His Personal Escort
Some time passed, and she wasn't aware of how much. He had ordered her to shift to the
raised slab supported by the wall from the chair. The slab had a mattress over it. The chains
still bound her, but she had a little access to the cell to some extent. The blindfold was half
the time on her eyes and the other half not. She was clueless about the outer world. She
would often think of the day when she would be released from this cell, how she would
cherish every small blessing around her. She already had that day planned in her mind. She
would look at the sky as long as she could, then walk, run, take a long shower, try smiling,
and whatnot.
She had begun to realize the value of the things she took for granted. She even realized what
a blessing it was to breathe in fresh air. Because the cell where she was kept was small, it
stank of blood and dead bodies. It became normal for her at some point. She had
disconnected from her past life. She considered her past life to be a good dream—a good
dream from which she woke up. And this cell was her reality. A reality that was becoming
hard to accept.
Her tears had died down. There were no tears left in her eyes. Whenever she cried, it pained
her eyes, so she tried not to cry. And if she did not want to stop the tears from her eyes, she
had to stop recalling her past life. Because whenever she recalled her past life, it filled her
eyes with tears. So she had to forcefully shift her mind to the instructions that were being
fed to her. She would keep on repeating those words until her body got tired. And when her
body got tired, she would sleep.
Sleep was her only solace. Her only escape. And she realized the value of good sleep in that
cell too. She was allowed limited hours of sleep. They would wake her up every morning by
throwing a bucket of cold water. Then her brain conditioning would start. Sometimes when
she showed her disdain for certain things that were being fed to her, they would dunk her
head in the water until she was close to losing consciousness.
She was tortured.
Mentally.
Emotionally.
And physically.
She was tired. But there was no one who could listen to her pleas, with whom she could
share her sorrow or how she felt. That would make her narrate the stories to the walls. And
then she would cry.
After that day, her encounters with him became minimal. He would come to the cell while
he sat and she stood in front of him with her hands crossed and head bowed. His fingers
stroked his stubble as he asked her certain questions, which she truthfully answered. And
then she would truly apologize for the error she committed by going with Hannan. Her
whole being would always shiver when she stood in front of him. Only one thought would
run in her mind, and that was not to upset him.
He didn't try approaching her sexually afterward. She was glad and, at the same time,
fearful.
One day, she was sitting on the mattress with her hands wrapped around her legs and her
head on her knees when the door to the cell opened. She thought it might be the man who
brought her food. Her stomach was already growling, and she was so hungry that her mouth
watered as she waited impatiently for the blindfold to go off.
The heavy metal door closed, and someone dragging a chair was heard. She thought it might
be that man who was here to repeat those words to her.
Her body began to shiver as her mind braced itself for the torture that was about to
commence.
"I... I belong to Shehryaar," she said before he could say anything.
Her mouth parted open, and her breath hitched when she felt someone brushing their
fingers against her cheek.
"Y-you c-can't t-touch m-me... I belong to Shehryaar," she said and tried brushing his hand
away, thinking it was that instructor touching her.
The next second, the blindfold was off, and she witnessed Shehryaar sitting in front of her.
The ground slipped beneath her feet as she began to shiver immensely.
Her first carved instinct was to look down. A tear already dropped from her eye as she
quickly stood up.
She thought of apologizing but decided otherwise. It was better not to say anything.
By the look of how tightened her throat was, one could easily decipher her breath was
hitched and she wasn't breathing.
She felt him holding her arm and forcing her to sit down, but she still didn't gaze up.
"Little lady, look up," he muttered with a hint of softness in his tone, and she quickly looked
up, not daring to go against his order.
He smiled before he caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. She was looking at him
with nothing but intense panic and fear, both emotions very much evident in her eyes.
Her fingers were wringing against each other as her heartbeat quickened with every
passing second. With his eyes boring into hers, she felt life escaping her legs as her vision
began to blur with tears.
It was just the immense fear that made her cry, and she didn't realize when a sob left her
mouth.
"Shh... stop crying,"
And she tried her best to do that. She felt as if her body was on high alert.
He cleaned her tears with the tips of his fingers and then fixed his forefinger underneath her
chin. "Are you ready to sign that contract, Sheharzaad?"
And she was utterly helpless.
He was at last going to make things official between them.
Soon... she would be his personal escort.
Because she belonged to him. And he would give her the treatment as he desired.