Mera Hero

12. The Language of Torture

NOTE: Unedited

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"...there......"

"No.........too......gentle......"

"...her......up..."

"...can't......been...trying......she...won't..."

"Hey!......see? Hey!...hey!"

A series of harsh and direct impacts to both my cheeks jolted me awake. My hung head teetered to the side until a rush of adrenaline coursed through my body and launched it upright. At first, my vision consisted of blurred lines and fuzzy looking bodies but soon cleared to show a dimly lit room with the fuzzy bodies morphing into three brute men. Three familiar brute men. One standing dangerously close to me in a split second, hunching over to look me in the eye. My heartbeat quickened greatly and I gulped in fearsome breaths from my nostrils, backing away as much I could from the now unmasked individual.

My naked feet skidded against the frigid concrete ground and my cries of terror were muffled by a rag wadded between my teeth and tied behind my head. My slightly fogged gaze bounced down my entire body and I writhed around in the seat I was bound to, feeling my wrists being deeply grazed by what I best guessed was twine or rope. I couldn't move no matter how hard I tried. Thrashing, jumping, rocking—nothing helped. I was tied. My entire body was. I felt constricted, and a helpless whimper left my mouth, even though it could barley be heard. How was I ever going to get out of this? I tried screaming and kept at it until my throat went dry and coarse, to the point it felt like I might've ruptured something inside it. It was no use. My own cries were too weak to be heard. It was hindered by the rag tucked in my mouth.

A deliberate and devious laugh sounded. I snapped my gaze up, only watching, eerily still. It was coming from one of the men leaning against a rusted table, his hands clasped together over his huge belly. I couldn't make out his face at the moment, since it was shadowed by the lack of light, but the picture was still engraved in my head. It hadn't left since. I remembered his face so vividly. His chest rumbled from his guffaws, and soon the other two men had joined in, raking all four of their eyes up and down my helpless state. While their laughs enveloped the air, I tried to make out where the hell I was. It seemed like an abandoned warehouse from the looks of the smashed-in walls and half-broken pillars. Pieces upon pieces of concrete and glass were scattered all over the ground by the few window frames on each side. Some of the metal beams lacing the roof seemed to have missing bolts and were also similarly rusted like the table that one of the men had been leaning on. Speaking of him, my gaze retreated back to the figure, finally gaining full sight of his despicable face as he stepped out of the shadows, sporting a wide grin. His mere presence frightened me, as the image of him and his followers executing people flashed before me.

They were all pleasantly enjoying my discomfiture, grinning like the little pieces of shit they all were.

"You can't escape you know," he finally spoke, folding his burly arms over his chest while widening his stance. He stopped a metre or two away from me. His grin stretched more than ever possible. "No matter how hard you try," he nodded to the other man who had been idling by to my right. "Cavich."

"Sure thing boss," the man known as Cavich spoke, fastening towards me before yanking the fabric out of my mouth abrasively. He quickly pulled out a knife from nowhere and latched it right under my chin, over the material of my hijab. I could still feel the coolness of the blade seeping through and contacting with the skin of my neck. I battled against his touch, throwing my head to the side as far away from him as possible. If I moved too much, I could've potentially nicked myself. "Don't even think about screaming or I'll make sure you won't even have the means to. Got it?"