She Returned (Part 1)

At a Ranch, off East-West Road, James Town

It was a hot crazy day. Filth, dust and dungs reeking in the air. Unsettling cloud, flirting, threatening rain storm, raising whirlwind. Christen was dying. She was drenched in sweat and an unbearable pains. Her mouth bruised
and gagged, with blisters growing like mushroom. Her throat, dry and bitter, hardly swallow anything. Her eyes had sunken into her bulging, aching head. Her shrunk body riddled by insect bites was shivering in torn tattered clothes stained by mud and blood. Her shaky legs were swollen. One had a sore ankle. While the other was still inside a pink sock. Her reminder of the graduation party she had missed some weeks ago.
"Go away! Get off me," she murmured, unable to fight off the weight on her. She pushed, pushed but her tied hands could do less. Then he grunted and came down, staggered to a corner, and zipped up.
They were in a tool room. It had a little wooden door and two small windows covered with zinc. The old peeled walls were high and infested by molds, creeping plants and insects. The roof, supported by rust metal poles, had ripped out. And were flapping and clanging in the wind.
He picked a pack, and threw it toward her. She crawled forward hurriedly. And fell. And couldn't move further. He came close, kicked the pack at her. Still she couldn't move. He stooped, and untied her hands. She removed the gag on her mouth, leaving intact the long chain on her waist that was locked to a pole.
She waited a while to catch some breath. Then she grabbed the pack. A bottle of water and a fingerlike baked bun dropped out. She snatched it, took a quick bite. And spat it out immediately. It was slimy, stale and tasteless. She gulped a little water. Her tummy churned and rumbled. Then she threw up.
Her abductor hollered, and kicked her face.
"Dirty girl. It's my money you threw up. Damn!"
She cringed, and reclined on the wall. She would lose the baby, she thought, holding her tummy.
He retied her hands.Gagged her mouth. And staggered out of the room. Few minutes later, he blocked the door with a heavy wooden wedge. And walked away unsteadily toward the East-West Road. Later he got a free ride back to the town. At 6.30 pm he reached front door of his lush mansion like he did every other day, smiling and waving at his neighbours.
Christen curled up, waited until she was sure he had left. She picked a dung. And marked a tiny stroke on the wall behind her, the 52nd line. A new day would soon come, she thought, hoping her dad would reach her soon.


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9th Sept, 2019