Mythri

Chapter 8

"Ah, Mythri," Kabir started, fiddling with the metal rod. Mythri stumbled backwards from her crouch, holding the metal bucket and cleaning rag. "Get inside, you have cleaning to do."

Mythri slowly got up, but remembered what Hema was going to say. This money was supposed to belong to her. If she didn't speak now, he would take it all for himself. The money was right there in the open. She needed to get it. IT IS MY MONEY. 

"K-K-abir," she started hoarsely. He looked at her as if he had forgotten she could speak.

"You're talking to me?" He shouted as she shivered. The cold, salty air stung against her cuts and she felt weak, powerless. His grip on the metal rod tightened. Mythri swallowed, but continued brazenly.

"Kabir, Hema said that the money belongs to me." Mythri rasped out.

Kabir's eyes flashed. "Hema?! Who's Hema?" The realization hit him a second later. "You talked to that woman!?" He got up from his crouch, and stood up, his burly frame towering over her skeleton. He mimed hitting her with the rod, and Mythri instinctively held up her calloused, dirty hands, shielding her face.

Kabir let out a dry laugh and closed the distance between him and Mythri as she turned away. He violently grabbed her hair, forcing her to look at him and listen to his words.

"Farhan and 'Hema' came from far away to let me know about this amount of money. It was supposed to be yours, as your father left you this money after building this house, before he passed away. However, you nicked from my salary for who knows how long," he explained, his face souring at the last part. "And, thus, I'm taking this as repayment."

Mythri's mouth dropped open. My father left me this money?  She smiled, remembering her father and his words about owning a couple of properties nearby, but it faltered as she realized the circumstances she was in. The wagon came every other week. It came every other week on a Monday. A special Monday that would fall tomorrow. If she could get all her money now, she could leave tomorrow. She needed to do something now. 

"Why did you k-kill Farhan and Hema?" Mythri asked, voice shaking.

Kabir looked at her for a long time. "If you're smart enough to nick coins from my pocket, you're smart enough to figure that out," he hissed. Mythri could see the bodies still floating on the water, a red stain in a sea of sapphire. They must have been the only people who knew that the money was going to be mine since my father passed away. But why hadn't Kabir killed her yet? Does he need me? she wondered. 

"Get up, we have to go," he growled, shoving Mythri's head aside as if she was a sack of flour. He pried the bucket from her hands and took it to the wall, scooping up the glimmering coins into the container. He finished filling the bucket up with the coins, and quickly ran inside the house as if he would be coming back shortly, leaving Mythri outside with the bucket. She had to think fast.

The metal beam was there. The bucket was there. She had never asked him so many questions in her life; her courage was there.

She needed to escape, and there were no choices left for her now. Kabir needed to go.