Caged Read online

  Caged

  Onaiza Khan

  Copyright © 2016 by Inkitt

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is published by Inkitt the Hipster’s Library – Join now to read and discover free upcoming bestsellers

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 1

  A tip of grass brushed my skin as I lay lazily on the ground smelling the earthy mud that slowly soaked into my back. My hair was wet with dew or water I could not tell. A soft breeze swayed my skirt making me shudder just a little. My hair was messy, but I liked the citrus smell of my shampoo blending with the natural aroma. I touched my hair; it was a little rough, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t about how I looked but how I felt.

  The early morning sun touched my skin with its warmth making me feel like a prism. Even with closed eyes, I could see the sun rays dancing around me in all the beautiful colors of a rainbow. It was like mixing warmth and love together in a perfect unbreakable bond.

  I turned on my side, and upon opening my eyes, I stared into the greenery spreading across the place. I noticed the grass near my hand and then my eyes went gliding to the very end of the garden. The fence. It was brown. The sky was orange and then moving upward; it got yellower and then bluer. The colors were so real and so palpable. I could almost touch them and draw patterns on them with my fingers.

  The wetness from my back had started shifting to my front in the form of sweat. I wanted to wipe it away from my forehead, get rid of it immediately, but a long time had passed since I sweated… So I let it stay.

  The bright sun made me squint, taking in all its anger and wrath. The grass felt a little rough and a little soft at the same time. The fabric of my dress clung on to my perspiring body. All this made me feel so alive, so real. It was intoxicating. And a sharp pang of chagrin cut through my dream, waking me up to the real world.

  All that was just a dream. A beautiful one at that. That couldn’t have happened for real; because there is nothing real or natural around me, not even the air.

  It has been months since I have been under the open sky; felt a stroke of real fresh air on my skin or the sun caress my body with its light and warmth. All I have is a window through which I can see it all and yearn for it every passing minute. The mountains, the sky, and the sun form a beautiful landscape, and the winds blow violently sometimes. Everything is in front of me, but I don’t have access to a needle worth of air. It’s almost surreal.

  I feel I might just wake up from another long bad dream and open the windows, bathe under the sun, make coffee and complete a book I left unfinished on the night table.

  But enough about dreams when in reality I am a hostage, not in a small cell or a dark dungeon but in a beautiful bedroom. This room, where I spend my days is huge and beautiful, a place you’d be happy to lose yourself. Rectangular in shape, half of the area is left unused here. Empty. Plain. Neat. The cold marble flooring could send shivers through the spine. The artificial heating only sometimes warms it up. Otherwise, it’s as cold as ice.

  But fortunately for me, I have a king-sized bed to sleep in which is thickly layered with mattresses, sheets, and comforters. It is warm and comfortable, yes, but far from my fantasies of the sun and grass. It is real and fake both at the same time.

  The bed and a sofa set are located on the other side of the room with a tiny little wooden dining table which sits in the corner. A huge closet full of clothes, shoes, and a lavish bathroom is also here to meet my needs and perhaps make me comfortable. If that is even possible.

  A television set for my entertainment is set right in front of the bed and is also visible from the sofa. But the idea of entertainment must be staring at the black or blue screen as there is no cable.

  But instead of staring at that screen, I stare at the library door. Yes, there’s a library inside this room and it’s classy. But it is always locked, and I’ve never had a chance to see it. It fascinates me anyway. Sometimes I want to go in, see the shelves, smell the books, touch the paper, read something or just do nothing but be in there.

  And that, along with the glass window ends my compass of staring. Apart from that, there is an important task that I do; keep track of time. There is a small calendar on the TV table. It’s an old one by the way. I just cross the days off on the 2014 calendar and somehow manage to stay on the same course of time as the world outside. This calendar says 1st of July 2014 is a Tuesday, but I know that today is the 1st of July 2016 and I know it’s a Friday.

  That’s my only connection with the outside world, the real world. I have hope that someday I will be free, I will be there too, and it is not a foolish hope, it’s faith. I have faith in myself that I will always keep trying. And I have hope in that one god who claims to see us all and know everything about us. If he’s really there, there is no way he’ll let me keep failing in all my attempts.

  Recently, like my eyes, my ears too have something to do. Listen to someone. They have another hostage now, just like me, somewhere downstairs, probably a man. I hear him screaming sometimes, screaming in pain, swearing even. I don’t know why he’s here, hell I don’t know why I’m here. I feel hurt for him, sorry. But more than that, I am curious about what he looks like, who he is or anything that I can find out. The only face I see except my captor’s is a black woman who brings three meals for me at 9, 1 and 7. She always gives me a warm smile but never speaks a word. I’ve tried to make conversation many times, but she never replies. That smile makes me think that she feels bad for me.

