'Naari' - Woman
(A collection of short stories to inspire)
"Hey, you fight like a girl!" he said.
"You bet I do!" she smiled, swinging her sword.
Boys are given the universe in which to carve out their identities, the promise of infinite space fo...
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I lie awake on my bed, staring at the stark white ceiling. My thoughts are spinning faster than the ceiling fan which groans and splutters over my head. The doctors don't appear again. A lone nurse peeps in to dress my wounds. By that point, my wounds are stinging so badly that I request the nurse to sedate me again. And as the searing pain of the medicine through my system, settles into the numbness of a painless bliss, I drift in and out of consciousness.
In my oneiric state, I hear voices and shuffled footsteps but I don't move or respond. My body needs rest to recuperate and heal and it needs sleep. I let the thoughts roll off my mind and welcome the blankness of the dark. Days drag on into nights and soon I lose count of time. It can be one day or ten or even one month. I take my meds without complaint and am satisfied living in the chrysalism of ignorance.
Until one day my head clears a bit and I realise that I have lost track of time. I try to open my eyes but my eyelids feel like lead. Gradually or begins to come back to me. I had asked to be sedated and then they had kept on pushing meds into my system. What day is it? What happened to my unfinished task? My thoughts get jumbled into jelly as I try to lift up my body which groans uncooperatively.
The nurse rushes in just then with the evil syringe that keeps me under. I shake my head vehemently, trying to form coherent words to refuse her. She grips my arm forcefully, the injection aimed right as my vein. I try to jerk away from her grip with the last remaining ounce of strength in me. I feel a sharp pinch and see red. The needle has broken off from the hub of the syringe and is dangling precariously, one end in my vein, the top sticking out with blood trickling in drops, like little red flowery buds, that wilts and splashes on my skin like a fallen flower.
Time seems to stand still as I drag my unwilling body and my numb arms, ripping the needle off me. I hold the railings in an attempt to sit up, but my drugged stupor is costing me my strength. The world reels around me and there is a constant buzzing in my head.
I hear agitated voices and realise she is calling someone. It'd be good if the doctors come in. I would tell them all against giving sleeping meds to patients, sedating them against their will. The door is thrown open and two men dressed in white coats, walk-in. There's an evil smile playing on their lips and I realise a bit too late that they aren't real doctors. The grab me and force me back onto the bed, even as I struggle against brute force.
I feel the pinch of the dreaded needle and the rush of bliss as my world fades to dark again.
__________
I wake up to pitch-black darkness. I open my eyes wider and wider but it's still darkness around. I realise to my horror that I'm not in the hospital anymore. I'm somewhere else, far away. I can feel the dampness of the floor under me. I close my eyes and concentrate on the sound of water dripping somewhere.
Drip Drip Drip
The water makes a surprisingly melodious staccato that almost lulls me back to sleep but I force my eyes open. I'm an investigator. I can't just give in to situations. I knew what I was getting into before taking up this case. But I didn't know it'd be this horrific.
