Caged Read online

“You’re lying,” I knew it. That wasn’t my name.

  “Why would I lie to you, sweetheart?” He looked almost genuine saying those words. But experience had taught me not to trust him. I had been cheated enough already.

  “Because you’re trying to make me mad. How is it possible that I remember your name but not mine? What have you done to me?”

  I must say I caught him off guard and confused him a little, but he was quick with a manipulating response, “I’ve done nothing, you’re just stressed. Why don’t you eat dinner and sleep for a while? I got your favorite pizza.”

  I pushed him aside and lay in bed. I denied eating anything. I didn’t know what he might be feeding me. He could have been drugging me all this while so I wouldn’t remember these things. Now that I thought about it there were a lot of things I didn’t remember. The name of my parents. I could see their faces smiling, my little sister running all around the house. But no names, no numbers. That was the first time that I thought I wanted to die. Immediately if possible. But he wouldn’t let me. So I resolved to wait till he went away to jump out of the library window. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning everything seemed to have fallen back into a routine. Alba was tapping my shoulder, and all I could think about was jumping out of the library window. I met her eyes, took in her features as it would probably be the last time I saw her. I was going to jump from the third story in the snow. And I’m not like that other guy I met downstairs who heals immediately. So I’ll most likely die and be free of this prison.

  It was the Fourth of July, Independence Day of the United States. The United States was declared free from the rule of Great Britain on this very day. They got freedom and I will too. Last year I was in New York on Fourth of July. My aunt and I stayed in and cooked a nice Indian meal together. We had talked for hours about relationships, ex-boyfriends, and men in general.

  The day of freedom was here, and my mind was set. I wasn’t afraid of doing it. It actually seemed pretty easy. Jump out of the window and fly to heaven. There was just one problem. I wanted to know if John and Boone were able to open that hatch. What could be in there? Ghosts? Ruins? Money? Snakes?

  Without wasting any more time, I switched on the TV and jumped into bed. I just had to know about the hatch, and then I could die peacefully. I also guiltlessly gobbled down all the food on the dining table. Coffee, omelet, toast, grilled fish, salad and a bowl of melon. I didn’t understand where it all went. I took it all in gracefully. No nausea or anything. Usually, I’m nauseous when I eat fish but not today.

  My mind and body were both messed up I believe. I wanted to finish this bloody thing off today, at least see what’s in the hatch and die peacefully.

  Episode after episode I kept watching, and they couldn’t open it. The hatch. No ax; no stone could break it. It was creeping me out. I was dying to get a tiny little peep inside. It was a disgusting feeling. I watched all the episodes, and when they were finally able to open it, it was over. The show was over; the season was over. The hatch was opened, but nobody knows what’s inside. And I definitely won’t know. It was over for me.

  I felt cheated and dejected. When I stepped down the bed and started walking towards the library door, the clock struck eight. He’ll be here any moment. If he caught me doing anything like this, he'd make it tougher for me to live and to die. I had lost that day. I will not die on the Fourth of July. It was too much. All this felt worse than being held captive in the first place. I mean it was probably not him, it was the universe that was toying with me and torturing me. A moment of bliss and satisfaction is what I wanted when I fell from the window. With a smile on my face.

  What did I do so wrong to be here, to be like this? Who would know? I didn’t remember half of the things about me.

  My face was stone hard with no expression, not even anger when I heard him again. He was calling me and only me. He needed me. My new housemate. He was in pain, but he wasn’t alone.

  “Heeeeeellllllllllllpppppppppp.”

  I had never heard a word before. He would scream in pain and shout but never speak a word. He would never ask for help. But now he was. Because he knew I was listening. And then I heard him too.

  “YOU WILL TELL ME THE TRUTH NOW,” he yelled emphasizing each word. I will admit that I was scared then. All the determination, anger, and agitation were replaced by fear. Fear of him. Daniel.

  I lay in bed quietly. I waited for a long time, but he didn’t show up. I thought he’s too busy downstairs. He’s not coming.