  The blood-curdling screams of the man downstairs are scaring the hell out of me today. The clock is ticking, and my heart grows heavier at the arrival of my captor. At eight o’clock sharp the door unlocks and he enters with a little smile on his face, his teeth gleaming white and his enticing black eyes digging into mine. He isn’t very tall, just a couple inches taller than me but somehow he always manages to tower and intimidate me. He tucks my hair behind my ears.

  “What have you been doing sweetheart?” he asks with his tone as cool as it could possibly be. But I know that’s just a bluff. He is a monster in disguise. His beautiful black eyes don’t fool me anymore. I can see through them, the animal that is ready to rip apart everything that comes in his way. He doesn’t expect me to answer that. Obviously, he’s only toying with me and my temper. It must be a game for him.

  I replied with a dark stare. That’s all I do these days. I don’t understand the point of wasting my words on him. I don’t consider him human enough for carrying on a conversation.

  “What are you wearing honey?” His eyes were now piercing mine with a sharp look of anger disapproving of my t-shirt and pajamas. He hates to see me in them. I am supposed to wear the silky and satiny clothes from the closet to please him. But sometimes I try to piss him off on purpose. That’s the
only weapon I have, my attitude, never giving in to his ways.

  Though I’m always the one who pays for it yet I do it anyway. I hate dressing up for this monster who has no right to keep me here and treat me according to his whims and fancies.

  With anger flaring up in his eyes, he took off, without a turn or second look. I didn’t understand his behavior at first. Why didn’t he hit me or yell or do any of his drunk stunts? He just walked away. This was rare, very rare. I don’t recall him leaving this room after eight o’clock in the last three months.

  But as soon as I heard the alarming scream of my new housemate, the realization of his intention set upon me. This man is probably paying the price of my tantrums. It hurt more than anything. I didn’t want to get anyone hurt for my actions. I’m not like that. At least I don’t think so.

  The brute came back in an hour with a weird look on his face. I hadn’t seen anything like that before. It was a look mixed of victory and pain. He didn’t touch me after that, just jumped on his side of the bed and slept. This reminded me of the first night we’d spent together as a married couple. He had lifted me in his arms and brought me in this room, lay me on the bed and showered me with kisses. I had told him I was tired and then he let me sleep.

  I was happy and proud inside that I had found a man who loved me truly. Had I known what was on his mind; I would have run without ever looking back.

  I lay on the sofa enjoying whatever it was that had saved me from his wrath for one night. I felt comfortable and safe even. Because I knew when I woke up in the morning, he’d be gone. Alba will knock on the door lightly and open it. The room will be filled with the smell of coffee and French toast. Saturday is French toast day.

  Suddenly it started raining cats and dogs. Everything outside the window got blurry and dark. The rain which had always been like music to my ears sounded like a battle cry today. The pattering of it on the walls and roof was as if an army of soldiers were attacking me with pointed poisonous arrows. Slowly it all got scarier, the noise, the blur, the wetness.

  For the first time in all these months, I was happy that I was inside the safety of this house and as ironic as it sounds I also felt a strange comfort in his presence. I was comforted that I was not all alone. So, I quietly went to bed and lay beside him.

  But I couldn’t sleep, the noise and the strange feelings got me so confused that sleeping was the last thing I could do. I lay there staring at the ceiling. It was so beautiful, and yet it felt like the rain would smash it into pieces at anytime, and they’ll be all over me. The bricks, the rubble, the glass all breaking into tiny pieces and attacking me with a lightning speed and then the lightning itself would burn me to ashes.

  I turned on my side and again when I saw his face, snoring lightly, in a deep sleep, I felt better. His chiseled body, tanned skin, and the godly face shone like that of an angel’s. He had thrown his shirt on the dining table chair and hadn’t bothered to change his jeans. He looked so good that in any other situation, I would have worshiped him. Actually, I even worshiped him three months back. He was the man of my dreams. He was rich, intelligent and gorgeous as hell. I hadn’t believed my fate that this man was so much in love with me and was going to marry me. My family had not liked my decision of marrying Daniel, but I wrote them off. I cut all ties with them. All I wanted was him.

  The weather didn’t improve at all. It got scarier through the night. I doubted if he’ll go to work today. I didn’t know how I would spend the day around him. I wished he would spend the day downstairs in the house if he stayed. I wanted to be alone for those twelve hours. Eight o’clock in the morning to eight o’clock at night. That was my time. The time when he did not own me. The time when I didn’t have to see him, tolerate him. The time when I felt like a useless woman, not a ragged doll he’s supposed to play with.

  With all my thoughts running forward and backward in my mind I got more and more restless and once again I started thinking about the other hostage. The screams I’d heard. I had asked Alba about it, and she had given me a surprised look. Sometimes I thought she understood me, that she understood English, but other times it felt like I was talking to a wall. I tried to close my eyes and shut everything off. Though it took a lot of time, I was finally able to sleep.

