Strings Attached

~Chapter 13~

Because, there he is in his vests, all sweaty with exertion, his biceps bulging and veins on them protruding furiously, his hair sticking to his forehead with beads of sweat pendent in them and his knuckles throwing blow after blow at the heavy sack, suspended in the air by a chain, which keeps going backwards all the time with the impact of his blows.

The one whose whereabouts nobody is in the know of. And I see him right there, in front of my eyes, in the strangest of settings I'd ever guessed of finding him in. And once again, my thoughts ring aloud in my ears with intensity. What do you know about him? Nothing.

Though his back is to me, I'm perfectly positive that it's Daniyal, and nobody else. What I can't figure out is why the guy who demands attention at every action of his, is doing something so secretively? From the looks of it, not even his friends know. Or by now, they'd have led Mrs. Judy to him.

Thousands of questions are running through my head right now. The foremost one of them is why the need for this much of secrecy? Why isn't he letting anyone get a hint of his whereabouts? Why hasn't he been coming to school? Why is he skipping it? When did he learn how to box? And a few more silly questions that my mind is conjuring at a rapid speed.

The thing worrying me though is, should I inform Mrs. Judy? She was concerned about him, after all. But somehow, I don't feel inclined to rat out the address of his safe haven to anyone. It doesn't feel just. I've been spying on him, after all. And I'm pretty sure I won't be considered a welcome intruder if I decide to show myself.

All this while as I ponder over what step to take next, he's boxing steadily, never stopping for a breath. Drips of his sweat keep spraying the surroundings from his jerky moves. And I can't help but look at his biceps once again.

Suddenly, without any prior notice, he stops hitting the sack, taking rapid strides towards the bottle of water lying on the bench right across from me. And I take a step back to keep myself away from his line of sight. But the keeping-quiet resolution isn't successful. Because the crunching of dust beneath my feet, resulting from my movement, perks up his ears. And before I can crouch down to hide myself, his eyes land on me.

To say that he's furious, is the hugest understatement of the century. He directs his steps towards me, and I keep rooted to my spot, paralysed with fear of what's to come next. He comes to a halt right in front of me and looks at me unblinkingly with wrathful and... wretched eyes, not uttering a single word.

A vein is ticking at his temple. I feel as if he's about to take a swing at me, but he keeps his hands at his sides, clenching and loosening his fists rapidly. I feel breathless under his gaze, scared stiff lest a move unleashes the beast towering over me. A wave of emotions is making a whirlpool of his irises and I can't single out any of them. It looks as if he's high on something.

"Why do you come into my dreams?" he says unexpectedly, his voice suddenly gentle, his eyes soft and questioning. I'm confused. Is he not in his senses? Why is he babbling like a man in stupor? But before I can decide what to think of his strange query, his stance hardens. And I feel like I never heard him speak a thing.

With a sudden jerk, he breaks his eye contact with me, and stalks out of my sight. And slinging his bag over his shoulder with his gloved hands, eventually out of the room too.