He slowly opened his eyes, his eyelids felt heavy, everything was a blur, hues of color blocked his sight. He blinked his eyes a few times, and the chair came back into it's place, the fan got back to the ceiling and the door got it's colors back, but he still was not able to identify the source of the heavenly light which filled the room. It blocked his vision at first, but soon his eyes began to settle.
The flaking grey paint, showed the signs of a place falling apart, making the cracks in the wall clearly visible, the grey paint made the place look awful, crummy and remorseful, yes remorseful as if it was crying for help. There was a medium sized table in front of him, seemingly of a very cheap wood, and a seat in front of that, which with the leather covering seemed out of place. What's a sleek chair doing in this mess? he thought.
Finally, after a few moments of dizziness, his eyes flew wide open, his head throbbed, and the bones beneath his eyebrows hurt as if someone has bashed them at least a hundred times. Just as he realized that his hands were tied to the chair, and his feet too. He panicked. Where am I? What the hell is all this?
He tried to memorize the last thing that happened to him. He remembered, rainfall, heavy downpour, he was rushing towards his car, from that quaint and queer little bar at the end of Street no. 27 with his hands tightly clutching the box of six gorgeous little Murree beer-cans, their magnificence was a feast to his eyes and lips and heart, which was then drenched in the flood of emotions like hate, ambivalence, regret and the feeling you get when you realize the biggest mistake of your life.
Yes, he had made a fair share of mistakes in his life. But what he regretted the most was what he had loved a few days ago. It was the biggest mistake of his life, yet he was glad he had made this one. It was Zashe Riaz, who with her huge brown eyes, olive skin, feminine curves and long flowing hair destroyed him, devastated him.
He remembered clearly now, clearly what happened before he passed out, the blackness wrapping itself around him like a blanket in winter. He got into his car, water dripping from his hair as his green eyes were soaked in rainwater and tears, he was in a state of mind, you get in, when you are temporarily shocked. So shocked that you feel numb, and your sensation is no longer there.
He started the car, and as soon as he reached the third street, his speed was already above hundred. He drank beer, and cried, drank and cried, and increased his speed. After two cans and 120mph, the car got out of control, and the world started whirling, round and round.
What happened after that? No idea.
The present situation is, that he has a few bruises on his head, a scratch there a little cut here, tied up to a chair, in an ancient room, filled with a heavenly light, source unknown. How he ended up here, is another mystery.
But all this pain, all this misery and nausea reminded him of none other than Zashe. Zashe, the girl who had caused him so much pain. The girl with the tattoo. The first time he saw her, was at Captain Cook, her black sleeveless blouse revealing the flame-tattoo on her arm, and her skin-fitted jeans, portraying her ability to seduce, without even knowing it. She was out with her friends, and he was eating dinner, alone, silently. When she came up like rock music suddenly blaring from the speakers.
"You, have change?" For a few moments, he stared at her, and tried to discover and rediscover every feature on her gorgeous face. Her large brown eyes, with hidden innocence somewhere, her smooth skin and full lips, painted red. Anyone can fall in love with her, she was the chic material.
And for a moment, it seemed she was doing the same. He was not bad looking at all. His green eyes, can allure people, they had the ability to make people stop and stare. His french goatee, and the ear-piercing, made him look rude and arrogant. When in fact, he can be the most loving person, you might ever know. His good height, and muscular built makes him stand out.
"Umm... I... a... Never mind." And she trailed off, walking the walk of a cat.
It was that day and it is today, he has never stopped loving her, even when two days ago, Dr. Fahim, at Shifa Hospital told him that she was no more there to return his love back to him, he still loved her.
Now where is he? Stuck somewhere even he doesn't know. Life stopped "moving on" for him, two say ago. On that dreadful and bleak December-
His thoughts were disturbed by the appearance of a silhouette at the place, where a door should have been. The silhouette belonged to a very tall and gorgeous woman, with long waist-length hair. Was there really a woman or the alcohol was the reason of this hallucination?
He was confused, he squinted, and a feeling of dread came over him. It was impossible and unimaginable. Was it really her? Or is it another way of the brain playing games. Is this even possible?
