Attraction

CHAPTER 28

Roshanay's whole form quivered with utter dread. Her puzzled mind pushed into a state of dilemma. Whether it was the shock or the fear which wasn't letting her move from her position. The horrors of the scene unfolding infront of her, finding their way in some deep pit of memories in her mind. Her paled face depicted her inner turmoil of how the terror has completely paralyzed her. 

This scene was almost like a deja-vu. In the same dark basement, stood infront of her, in all his glory, Moosa, holding a dagger in his hands. His eyes bloodshot red. His face so concentrated, eyes entirely fixed on the task he was performing as if it was a source of dopamine for his mind.

He was relentless. Merciless.

She witnessed an anger-an angst in him which made him much scarier than the last time in the same state. He wasn't stopping. As if the dark whispers of devil in his ears were propelling him, instigating him to dwell on more towards the darkness as with each elapsing second, the dagger pierced deeper and intenser than the previous time in the man's flesh. 

But Moosa was nowhere near to stop. 

Today was the third day. 

Third day of torture for that man whose name apparently was Noufal. 

In the span of these three days, Roshanay's life turned upside down. Days were spent in the anticipation if night and when the night would appear in the sky, a terror would jab at her heart. 

She begged.

Begged him not to make her witness this torture. 

But he didn't pay a heed. 

As if someone possessed him. 

As if it wasn't the same Moosa for whom her heart was becoming softer. 

He was someone else. 

Each night Moosa left the man on the brink of death, giving him enough pain that he would writhe in pain over the night but wouldn't die. 

The man was now begging Moosa to kill him. If not for the binds which restrained his limbs, he would have joined hands infront of Moosa to let him free from the torture. 

His eyes were pouring out helpless tears. Since, his tongue lied somewhere on the floor, making him unable to speak, he only produced helpless voices out of his mouth whenever Moosa neared him, trying to push back the chair on which he was bound and create as much distance as he could between him and Moosa but to no avail. His eyes glistening with tears. Tears of pure helplessness. The helpless that would make your heart bleed and if in your capacity, your eyes would pour out tears of blood. 

That man carried the same helplessness, the same agony in his heart but Moosa's mercy didn't befell on him. 

As of now, Moosa was slowly and painfully cutting the fingers of his hands. The eyes of the man closed tightly, head towards the roof and tongue-less mouth opened and wailing, producing incoherent sounds, crying and wailing. 

Moosa cut another finger of his hands when the man's screams renewed. Tears filled Roshanay's eyes. Her mind was not habitual to this type of violence. Anxiety accumulating in the pit of her heart making her breathless. 

"Moosa," Roshanay whispered, breaking Moosa's trance who was so invested in performing his treasured task. The evil glint in his brown eyes dissipated as he moved his head towards Roshanay who stood in the corner of the cell, shaking like a leaf. 

"Jaan-e-Moosa," he responded, placing the bloodied knife on the table and turning towards her, giving her, his undivided attention as if the man behind didn't exist.