  But he came. The door unlocked, and I acted like I was in a deep sleep. He walked around the room probably changing and getting ready for bed.

  “YOU WILL TELL ME THE TRUTH NOW.”

  That sentence kept ringing in my ears, and it was all I could think about. I could even imagine him saying it with gritted teeth when he touched my arm. It startled me. I was planning to lay motionless, but I almost cried at that touch. It shocked him too.

  “Are you alright?” he asked so softly that I couldn’t believe the contrast between his voice downstairs and now.

  “I’m fine. I was having a nightmare.” I managed to say without looking at him.

  “What did you see?” he said brushing my arm and kissing my forehead. I didn’t reply. I hated him, his touch, his caress but I also felt weirdly triumphant that he no longer hurt me. He’ll hurt the other one but not me; now I’ll be kept dear. I was superior to that man, whoever he was.

  Daniel held me in his arms so close and so tight that I could taste his breath. He was asleep very quickly, but it would take me some time to calm down and drift to sleep. The last thing I saw that night was his necklace. And for the first time, I could see the power radiating from it. It was no ordinary necklace. There was something very, very dangerous about it.

  Chapter 5

  The strong smell of his aftershave flooded through my nose. It was almost hurting. He was lying in bed with a book in his hands. I immediately turned to see the time. It was 8:25. He shouldn’t be here. Why is he here? Will he leave? Or is he planning to spend the whole day with me? I don’t know how I’m supposed to behave around him the whole day.

  I tried not to get his attention and the way he was immersed in the book helped. It was a French book. L’étranger which meant The Stranger. That was his favorite book. He had once told me on a date I guess. Now I can almost see it. We were walking in a park. He was wearing a sky-blue shirt and had a book in his hand. The English version of this book. He had got it for me as a gift.

  “Do you like reading?” he had asked.

  “I do,” I said but I never read the book. Not even for his sake. If it were a love story, I would have finished it in a night but The Stranger, I’m sorry.

  Now that I think of it, I wish I had better read such books than those cheesy romances like Twilight. They were somewhat responsible for brainwashing me into this marriage.

  “So what do you like then? I mean what are your hobbies?” he changed the subject.

  “Travelling, watching movies, reading, hanging out with friends. And you? What are your hobbies? Except reading?” It was as if I was rambling about my hobbies in an interview.

  “Honestly, it’s just reading. I rarely watch movies, was never good at sports and as you may have guessed by now; I’m a bit of an introvert. Unlike you,” he eyed me with a tiny smile. He was very simple and didn’t joke or laugh at all, but when he smiled, his half smile, his blushing smile or my favorite ‘looking somewhere else smile’ it was the most magnificent thing in the world.

  “Hmmm…. Interesting. Tell me about your family,” I asked fighting the intoxication I had just felt.

  “My Mom’s French, she lives in Nice. I have a friend Roger here in New York. I’m staying with him.” I could’ve never guessed that he was French, his accent didn’t give that away. In fact, he sounded British. The way the British say ‘tof’ for ‘tough’ and ‘Auurright’ for ‘Alright.'

&nbs
p; “French huh? So how long have you been here?”

  “A couple of months. You?”

  “A couple of weeks, I’m afraid.”

  “What about your family?”

  “Mom, Dad and a little sister. They live in India.”

  “Where in India?”

  “Like you’ll know,” I chortled.

  “My father was an Indian. He was from Aurangabad,” he stated very formally.

  “Oh wow that’s great. You’re half Indian. So where is he now?”

  “I don’t know. I never met him,” he turned away from me.

  Something immediately pushed me back to the present. It was his voice.

  “Why don’t you go freshen up Norah. We’ll have breakfast together.”

  Norah.

  That wasn’t my name. If he was planning to lie to me about my name, he should at least have chosen an Indian name.

