Book 1 of Revenge Series 🎀
(On hold) for a month
Evan Malhotra with his mother Evara Gomes was stuck in a cell, they were locked there for 3 years. Evara didn't take any risk to escape as Evan was 1 month old when they were bought here.
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Punishment of female prisoners here means rape. It's horrifyingly normal in this place. I haven't been a victim for many days now, but being targeted again has become the central point of my escape plan. The authorities don't provide contraceptive pills to the female prisoners due to the cost, so they perform tubectomy to ensure none of the women get pregnant. I was spared only because I was already pregnant with Evan when they were doing the procedures.
The same female guard came to our cell. "Come here," she ordered. As per our plan, Evan hid immediately. I walked towards the guard, memorizing the key number on her keyring. She opened the door and led me out. This new area seemed recently renovated, likely for the general's arrival.
In the days leading up to this moment, I had carefully prepared my escape. The broken plate shard was a stroke of luck. I practiced hiding it within my hair bun, making sure it was secure but accessible. I knew that the slightest misstep could lead to discovery and death.
The shard itself was small, no larger than a finger, but sharp along one edge. I had spent hours sharpening it against the concrete floor of my cell, creating a weapon that could save our lives. My hair was my shield, the tight bun disguising the lethal object hidden within. I practiced removing it swiftly, knowing that hesitation could mean the difference between life and death.
They threw me to my knees in front of the general after some male guards ripped off all my clothes. Naked and vulnerable, I was left alone with him. The general dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand.
The general was a man of cruelty, known for his sadistic pleasures. His background was shrouded in mystery, but the stories whispered among the prisoners painted a chilling picture. He came from a lineage of military men, each more ruthless than the last. His father was a general before him, known for his brutal suppression of uprisings. The general had learned early on that power was to be wielded with an iron fist, and he took perverse pleasure in breaking those under his command.
He was meticulous and enjoyed the psychological torment of his prisoners. It was rumored he had personally overseen the tubectomies of the female prisoners, watching their expressions of pain and despair with a cold, clinical interest. His reputation was not just of a leader but of a monster who thrived on the suffering of others.
The general approached me with a cold, calculating smile. His reputation for cruelty was well-known among the prisoners. He was known to enjoy his power in the most sadistic ways possible. "Ah, so this is the defiant one," he said, lifting my chin with a rough hand. "You’ve been quite the troublemaker, haven't you?"
Anger surged through me, and I jerked my face away from his touch. His expression darkened with rage. "I see your spirit hasn’t been broken yet. No matter, I have ways to fix that."
He slapped me hard across the face, the force of the blow knocking me sideways. I tasted blood and felt the sting of tears in my eyes but held back any sound, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
The general roughly shoved me onto a bed, clearly intending to rape me. As he neared, I acted quickly, pulling out the broken piece of plate hidden under my false hair. With all my strength, I struck his head. The shard dug into his scalp, and he stumbled back, more stunned than hurt. He reached for his gun, but I was faster. I grabbed his hand and wrestled the weapon from his grasp, pulling the trigger and shooting him in the chest.
The sound of the gunshot echoed through the building. Guards rushed towards the room. Quickly, I took the key ring from the general's waist and hid behind a closet near the door. I threw on a T-shirt and trousers that were draped over a chair. As the guards burst in—fifteen, maybe twenty of them—I slipped out from behind the closet and locked the door behind me. They fired at the door, but I was already gone.
Alarms blared, and I knew the whole facility was now on high alert. I might not survive, but my priority was Evan's safety. I raced back to our cell, shouting, "Evan, run!" He jumped out from under the bed, and I hurriedly unlocked the door.
The facility was vast, a maze of corridors and cells designed to break the spirit of anyone confined within. But I had spent years here, and I knew every corner, every hidden passage. The guards' movements were predictable; their routines had become second nature to me.
As we ran, I mentally mapped out our route. The main exit was too risky, too heavily guarded. There was a lesser-known escape route through the old storage wing, an area seldom used except for emergencies. I had noticed the patterns of the guards, the times when they were less vigilant. This was our best chance.
"Evan, follow me closely," I whispered as we navigated the narrow, winding passages. The air was damp and musty, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the walls. I could hear the distant shouts of guards, their footsteps echoing as they searched for us.
We sprinted down the corridor. Fifteen years ago, the exit was at the left end of the cell block. Assuming no significant construction had taken place, there was a 90% chance it was still there. We had to swim to freedom once we escaped the building.
But things didn't go as planned. As we reached the door, a group of guards closed in, firing their weapons. I shielded Evan with my body while fumbling with the lock. Finally, the door opened. I scooped Evan into my arms and ran into the dense forest outside.
We bolted through the thick woods, branches scratching our skin, until we reached the island's opposite shore. There, a motorboat lay moored. I placed Evan on the boat and climbed in after him. The guards were relentless and fast. They reached the shore and started shooting at us. I checked the gun—only four bullets left.
"Evan, look here," I instructed, showing him the controls. "This is the speed button, and this is the brake. Hold the handles steady and go straight until you reach land." “Mumma what is land?” He asked, he’s never been out in his fifteen years of lifetime. “You see these, I said pointing at the sand, this is land, and the one we are on is water, and this object is a motor boat.”
Now take this gun and pull this, to kill those behind us. As Evan took the helm, I fired at the guards, hitting two or three who had started swimming towards us. One guard swam faster than the others, reaching the boat and aiming his gun at Evan. I stepped in front, taking the bullet meant for him, he managed to shoot me on my head.
As the pain of the bullet wound surged through me, I felt a deep sense of urgency and love for my son. Evan's face was a picture of terror, his eyes wide and filled with tears. I knew that, it's my end.
Pain seared through my body. I knew my time was short. Evan's eyes widened in panic as he saw me bleeding. I handed him the gun. "Evan, listen carefully. One bullet is left. Never trust anyone fully. People are liars. From now on, your name is not Evan Malhotra. It's Ritik Malhotra. Remember that, son. Don’t trust anyone fully..."
I saw the confusion and fear in his eyes. I wished I could hold him one last time, tell him how much I loved him. But there was no time. My life was slipping away, and I had to make sure he understood.
"You are strong, Evan," I whispered. "You are brave. You can survive this. Trust yourself, and never give up.”
With my last breath, I jumped into the water, the cold shock stealing my breath away. As I sank, the world growing dim, my last thoughts were of Evan. I prayed he would find safety, that he would grow into the strong, resilient man I knew he could be. My sacrifice would not be in vain if he survived.