  Chapter 2

  When I woke up it wasn’t morning, it was afternoon, and Alba was tapping my shoulder. It was 1 o’clock, and she had brought me lunch. Usually, when she saw me sleeping in the morning she’d just put the breakfast on the table and go away, but at lunch, she’d wake me up. I had fallen asleep late, ergo, I couldn’t wake up early. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the table; a steaming hot porridge which I thought must be lunch was sitting there, but I decided to jump on the cold French toast instead.

  Alba was gone in a minute and turned up again while I was still eating, carrying a hot cup of coffee. I was very grateful for the coffee. Sometimes she reminded me of my mom. Without me saying a word, she’d know what I wanted.

  I smiled at her; I even wanted to hug her but decided against it. I didn’t want to make myself too comfortable around here especially after the kind of feelings I had about Daniel last night. Instead of staying as far as possible from him, I went closer to him; I even found peace in his presence. It was disgusting to do such a thing. And I wasn’t proud of myself. I used to call him Danny back when we got married, but now even if I say his proper name, my mouth feels filthy inside. Like it’s the worst word in the vocabulary of the entire history of this world. Like it is cursed and inauspicious. A jinx.

  Not knowing what to do with the rest of my day, I jumped back in bed, and my eyes fell on his necklace. He always wore a necklace that belonged to his mother. It wasn’t very feminine which is why it didn’t look funny on him. It was a silver chain with a red stone hanging from it like a pendant. The stone was covered with a silver frame. The design was very complicated. Like a jumble of lines. Sort of a maze. But a circular opening in the center gave the stone the limelight it deserved. That necklace appeared to me a heart inside the ribs; the silver being the ribs and the red stone being the heart. The heart is protected by the jumble of ribs but cannot be hidden. He had told me once what that stone was called, something starting from C but I don’t remember what it was, though definitely not coral.

  I picked it up and lightly brushed the stone with my thumb. I was lost in its design when suddenly and abruptly I reminded myself that I don’t touch his things. If he’d leave his clothes or anything else lying anywhere in the room, I never touched it. If intangible things like his name or his presence affected me so much, touching his tangible things is gross. I threw the necklace back on his side of the bed.

  I went to look out of the window, the sun was shining beautifully now, there was no trace of the scary rain. It was bright and beautiful all around. The light reflected back from the mountains, their peaks covered in snow and greenery falling downwards. There were so many shades in the mountains, in the landscape, I wanted to put them down on a little sheet of paper with crayons. And I wondered what sort of place this could be. Appalachians, Himalayas or the Rockies.

  I don’t know which city or country I’m in which is totally absurd as I took a flight from New York and even changed a couple of flights before I reached here. I definitely knew where I landed. I read the signs on the road on our way here. Even under the bliss of being newly married to a man with Greek godly looks, there is no way I couldn’t remember all that. I can see all those signs of the airports and roads in my mind right now, but everything is a total blur. Not readable.

  As if all that important information has moved to my unconscious, I know it is there, but I can’t access it. Having nothing else to do with my life, I tried to retrieve that information many times, but I never make it; there is a physical barrier between me and that information.

  So even if I accidentally grab hold of a phone, I couldn’t tell anyone where I am. I hate it how trapped I am here. I remember back in India I was watching this movie with my
friend called ROOM where a young girl is kidnapped by a man and held captive for seven years during which she gives birth to a boy named Jack, and when Jack’s five years old, she manages to escape with his help. It was disturbing, but I knew it was just a sad story made for people to cry and forget their own problems. There was nothing remotely real about it. When I saw my friend shedding tears over it I told her, ‘it’s just a movie don’t take it too hard’ and she said ‘I have read true stories where people have been kidnapped and tortured for years and they couldn’t escape or do anything about it.’ I can hear her voice crystal clear in my head right now. How different life was back then? We’d had lunch at my house, watched that movie on my laptop in bed and then I made hot chocolate for us.

  I decided I’d ask Alba to make me hot chocolate today when she brings me dinner. I started to walk around the room unwittingly and spotted a DVD lying on the TV table which was strange. He would never leave anything like that in the room. Even his briefcase and laptop bag were password locked. I picked it up instantly without giving myself a chance to reconsider touching his things and turned it around, and it said ‘for you to pass some of your time.’ I couldn’t believe what I read and put it back. I didn’t want his mercy. If I could spend three months without entertainment, I definitely didn’t need it now. If I give in to this, he’ll think he can easily tame me into a puppet. But the rain started again. That rain.

  All the haunting feelings from last night started creeping back to me. The beautiful sunny day started drowning in a cloud of fear and darkness. I told myself, it’s just a little change in weather, nothing personal. But I don’t know why it felt personal. I was the only target of that rain. It was an enemy from an old time or some other life. It wanted revenge. I buried myself in the blanket and tried to sleep, but it was all like last night; except he wasn’t here. I tried to picture him as I saw him last night. His short beard, huge lashes, thin lips, and in a few minutes he was almost there in front of me. I knew every curve, every line and every tiny shape of his face to the extent that I could recreate it.