Chapter 105: Bring her To Me

As they both made love to each other against the counter of the kitchen, whispering love

words to each other, their moans soon filled the room. The young Shehryaar couldn’t

comprehend what was happening, but he was disturbed by what his mother was doing with

another man.

Mind boggled, he stepped back and went to his room, unable to figure out how he was

supposed to feel about it. His mind was filled with the image of his mother with a man who

was not his father.

Was it wrong?he asked himself.

After that, those scenes became frequent for him to see.

In his dreams.

The picture played.

The voices began to whisper.

The demons were born.

Since that day, he began to distance himself from everyone, just to get rid of that particular

scene from his mind. He once asked his grandmother about it. His grandmother told him,

crystal clear, that only a husband could touch his wife. Then he gauged it was wrong. Very

wrong. But he kept it to himself. He didn't want anyone to trouble his mother.

He began to go with the shooting practice with his elder brother and his grandfather. The

violence that followed distracted his young mind from the disturbing images that were

imprinted on his mind. He didn't tell anyone. To some extent, he was able to calm the voices

that whispered 24/7 in his mind.

Until the day he again saw a similar scene unfolding.

Then the other day.

Then another day.

Since that moment, the voices never ceased. No matter how hard he tried to push back

those scenes, those voices, those grunts and moans to the back of his mind, they would

always return with double intensity. And then he gave his mind another food for thought by

finding satisfaction in bloodshed and gore. He was turning to guns and bloodshed to

overcome those horrible images. He found solace in violence. He was losing the innocence

which a small child should have had. The violence and bloodshed helped him to overcome

the voices in his head.

To cover up the moans of his mother, he enriched his ears with the sound of screams of the

victims he would see getting tortured, and sometimes he got a chance to install a dagger in

their hearts.

Video games were long gone as a source of interest for him.

Something else took their place.

Flashback ends.

He stood in front of a man who was half-dead, blood smeared on his face.

He was kept in one of his torture cells, and Shehryaar was yet to pay him a visit. So he used

the old technique, and the moment he entered, he began to punch him—breaking and

cracking the bones of his skull, dislocating his jaw before fixing it back, and dislocating it

again.

"He will come for you," the man whispered in a half-dead state. "You, your family, stole his

childhood. He will come for you," he said again, but Shehryaar's ears weren't registering

anything.

Only one face was in front of his eyes.

Her grey eyes.

And one voice was in his ears.

Her voice.

He hated her for affecting him.

And just like a tape, the scene of that kitchen would unfold in front of his eyes, and he would

begin to throw punches at that man.

"He knows my family too," he whispered to the man.

"Yes. He does," the man said with difficulty. "If you let me free, maybe I will convince him

not to harm you so much."

The rage within Shehryaar’s chest grew, but he smirked instead. From a close ally, he had

come to know that this man was close to the new chief of the FBI, whose identity was still

hidden. Shehryaar kidnapped him, but he didn’t utter the name.

This man was challenging him.

Oh, it is going to be fun,he thought to himself, then connected the wires attached to the

man’s chair to a switch. He turned the switch on, and the man began to wail under the

electric current. Shehryaar kept going until the man was left in a state that was neither dead

nor alive.

After the electricity torture, Shehryaar took a dagger from the torture devices and stabbed it

in the man’s hand. The man screamed loudly. Blood spurted out of it, but Shehryaar didn’t

stop there—he stretched the hole until one could see through the piercing.

"Say his name," Shehryaar gritted.

But the man only wailed and cried. In the silent torture cell, only his screams and

Shehryaar’s heavy breathing could be heard. The man couldn’t speak, nor did he want to. He

just kept on crying.

To shut him up, as the noise was piercing his ears, Shehryaar stuffed his mouth with a cloth.

He wasn’t interested in getting the name anymore. He just wanted to torture the man to

death.

And he did so.

Making him unrecognizable.

"All women are alike," he kept whispering as he tortured him in various indescribable ways.

And once the man was dead after long torment, only then was he able to numb everything

from his mind. Everything.

Just the screams and torture scenes ran through his mind. He didn’t give him an easy death.

"I will never fall for you," he whispered to himself, eyeing the dead body. "But I will break

you and then mold you into what I want you to be, Sheharzaad. That I promise," he breathed

heavily and threw the knife before cleaning his bloodied hands with a cloth."Your after-

marriage life awaits you, Sheharzaad, and trust me, it’s not a fairy tale but the reality that

awaits you. I will make sure that you crave for death every day."

"Khan!" he shouted, and his servant came running into the cell.

"Yes, sir."

"Get rid of his dead body and bring Sheharzaad to my home," he roared. He couldn't wait to

show her what he had planned. He had overlooked her childishness, her tantrums, but now

he would show her the real monster she believed him to be.