked dumbfounded at a blonde woman, in a deep slumber with empty syringes lying all around her.

"She is from Russia. She killed a man here 20 fucking years ago. Her country revoked her passport. She can't go back now. After being on the run for 15 years she just gave up and came here."

"All the people here have some reason to be here. Their lives were shit outside. Here, they have heroin. They all pay for our services before joining and we take care of the rest."

Ishan was left shell shocked. "So these people are going to end up dyeing here? How will they ever quit their drugs after making it out?"

"Well, we just give them the amounts they need, just enough. And even if they end up getting addicted after moving out that's not our problem. That is a possibility they agree upon while joining."

What a sick place, Ishan thought and left after thanking the man for enlightening him.

He walked towards the next place slower, his steps becoming unsure and a bitter taste developing in his mouth.

_____________________________________________________________

Sorry for the late update people :) My exams are going on and I just got enough time to write one chapter. The next part is also on it's way.

Happy Reading!!!