Chapter 2: Brick Walls
With a pounding head but a steady heart, I opened my eyes as if lifting a weight off of them. Immediately I felt a tightening around my mouth as pain shot up my jaw. I tried to move my hands but winced with a loud hiss, finding them jammed. My back was stiff and ached against the pillar I was tied to, and my legs hurt from being bent at odd angles. In vain, I tried to make a sound but all that came out of my mouth was a gurgle.
It was a brightly lit room, sunlight was bursting in from the open spaces in the brick walls where windows were supposed to be. I squinted my eyes, light burning in my vision. It looked like an under construction building and it looked like I was above the ground for all I could see from the distance where I was, was the clear blue, cloudless sky.
My heartbeat had accelerated and blood was pounding in my ears. The sun had come up, I was away from home all night. This was bad. Very bad. Father and Bisma would be worried, they would have reported to the police. As I blinked rapidly to brush the moisture away, my stomach gave a lurch and isssued a loud growl.
Okay, I was hungry. Crying would do me no good and there was nobody in sight. I had to keep my nerves under control. I tried to breathe, slow and relaxed, but on the third try a gasp escaped my mouth.
Please Allah, save me.
And then I heard some voices. Someone was approaching. I tried to crane my neck to see but of course, I couldn't move.
From my right, a short skinny man with spindly hairy legs appeared wearing baggy shorts. I looked up at him, fear dancing in my eyes, and upon finding me awake his face lit up. As the man grinned I saw that his teeth were stained red, and realised that he had made no effort to conceal his identiy.
"Boss, she's awake!" He shouted somewhere towards my back, eyes glinting with glee. Turning his attention back on me, he knelt down and bringing a finger close to my face, he muttered. "Aren't you a true haseena, jan." My heart slammed against my chest as his finger brushed my cheek, but before he could have proceeded, a loud voice erupted in the skeleton of the building.
"Hey, back off!"
And the man immediately scurried off, stuttering an apology.
"I thought I made myself clear what we're here for."
The speaker was standing at the edge of my periphery so I couldn't yet see who it was. Though the voice sounded young.
"Yes-yes boss." The man, now standing by the window spaces, sunlight washing over him, stammered with an energetic nod of his head.
"Bring me a chair." The voice said tersely and then he stepped forward and stopped right in front of me. I looked up and to my utmost surprise it was a young man, quite well groomed, cladded in khakhi pants and a white button down. He looked a couple of years older than me.
My heart slowed down and a little relief seeped in as I realised it was just all for ransom, and no more. They'll let me go. Theyll let me go.
When the stout man hurried back with the chair and placed it a few feet in front of me, the Boss told him to untie the ropes that kept me tethered. "Didn't I not make myself clear that I didnot want her tied up?"
With a bowed head, the man approached me, opened the knot around my hands, I immediately flexed my fingers, and then he moved to my legs. As he worked on the ropes, I pulled the cloth down from my mouth, pulling air into my lungs, the corners of my mouth burning. As the knots came loose, I stretched my legs and backed against the pillar and settled my gaze on the guy, hard and unflinching. He had a shock of silk jet black hair combed into a parting, falling on the ears, bangs of it covered a little of his forhead, oddly similar to the ones the guys have in animes. Bilal loved the cartoons. His features were sharp, quite arrogant, and he regarded me with nothing but cold indifference, from where he sat on the chair. For a fleeting moment I thought he looked familiar.
"Call your father." He said, his voice flat and offered me his phone. I immediately took it and dialed my father's number, taking the screen to my ear.
He picked up on the first ring. He must have been waiting. "Hello." His worried voice streamed through the speakers. My heart welled up.
"Abba."
"Oh Allah," he breathed, "Mashal jan where are you? Are you alright?"
"Abba, the-" I trialed off when the guy held out his hand, palm up, asking for the phone. Quietly, I returned it back.
Placing the phone against his ear, he said into the reciever, his voice stinging and scornful. "Sahir Niazi. How are you?" Then suddenly he took the phone down, and turned on the speaker.
"How much do you want?" I heard my father over the static.
"The amount is too much. I want you to sit back and consider the situation thoroughly. What is more important for you: your money, or your daughter. Becuase judging by your past experience Sahir Niazi, I'd deduce you have less respect for relations than you have for money. Now, are you sure you're up for it."
He said while staring at a blind spot behind my back.
"Who is it?! Who are you?"
"Doesn't matter. But if you want your daughter alive, sign the papers I send you immediately. There's a man waiting for my call near your house, he will make sure the documents reach your doorstep. Don't try to act smart, I used a courier service."
"What papers? What is this all about?"
"Sahir Niazi, by signing them you'd be handing over half of your fortune to me." The corner of his lips slightly arched up, cynical and mocking.
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