confiscated unusually

Wits

I woke up too late rubbing my left cheek barely, yawned and refreshed for another day. After getting dressed I moved downstairs for some coffee, I was exactly in need for some. I found myself paused at some point whence I heard anti Mahjabeen and Tahir chacha sobbing, with my ma and dad calming them up. I froze. What could've been happened? Was that something relating Ana!?, I'd listened them mentioning her name at some point as well. I scooped inside in amazement, headed a look of sympathy upon them. I didn't find it casual to ask what they were bearing sorrow for unless chacha came hugged me, pardoned me, and started sobbing again pulling me so close. His mouth was on my shoulder where my shirt was getting wet from his tears, I patted his shoulders as I couldn't resist but asked.

"What's wrong chacha?", with sympathy I asked him.

"Ana! my li'l girl! gone!", with an impatience cry, he managed these words out of him.

"gone?", I gasped.

"kidnapped! She went for a meeting with some of her friends yesterday and hasn't returned yet. We too tried on making a report where the police thinks it as being kidnapped."

I was unable to tolerate his words, it was exactly too much. After all what may come, I'd decided to not believe my chacha's words.

I motioned him to stop, and at every cost avoided eye contact with every one as I moved out of the lounge.

*___*___*___*

"What has sounded you, may sound me,

Before and after I was here,

In downtown, in whilst of treasure,

Where the pleasure is all mine,

You may not but let me come,

In the doors close to your heart,

Mention me or mention me not,

For I was all here,

For I was all here."

I had just woken up in that dark dusty room, AHH Sweden!, there was nothing I'd once thought of, inspite I couldn't blame Sweden exactly for this, as I was in this cave like room with nothing Swedish, after all I knew what this place was.

I'd ventured myself on plane, a thought was teasing me at some point that I was taking side of those cruel kidnappers, I knew what that was for, I knew. I'd just lisened about Stockholm Syndrome in movies and read about that in books, but had never thought of myself getting imprisoned in that thing. I slowly motioned towards the dazed window, the city was below me, I started reciting my poetry I'd once wrote. I Alhamdulillah was too good at writing poetry.