Dangerous Territory [Completed]

4. Men's Salon

I dozed off at one point, and for the first time in a long time I had a dream. Staring up at the unplastered ceiling later when I woke up, I couldn't shrug the recurring images of my childhood that had made an appearance in my dream, though with a little bit of temperaments. I was crying like I was crazy, begging Uncle to not leave as he wept asking me to let him go. Even though the actual events went nothing like that, for nobody had cried, nobody had shed a single tear. What I found hard to believe was the fact that I saw none of it coming, in spite of me being that child of a family that keeps tabs on every little thing and every single person, I had no idea Uncle wanted to leave. I obviously dropped that annoying habit when I grew up and instead had my mind cluttered with things that concerned only my own being. It was more fun that way.

Fun that I was now witnessing dangling on the edge, tethered loosely on the weakest thread of luck. Regardless of how this horrifying episode of my life would come to an end, I was sure devastation was sure to come either way. Because I still couldn't accept that it was night all over again, the sun had disappeared into the horizon and Father hadn't signed the papers and brought me back home. Why did he have to think? What was there to think? Was I really less important to him that he had to think before giving up half his wealth to save me?

I shut my eyes, my breathing heavy, my chest rising and falling, falling and rising. The floor was hard and it was a wonder I had been able to sleep for those few hours, even though for all my life I had never lied on the floor ever before.

I heard the door creak, heard footsteps and then someone shouted at the top of their lungs, my head pounded at the noise. It sounded like Shareef.

"BOSS!"

Squeezing my eyes even more as if that would take the ache away, I brought a hand to my forehead and found it burning. Shit.

Another pair of footsteps sounded through the ground and then I heard his voice.

"Why didn't you eat?"

It took a lot of will power and effort to open my mouth and voice the words. I wasn't particularly feeling very chatty right now. "I don't want to." I muttered with my eyes still closed.

"You said you were hungry."

"I am."

"Then eat!"

"You don't care. Don't waste your breath. Just leave."

There was silence for a moment, and I thought he had gone, but then I didn't hear the receding footsteps. It meant he was still there. What did he want?

"I told you he holds no value for breathing people. It's the money that he loves."

A lump formed in my throat and even though snarky comments swarmed in my mind, I chose to remain silent, because if I didn't I feared I would have choked on my words. Shifting sides, I turned my back at him and brushed the tear rolling down my cheek. I was burning everywhere.

Luckily, he took his cue and left the room. I didn't turn my neck to see if he had locked the door, I was fatigued enough that the mere idea of having to run exhausted me out.

---

I counted the minutes on my fingers, counted the moments of night peel off and counted the moments when the sun took cover. Every muscle in my body hurt because of the fever, and my head felt like being pressed under a weight. Opening my eyes, I got up and scooted towards the wall by the window. As I pulled my knees up, I realized with a sudden desperation that I needed to pee. Wondering if both men were still here I prayed for them to come to check on me quickly, before I had to give in.

The wait was the worst moments of absolute torture and distress I had ever went through. When finally Shareef sauntered in, I immediately spoke in the best possible loud voice I could muster, before he could have opened his own mouth.

"What?" He made a face, eyeing me askew as if I had asked for something unusual.

"I want to use a washroom." I enunciated every word carefully.

"BOSS!" Looking at the door he barked.

I felt like groaning. Why did he have to call him for every little thing? That guy was simply too good looking and insufferable for me to be comfortable around.

Resting my head against the wall, I waited anxiously for him to come and stared at the cracks in the ceiling and with a start realized I had missed college for two successive days. Devastation for me was either way, whether I made it out alive or not. With my mental health and my relationship with my father, now my future was at stake too. I doubt they'd let me sit in the exam. I didn't want to sit in the exam underprepared anyway.

"What is it?" He demanded as he walked into the room.

Bringing my gaze down at him, I repeated my predicament. Appearing a little uncertain, he looked away in clear discomfort and I wondered if he was embarrassed.

Keeping a straight face, I stared at him blandly. "You should have thought about the little things before holding me like this."

A muscle in his cheek visibly twitched. He turned to Shareef and said in a clearly vexed voice. "Go ask around the shops below if they have a washroom."

"Yes boss." With an energetic nod, Shareef hurried out the room.

"You should eat something." He said, turning back to look at me.

I shifted my eyes to the door instead and remained quiet.

He stood there regarding me for a couple of seconds before finally walking away to the other corner of the room.

---

Thankfully there was one in a men's salon. Walking through the sidewalk, I looked around the colorful shops, the assortment of vehicles on a single street and the hub of pedestrians going about the day, and tried to recognize the area. My mind, it seemed, was too focused on relieving myself of the pressure because I gave up in a second, not able to rake my mind for too long. Several eyes grazed my figure as I entered with the boss guy into the salon and walked to the little door at the far corner.

When I came back out, even though I had never found such blissful relief in my life before, I felt a little dizzy. The headache and the fever surged back into my senses, and so did the hunger. Taking small, uneven steps, vision a little blurred by the recurring moisture in my eyes, I followed the boss out of the salon and back to the street. I sensed him glancing at me every now and then, but he didn't ask if something was wrong, neither did he tell me to eat again. Strangely, I wished he would.

The climb up the stairs further enervated me, pulling the last reserves of energy I had left, exhausted as I was. Back in the room, I pressed my palm against the wall by the door for support, dragging air into my lungs. The floor was spinning, and darkness was sprouting from the corners of my eyes.

The boss guy said something, but I couldn't focus on his words. As I sensed him come closer, I turned to face him, and saw two faces instead of one. Before darkness took cover, I saw myself falling in his arms.