SHE was bored. The music was pumping. The drinks were flowing. And she was dressed to kill. She stood in front of the bar, running her eyes over the couples slow dancing. And then she saw him…
There was a glass of wine in her hands, and his too. She could still feel the fire of his foul breath on her skin, three years back.
The serrated edge of a knife held against her neck and acerbic mutterings from his wide mouth. Her hands were tied behind her legs, her body arching in pain; she could only hear and see him. Her mouth was stuffed with cotton dipped in something that smelled like petrol.
“I want to I slash this vein here … so blue and tender”, he had said, his finger tracing a line. “It’s a pity you are so young, only twenty … so naïve and inexperienced. But now you have seen what only a few have my Angel. “
She had met him at a party just like this one; and he had charmed her. But what had followed left scars on Angel’s mind and body forever. He had cut and bruised her, but when the knife was to slit her veins, she had wrenched her hands free, fought him and escaped. She still couldn’t fathom where that strength had come from.
Angel had left the city, never to see him again until today. She could now see him hypnotising the woman with him, her pupils dilating, her fingers running the length of his arms, the same strength, spinning the same web.
‘The Den’, he had called this game, he had played it with many unsuspecting women before her, and he still continued. She had to save this vulnerable woman, she sent the barman to summon her, feigning an urgent call.
Angel gripped her wrist when she came outside.
‘Who are you?’ the young woman cried.
‘You must come with me! … You are in danger,’
Angel cried, flashing her old college batch, pretending. ‘I am a detective.’ The young woman thankfully believed her.
‘No, come to my house,’ the woman said.’ It is safe; my parents are home … they are cops.’
‘Ok … ‘Angel said.
They ran into her car, and the young woman drove them to her house, on the outskirts of the city. It was dark inside.
Something stopped Angel in her tracks. ‘No …’ Angel said. ‘Drive me back to the city….’
‘It is ok … my parents are inside,’ the woman said, and pulled her in.
Angel was too intoxicated to protest. The door opened, she stepped into the living room, and then … the same stench.
‘Welcome back Angel … Did you think I wouldn’t find the only one who ever escaped me?’ the voice said, laughing.
By Trisha Bhattacharya, Times of India, Kolkata