A sequel to "Met by destiny." Could be read as stand alone.
"What is written in your destiny, will be yours. What belongs in your heart, will forever be yours."
M I N A H I L S I D D Q U E
A girl living in dreams and books, who's life is surroun...
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"Phupho, you-you said you were taking me to baba," I sobbed holding her hand tightly in my grip.
"Shut up you filthy girl." She shoves me back.
"Please don't leave me here- please phupho." I pleaded grabbing her hand tightly.
The man standing beside her grinned at me, shivers of disgust run through me seeing his yellow teeth and the way his eyes were set on me.
"What are you waiting for?" She yells at the man, "Take your thing and give me my end of the deal."
I sobbed helplessly watching the man handing a wad of cash to my aunt who grins happily looking at the money.
"No no!" I protest as the filthy man grabs my arms, "Leave me! Phupho please! I will do anything for you! Please let me stay with you!"
The man easily makes me stand on my feet and I try to fight him off but all he does is ties my hands with a rope and throws me on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Phupho please!" I yell desperately, trying to break free from his hold.
"Please someone save me!" I yell as the man steps out in the dark, in hope someone could rescue me.
But all I heard was silence. No one helped.
"Please!" I call out desperately again, my throat scratchy from screaming.
"Save me!" I mumble weakly, feeling my senses numbing as a cloth gets pressed against my mouth.
I wake up with a jolt, my heart beating dangerously against my rib cage, a sheen of sweat forming on my forehead.
Moving a shaky hand forward, I reached for the lamp on the side table and take a few calming breath, seeing the lights.
It's over.
It was long ago.
You are safe now.
I hold back my hairs and practice the breathing exercises which Hajra baji showed me, when I used to get nightmares like these.
Fifteen minutes later, my breathing resumed to normal yet my heart still thudded painfully from the remnants of my nightmare.
It's been four years, but the shudder of fear and realness of my nightmares transports me back to the time when I felt it.
Looking at the digital clock on my study table, I pushed my comforter aside and went to the washroom to make wadhu to pray fajar.
Salah was the only thing in this world that keeps me sane.
No matter how I want to cry, no one would judge me here.
After praying my salah, I sat on my desk chair and opened my books, setting up a timer on the small clock, I power on my laptop and take down my notes for the next chapter.
