Morphine

three : combat skills

It has been one week since Bansik ruined my jaw action. My body’s healing rate isn’t very pleasing, but the pain seems to be subsiding diminutively. Either that or the long-awaited immunity has finally overtaken me.  

My stomach isn’t happy either. Food intake is nearly impossible. If I had passed out anytime, I didn’t notice. I am still lying in the same spot as if I'm paralysed. 

Bansik’s absence is really helping. But that's strange and an unhealthy curiosity sparks in me. I should be rejoicing, internally, rather than pondering and waiting for his arrival which I will surely dread later.  

When the door opens noisily, I don’t even bother looking. I stare at my wall which stuck with me long enough to be known as ‘my wall’.  It's not Bansik; his footsteps would have announced his approach.  

It's probably food. They push in a plate of food every thrice a week and come back in around twenty minutes to retrieve the plate. They're probably afraid that I'll bang my head with the plate and kill myself. No. They won’t let me do that. They want me alive and vulnerable. But for what?  

The clatter of a steel plate sliding across the floor confirms that it isn’t him but one of his buddies delivering food that I expect they all know I can't eat. But the familiar click of the lock sounding goes unheard. Quickly, I turn to look at the door. It remains unlocked. The gap between the door and the wall is clearly noticeable.

 That's odd.  

These people are professionals. Otherwise my family would have found me by now. They can’t have possibly forgotten to lock the door. Or maybe that is it. Their routine is so boring that they might have let down their guard for a moment and didn’t pay full attention to their work.  

And if I don’t take advantage of that, then I will be a fool who will eventually and inevitably die painfully.

 ****

Walking up to the opened door is like trekking a mountain. I peek out slowly, holding on to the door with one hand while my other hand holds the empty plate. The hallway is deserted.  I don't exactly know what my plan is now. Am I expecting the place to be empty and waiting for me to escape? Or can I simply waltz out like it was no one’s business? Obviously not. I have no plan.  

But I take a step out anyway. The hallway is dark, the only source of light being from the end of the hallway from an adjacent room. Even though it's killing my muscles, I tiptoe towards the light. Behind me, it's a dead end. As I slink forward, I notice similar metal doors towards my right.  

Shuddering, I wonder how many more people are being held hostage by this monster. These walls could be sound proof. Who knows?  

The room seems to be empty. The television is switched on, in front of which a mat is spread out. It holds a whisky bottle and a plate of half eaten chicken fry. Someone was here and they are going to be back.  

The room is unorganized. Well, clearly. Kidnappers are not bent on hiring expensive interior designers to brighten up their hideout with colourful cushions and fancy curtains. Crates, some broken and some sealed are lying around. I see no sofas or anything. The room looks pretty dull. The lights barely reach the corners. None of that is my problem, though. I start looking around for a way out.

Beside the TV is the door. I head in that direction. Just when I decide to make an exit, I hear someone humming. It sounds so good. I hadn’t heard any form of music since forever. I quickly hide behind the door.  

Two tall, burly men enter the room putting me in a bit of a dilemma. So, I have to fight them? No problem. But two of them at once? I have to try.   

Jumping out from behind the door when the first man enters, I get ready to strike. Before either of them could register that I was out and in front of them, my hand, still clutching the steel plate, swings at the first man’s head. Hard. He seems to go dizzy for a second. I grab the opportunity and kick him hard in the gut pushing him backwards out the door.  

All my body pain goes unnoticeable. If I concentrate on the pain, then I’d never get out. Willing myself to forget it, I prepare myself for more.  

The first man falls on top of the second. He lies there for some time. Pushing the first man off himself, the second man dives at me. I dodge him and hit him at the back of his head. But he's too quick for that. Catching my hand in a firm grip, he twists my arm making me scream as loud as ever. He pulls me closer and whispers, “You are never leaving.”  

That did it. He has no control over that. I do. 

Stomping on his foot, I rid myself of his hold. Without thinking further, I lunge at him again with that plate. But before it makes contact with his skull, I am being lifted and thrown by the second man.  

The TV goes down with me. It hurt everywhere, but I ignore it. They advance on me with devilish smirks. I crawl out from under the broken TV pieces. Grabbing hold of the whisky bottle, I jump up and break it against the first man’s head. He doesn't even flinch. 

I try to punch the second one, but the first one has his arms around me, chocking me. I push myself and him backwards till we reach the wall. I take a few steps forward again and then smash him against the wall.  

His hold on me loosens and I dart forward ready to attack the second man. I have no weapon, so I'm forced to use my body. Throwing myself at him, I knock him down. I pin his hands down with all the strength I have. My estimation is that I have about ten seconds before the first man Is back.  

Ten seconds was all I had to make this man unconscious. I punch him. I let all the anger, the pain, the desperation flow out of me in the form of power. My fist makes contact with his nose, jaw and temple many times. As a fruitful result, he goes unconscious and limp. Seeing the blood on his face streaming down his neck makes me sick. I wipe my hands on his clothes.  

Ten seconds up. Someone lifts me into the air again. The first man squeezes my stomach from behind with one hand, and winds his other arm around my neck. I'm choking. Flailing my arms and legs around I try to find any part of him that I can hit.  

I think I poked his eye. He drops me to the floor. Supporting my elbow on a nearby crate, I pull myself up and twist my legs around his neck. I twist as hard as I can. My thigh and calves hurt, but I am in no position to bother about that. His face is becoming red with his eyes shut, his hands grappling around to get a piece of me. He groans loudly.  

Looking over my shoulder at the unconscious man, a grin spreads across my face. He remains insensate. Diverting my attention back to the man who was in front of me, I notice his face turning blue. Unwinding my legs, I spring back up.  

This is exhilarating. I feel wonderful and for once in my entire life, I am in charge. I think I even throw back my head and laugh aloud. Instantly the first man’s grunting brings me back to my senses.  

I kick him hard at his sides, over and over again until he's clutching his stomach and grumbling in pain.

Pulling out the unconscious man’s wallet, I check for money. Should I take just the money or the whole wallet?  

Definitely the whole wallet.

I walk out of the now-stinking room proud of my newfound combat skills.

*gasps* What's going to happen now?
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-Nymisha