BEING YOURS

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A shooting pain sprang from his core as he moved, his body ached, stung, pulsed... he groaned, shifting his weight to lie on his back. Blinding rays pierced his eyelids and he squinted his eyes, groaning once more as he tried to block the lights.

He fluttered his eyes open and tried to sit up which he did with much effort. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was.

He remembered asking Lawrence to drop him after a long drive and the helpless driver left after Ali threatened him if he didn't.

He had then walked far to an unknown destination only to collapse due to his weak system.

Now only Al-Aleem knows where he is or for how long he's been there.

He tried to get on his feet which he managed to after much effort, everywhere pained so much but he wasn't ready to deal with that.

He slipped on his slippers which were lying in different locations and checked to see which lane would lead somewhere, anywhere.

He heard voices and footsteps and he turned to the direction only to meet a group of men and cops heading towards him.

They stopped for a moment before they hurried to him, asking if he was alright. The cops just stood there watching.

"Who are you?" Ali asked in a croaky voice not minding to sound nice.

"We saw you here and called the police, are you okay? What happened?" One of the two men answered.

"Where am I? Where is this place?"

"Mahuta."

"I don't... I need to get back home."

"Where do you live?" One of the policemen asked to which Ali ignored, reeling away.

The police stomped to him and seized him by the arm making a pulse of pain shoot up in his abdomen. He groaned and clutched the part, turning with a blazing glare to the policeman.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"You don't raise your voice at an officer!" The man shot back.

Ali gaped at him and decided to ignore the idiot, he doesn't have time for fools. He furthered ahead, hearing the police ordering him to stop and the others asking him to just let him go.

Ali walked through the bushy path, weakness, pain and thirst making him hate his life. He stopped by a tree, supporting himself with the trunk and checked to see what was pulsing in his abdomen. He saw the stitch there which has been long overdue slowly bleeding.

He hissed, despising his life more. He plodded through the rough path and fortunately, he reached a road. He looked left and right but didn't know how to start getting a ride. He had no money on him and doesn't even know how far he was from home.

He stopped a man that's passing by and asked how far he was and got his answer.

"You can get a tricycle or bus to get you to Zaria, it shouldn't be more than #200." The man added and Ali only nodded, not even thanking.

He could just trek, moreover he won't even get a free ride.

I can do this. He reminded himself.

He walked for a few minutes and just had to look for a place to rest. He found a shade and took a load off on the ground, leaning over the tree.

He took in deep breaths, his throat as arid as a desert.

An old but well-taken-cared-of golf parked in front of him and he waited to see who it was.

It was one of the men that were with the police earlier and he crouched before him, asking if everything was alright.