  I got up irately and went to the bathroom without even looking at him. I had to prepare myself for spending the whole day with him. I ran the water, undressed, stepped into the bathtub and wasn’t planning to get out anytime soon. He knocked after around half an hour. I said “in a minute” automatically. Whatever happened to the attitude?

  Now that he was being so nice to me these days, I thought I could ask him a favor. I wanted to watch the second season of Lost. To find out what’s in the hatch. I got out of the bathtub and stood in front of the mirror. I wanted to laugh out loud at myself.

  You want him to get you a DVD today. Tomorrow you’ll probably ask for chocolates, a teddy, then for a new sweater. How weak and low are you?

  I put on my bathrobe and went outside trying to keep my face calm and expressionless. He was now at the dining table, still reading the book. When he saw me, he smiled a fake smile.

  “Come on, let’s eat,” he murmured.

  “I’m not hungry,” I replied and jumped into bed. He said nothing and started eating. I was looking at him from the tail of my eye, he was wearing a loose white t-shirt, and his hair was wet. He had just shaved that morning. He looked very different today more like his old self. The guy I met in New York. The guy I fell in love with.

  My life was a jumble of memories and emotions right now, yet I can never be sure about what I feel for him. He was my dream once, and now he’s like a nightmare. I had almost forgotten my plan about dying and my eyes fell on the library door.

  Library

  Door

  Window

  Jump

  Die

  Free

  The thought of dying had seemed beautiful yesterday. Today it only made me nervous. I looked out of the window. It was a beautiful morning which wasn’t pushing me to commit suicide like that rain had done.

  And I realized there was still hope for me. I can still live. I can still be free for real.

  His face seemed angry now. Maybe because all those nice words and soft caresses couldn’t even earn him a smile from me. How childish. He shot up from his chair, changed his t-shirt for a sweater and went away locking the door.

  Now I could eat my breakfast. That book was still on the dining table, and I picked it up and then immediately put it down again. No touching his things. But I couldn’t resist stealing a glance.

  L’étranger by Albert Camus.

  The Stranger.

  Oh my God. The Stranger. The Stranger downstairs. I met a man. In the basement. I even talked to him. I replayed that night and my conversation with him. I had gone down four sets of stairs on the basis of a groan. How on earth was that possible? Never have I heard a voice or sound from the house before, then why and how did I hear him?

  Was it all in my mind?

  If my memory could be so distorted and whipped, why not my brain. I could be going mad. And then I heard him again. No words. Only screams and a mocking laughter sometimes. But I couldn’t hear Daniel, though I was sure he was down there. It felt so real. How could it be a hallucination?

  Now that I had dropped the suicide plan, I had to think about escape. I needed a proper escape plan. And for that, I needed to be in my right mind. I needed to know what was wrong with me.

  Firstly, my memories were distorted. I didn’t remember some of the most important things in my life, like my name for example. I didn’t know where I was which was crucial too. I had already wasted a lot of time in thinking and trying to retrieve that information and failed. So I wasn’t going on that road again. I had to somehow manage with whatever information I had.

  The second problem with me was this new situation with the stranger. The voices I heard and the encounter with that man. If I go by logic, it was undoubtedly a hallucination. But if I go by instinct, it was more than real. Hallucinations should be like dreams, hazy. This wasn’t. I could easily recall his voice, his words, the darkness, and the fear I felt when I went downstairs. Plus, it had happened more than one time. So there was a fat chance that it wasn’t real.

  The third problem was the change in Daniel’s behavior. He was very kind to me in the last couple days. Maybe he was planning something. If I guessed right, I didn’t have a lot of time before he dropped a bomb.

  I had no new plan; I had already tried to escape many times. Once before, I pushed Alba on the side and tried to run off when she had brought breakfast. A guard had grabbed me by the shoulder and threw me back in the room. That had happened twice. I had spent days trying to break the glass windows in the room and also the one in the bathroom. The chairs had broken but none of the glass. He had got both the broken chairs removed from the room. Now there were only two chairs. I had no new idea or plan.