Can it be her?
"Oh." Out of his wondrously large vocabulary, he was able utter only this two-letter word at the moment.
The flaking grey paint, showed the signs of a place falling apart, making the cracks in the wall clearly visible, the grey paint made the place look awful, crummy and remorseful, yes remorseful as if it was crying for help. There was a medium sized table in front of him, seemingly of a very cheap wood, and a seat in front of that, which with the leather covering seemed out of place. What's a sleek chair doing in this mess? he thought.
Finally, after a few moments of dizziness, his eyes flew wide open, his head throbbed, and the bones beneath his eyebrows hurt as if someone has bashed them at least a hundred times. Just as he realized that his hands were tied to the chair, and his feet too. He panicked. Where am I? What the hell is all this?
He tried to memorize the last thing that happened to him. He remembered, rainfall, heavy downpour, he was rushing towards his car, from that quaint and queer little bar at the end of Street no. 27 with his hands tightly clutching the box of six gorgeous little Murree beer-cans, their magnificence was a feast to his eyes and lips and heart, which was then drenched in the flood of emotions like hate, ambivalence, regret and the feeling you get when you realize the biggest mistake of your life.
Yes, he had made a fair share of mistakes in his life. But what he regretted the most was what he had loved a few days ago. It was the biggest mistake of his life, yet he was glad he had made this one. It was Zashe Riaz, who with her huge brown eyes, olive skin, feminine curves and long flowing hair destroyed him, devastated him.
He remembered clearly now, clearly what happened before he passed out, the blackness wrapping itself around him like a blanket in winter. He got into his car, water dripping from his hair as his green eyes were soaked in rainwater and tears, he was in a state of mind, you get in, when you are temporarily shocked. So shocked that you feel numb, and your sensation is no longer there.
He started the car, and as soon as he reached the third street, his speed was already above hundred. He drank beer, and cried, drank and cried, and increased his speed. After two cans and 120mph, the car got out of control, and the world started whirling, round and round.
What happened after that? No idea.
The present situation is, that he has a few bruises on his head, a scratch there a little cut here, tied up to a chair, in an ancient room, filled with a heavenly light, source unknown. How he ended up here, is another mystery.
But all this pain, all this misery and nausea reminded him of none other than Zashe. Zashe, the girl who had caused him so much pain. The girl with the tattoo. The first time he saw her, was at Captain Cook, her black sleeveless blouse revealing the flame-tattoo on her arm, and her skin-fitted jeans, portraying her ability to seduce, without even knowing it. She was out with her friends, and he was eating dinner, alone, silently. When she came up like rock music suddenly blaring from the speakers.
"You, have change?" For a few moments, he stared at her, and tried to discover and rediscover every feature on her gorgeous face. Her large brown eyes, with hidden innocence somewhere, her smooth skin and full lips, painted red. Anyone can fall in love with her, she was the chic material.
And for a moment, it seemed she was doing the same. He was not bad looking at all. His green eyes, can allure people, they had the ability to make people stop and stare. His french goatee, and the ear-piercing, made him look rude and arrogant. When in fact, he can be the most loving person, you might ever know. His good height, and muscular built makes him stand out.
"Umm... I... a... Never mind." And she trailed off, walking the walk of a cat.
It was that day and it is today, he has never stopped loving her, even when two days ago, Dr. Fahim, at Shifa Hospital told him that she was no more there to return his love back to him, he still loved her.
Now where is he? Stuck somewhere even he doesn't know. Life stopped "moving on" for him, two say ago. On that dreadful and bleak December-
His thoughts were disturbed by the appearance of a silhouette at the place, where a door should have been. The silhouette belonged to a very tall and gorgeous woman, with long waist-length hair. Was there really a woman or the alcohol was the reason of this hallucination?
He was confused, he squinted, and a feeling of dread came over him. It was impossible and unimaginable. Was it really her? Or is it another way of the brain playing games. Is this even possible?
Can it be her?
"Oh." Out of his wondrously large vocabulary, he was able utter only this two-letter word at the moment.
