Operation: Dard and Devotion

25 | Narcissism & Nausea

"You think so? That's a far cry from the truth. If I deserved to die, I would've been dead by now." He reasoned. "Obviously, Allah is on my side."

He must be high on something.

"Was that a joke?"

He blew out another smoke ring and turned to face me, looking amused. "Oh, I don't do jokes, love."

Faizan made the word love have a wretched connotation to me.

He took another long drag on his cigarette and glanced at me with hazy eyes before another series of smoke rings came my way. I hated the very scent of cigarette smoke and went into the worst coughing fit I ever had. Poor Saad had to inhale the smoke and hear my booming coughs simultaneously. Faizan reached out a hand to pat my back when I abruptly smacked his hand away.

"Don't you dare touch me," I spat once I recovered.

Anger flashed in his eyes before he obediently retracted his hand, shrugging. "Later, then."

"More like, never." My face twisted with contempt.

"Trust me, I always get my way," he said with total confidence. "It's only a matter of time."

"Trusting you is the last thing I'd do, trust me."

Faizan's eyes narrowed and a vein throbbed in his neck. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and unsheathed a flat, shiny object. A knife.

I eyed it warily while trying to keep my expression guarded.

"Keep talking, love." Faizan threw the cigarette on the floor and smudged it with his boots. He juggled the bare knife in the air and I flinched, believing that it would land on me, but Faizan caught it with his naked hands. "Oh, what happened? Suddenly lost your voice? What a shame. I recently bought this and wanted to test it out to see how sharp it is."

I didn't dare speak up.

He fidgeted with his pockets once more and retrieved another cigarette. "Local cigarettes always taste like shit," he muttered to himself. "Oh, where are my manners?" Faizan held out one to me. "Do you smoke?"

I shook my head.

"Have you ever tried?"

And again.

"Why are you...oh!" He stashed the knife away when he realized why I was silent. "No worries, love. I wasn't going to stab you anyway."

I didn't believe that one bit. I kept my face downcast and acted like an oppressed pushover. Even without looking up, I could feel his eyes on me.

"You've lost a tremendous amount of weight though. I liked you better with some meat." He scrunched his face up, deep in thought. "You know what, I will personally bring you a food and water supply weekly. I'd like for you to stay pretty, for me."

"Actually, no need. I'd rather starve," I told him, glaring at him with disgust.

His eyes darted to the new food bag on the floor that I had picked up from outside the room. "I see you found the bag I left for you. Still want to starve?"

That was from him?!

"Why don't you take a proper look to the contents and I will give you another chance to respond." When I didn't budge, his voice lost its fake sweetness. "Now."

Reluctantly, I bent over and retrieved the food bag, and a citrusy aroma filled the air the moment I untied it. Inside were the most beautiful fruits, at least, that was how they looked in my food-deprived eyes. Oranges, grapes, apples, pomegranates, figs - all the things I had once taken for granted a long time ago.