I woke up with my blanket and bed sheet drenched in my sweat—or atleast I hope it was my sweat.
...Okay, I checked. It was definitely my sweat. Thank god!
Was it even possible for a human to sweat this much? Or wait, was it because I'm different?
Wow, did I just think I'm different?
A monster and monk tell me I'm somehow loved by some creature called Ruh that help me shoot light stuff out of my hands and I develop a subconscious ego about it.
Well, it does sound like something I would do. Very on-brand of me.
Guess nothing's changed then.
How unfortunate.
I switched the phone on and saw the time.
And shit in my shoes, I woke up early! How did I wake up early? Frankly, I'm disappointed in myself.
Especially, since I'm one of those people who, once they wake up, won't be able to sleep again until it is nighttime. Sometimes even then I'd just be awake scrolling through the Instagram feed the whole night, to be honest.
That shit's addictive, beware kids!
Hmm, what were my options now?
I could just pass my time by scrolling through those feeds now...or maybe read some of the eBooks. You know, healthier choice of the two.
Or I could just take a bath. Honestly, all that sweat now made the room smell, not to mention, the bed itself was a majorly uncomfortable piece of furniture at the moment. Enough for me to wish that I'd rather be laying at my kidnapper's place on that torn up sofa with rusty springs.
With a groan, I got up and decided to first drink some water. My body felt seriously dehydrated at the moment.
So, I headed down while crunching my eyes, trying to get the crusty green stuff collected on my eyelids off of it.
I never understood what that thing was. Dirt? Mucus? Solidified sweat and tears?
Weird things our body produces, man...
Once I got down and entered the kitchen, from the one eye that I still had kept open, I saw the figure of a man I deeply, from the bottom of my heart, wanted to avoid having an interaction with.
Not out of hate or disgust, but more because of fear.
Fear that I disappointed him.
And with that, I slowly started to retrace my steps in reverse hoping he didn't hear, see or sense my presence.
"Are you trying to practice walking in reverse?" My uncle said without even straying his eyes away from the newspaper he held in front of his face.
Did he have some sort of holes cut out in that paper?
"Um...n-no, I mean yes...I mean that I just—"
"It's okay. Calm down and find your words," he said, turning the page, no holes there, "you have time until my tea gets cold."
God, why was that so intimidating?
It's not even that he said it in some cool godfather way. Which, if you think about it, technically, he is my godfather.
Sure, he didn't smoke a cigar—or even a cigarette—and sure he had a fuller hair and a thicker moustache and instead of a fancy suit, he was wearing the police khaki uniform, but the presence he had...for a man in his late forties, he was fit.
Not in a bulky sort of way and sure, he did have a little belly, but he was still a lot more fit than me, that's for sure. The guy could beat my ass under 5 seconds, that's for sure—which could be a testament of his strength or just my weakness.
I wonder if Dad would have been the same. As my uncle, not me.
My dad and uncle were 5 years apart—my father was the elder one—so I suppose there couldn't be that big of a difference.
Then again, my father was a lawyer and not a policeman, so who knows.
I wonder if me and Idris could become like them, crime-fighting duos or just partners in similar fields. Having no actual brother of my own, he's the closest one I had to one. Considering our abilities, he'd definitely be better off as a policeman compared to me.
Great tangent to avoid discussion, am I right?
"I'm sorry, kaka," I said the first and the only thing that seemed appropriate in my head. With small, wary steps, I headed towards the kitchen and the small dining table in there like a man in a jungle that's ready to run off at a moment's notice if the tiger starts running towards him.
He still did not look up. Or make any sort of movement.
I wondered if time had stopped somehow or if he had passed out or fallen to sleep in that position. Might seem like a stiff position to fall asleep but you all don't know him as I do. I've seen him fall asleep in the most absurd positions and scenarios possible.
But my assumptions were broken off when he turned the pages again.
I fear the criminals who have to sit in front of him for interrogation.
I slid the chair back, sat on it and waited for him to say something but...nothing. He stayed still.
Almost like the lady in my dream, except now, there was no weird dream shenanigan holding me back.
Also, what was up with that? Now, I've had my fair share of weird-ass dreams—coincidently, I did have a dream about weirdly shaped asses that were somehow some type of animal on an Island I had crash-landed onto—but the one from last night was just plain creepy if you think about it.
Wasn't there a saying that dreams are meant as a way to show us our fear or something? I wonder what in the cold fudge did that dream meant!
Maybe I need to hit the gym or go out on a run regularly if I need to meet some woman? Maybe Divyanshi? In which case, maybe that's something I might consider actually doing...
Between my inner thought monologue and my uncle's stoic state of parenting, the silence went on for like fifteen more minutes. And let me tell you...that did not feel like mere fifteen minutes.
So much for waking up early. This is why one should always wake up on time. Not late though, that's just bonkers and lazy.
I have my own set of standards, you know.
My uncle—whose name if you're wondering about, is Omkar and that would be the last time I'll refer to him by his name because otherwise, that's just disrespectful, so I suppose you all be sure to remember it—folded his newspaper neatly and took the last sip of his tea.
I noticed that he didn't bother to make me tea.
His punishments worked in weird, subtle ways.
"Explain."