  And my eyes fell on the book again. L’étranger. The Stranger could be the key to my escape.

  Daniel didn’t come back till eight at night. And when he did, he freshened up, changed and came to bed like his usual routine. He switched off the lights and was clearly ignoring me. And then I felt him move after a few hours or so. He went to the bathroom, and when he was back, he lazily ambled towards the dining table, poured himself a glass of water and picked up the book again.

  He opened the library door and went inside. My insides started churning. Why did he have to go there and in only a couple minutes he was back. He closed the door and locked it.

  That door was locked. Again. And so were all my hopes of freedom. Locked away in ‘Oblivion’.

  Chapter 6

  Sleep couldn’t wipe the anger I felt last night. I wanted to set the whole world on fire. Which was obviously way out of my league. So I decided I should rather break Alba’s neck. After all, I had to vent it out. My anger. On anything and everything I could. But considering she was taller and stronger than me, I asked my mind to shut up.

  I thought I should calm myself down. But honestly, my situation wasn’t very soothing. So I kind of traveled back in time and touched a little fragment of my memory. The memory of my favorite man in the world. My Daddy. Whenever I was confused and distracted, he’d tell me his motivational catchphrase.

  “You have three most valuable things in the world that can break all barriers and solve all problems. Mind, Body and Spirit. Keep your mind right, put your body in action and let your spirit guide you.”

  Every year during exam season we’d hear this line like fifteen times, and we were seriously and tragically bored of it. Me and my sister. We would just roll our eyes at each other. But right now I wanted to hug my dad and thank him for his guidance. Keep your mind right, put your body in action and let your spirit guide you.

  I was going to do exactly that. In fact, I had already started working on keeping my mind straight. I had even thought of not eating food to prevent myself from any drugging, but that would mean compromising on my physical strength. Which was a bad idea. I needed both my mind and my body to escape.

  Yesterday I had come to a conclusion that my new housemate was going to be a part of my plan. I can somehow use him to get out of here. Use would be a wrong word. I could count on his help. And we could both break out of here. So I had to talk to him.
But the library door was locked. Even if it wasn't, I could not just ask him to run away with me. I needed a plan. WE needed a plan.

  I shuddered at his sudden screams. Daniel is clearly down there. Hurting him. God, I wish I could kill Daniel. Who the hell is he? The successor of Satan?

  All my efforts of keeping my mind right were getting weak. I was losing that hold, that grip that I thought I was acquiring on myself. The noise wouldn’t let me concentrate on a plan either. So I tried to shut my eyes and my mind and think of something else. Anything that could make me feel better.

  And my crazy freaking mind again stumbled on to his memory. I was walking with him hand, in hand and we were laughing at something. We were going to watch a movie.

  “OK now hurry up, the show’s in like 20 minutes.” I was all excited and happy.

  “I still can’t believe I'm going to watch this movie. What is it called? Me and Earl and what?” he said clearly starting to wince, but I shut him up by simply rolling my eyes.

  “Alright, I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s going to be amazing,” he said.

  I didn't reply. He never liked movies, and I was always crazy about them. Bollywood, Hollywood all movies were meant for me to watch. If I didn't watch at least a movie every weekend, life didn't feel complete.

  "Especially, with you, everything is amazing," he continued. Too much talking for an introvert, wouldn’t you say?

  I was a little angry at him and confused too. But the way he held my hand and intently watched the movie, and the way he smiled and half laughed at funny scenes, it melted me. Being near him was such a beautiful feeling and yet so elusive. I didn’t care about the movie which I was more than excited to watch just minutes ago. He was more important and more exciting than the movie and so close to me, how could I dare think about anything else?

  After the movie, he said he liked it. I didn’t reply, just smiled. Initially, when we met, I used to jabber continuously but now I had started learning to keep quiet. Just like him. A few words and few smiles worked way better than any useless chatter. We didn't need them. It also gave him a chance to sometimes start a conversation.