I TASTED BLOOD, mixed in dust and sand. It was salty, a little sticky and gritty. My mouth felt dry, and my throat parched.
I wanted to run my tongue over my lips, but they were swollen shut. I worked my fingers on my face, feeling for bruises, but only my lips and something under my right eye hurt . . . real bad.
Rini was nowhere in sight.
A shot of nervous adrenaline pumped in, and my senses returned.
They were three . . . the back of my head started throbbing, and I couldn’t think straight. I felt for it gingerly. My hair was moist and matted . . . blood. Although I did not feel the pain in the gash over the large lump that had sprung up, the movement sent excruciating pain shooting up from the lower right side of my ribcage, hitting the top of my skull.
There was still quite a bit of daylight left. Maybe it was early evening. It took all my remaining strength to sit up and look around to see where I was. The road was just within sight.
I was lying on a black rocky patch, on a ledge jutting out of the cliff, with little vegetation around. I could see the big maroon SUV gleaming in the drowning daylight. I was a bloody mess, my shirt was torn, and ripped-off buttons had left gaping holes. It hung askew on my frame. Most of my clothes felt stiff, with dried blood in brown patches. I couldn’t breathe easy; every breath I took triggered piercing pain in my chest . . . probably broken ribs.
I struggled to my feet and staggered towards the car.
*
The front doors were wide open. I peered inside. There she lay, on the back seat, clothes torn, dishevelled, her face bitten, and her body scratched. She was covered in blood and grime, yet bare. I turned away, feeling sick. The sudden chill made me shiver, and I flopped on the ground lifelessly. The sight had completely stripped me of my strength.
They had dragged her in here. There were signs of intense struggle everywhere. I wondered why some men are on the lookout to vent their fury and frustration on women like this.
Today, she had become the victim of such evil lust and perhaps unfulfilled desires.
I clambered in, reached out for the bottle of water in the holder, and sipped a little. I couldn’t open my mouth wide enough or long enough to drink more. I came around to the back seat. The stale smell of beer and cigarette smoke still hung heavy in the air. I rolled down the rear windows to flush it out and sat there dazed, unable to comprehend this ugly turn of events. Vexed at my failure, I began wiping her face with my wet handkerchief in vehement fury.
I cannot let anyone see her like this. No! Not even Rini. I kept mumbling. I went on and on, cleaning her. The shock intensified my efforts to wipe off the traces of their bestial lust from her body. I tried to cover her, buttoning her pants up and straightening whatever piece of the shirt was left on her. I felt better after I was done. It gave me time to recollect myself.
Now, I was ready to sprinkle some water on her face. She stirred and slowly opened her eyes and saw me bent over her. I expected her to scream and cry out loud, but she just tried to sit up. I helped her up, and she stretched back on the seat, drained of energy. The unfathomable depths of her eyes brimmed with painful ignominy. I quickly looked away, unable to bear the misery in those eyes.
I couldn’t speak, and she just wouldn’t. I gave her water; she sipped some and then pushed it away. I turned to tuck the bottle back and found one of her shoes on the seat where she lay. I bent down to look for the other. It was under the front seat. I wedged myself between the seats and lifted her feet.
“It is okay,” she uttered weakly, trying to withdraw her feet from my hands.
“Please!” I said sharply.
She immediately removed her hand, shocked at the steely rasp in my tone.
The edge in my voice was alien, even to me. A strange shade of anger had popped inside. It was so corporeal that I could feel the skin over my face going taut, ripping my wounds open.
I carefully wiped her feet with my handkerchief and put her soft leather slip-ons back on. I let her rest for a while, then helped her to the front with her arms around my shoulders. I felt a tiny fresh trickle of warm fluid rolling down behind my neck.
My wound had started bleeding again.
I settled and strapped her to the seat and reclined it further for her to relax.
“You are bleeding,” she mumbled.
I did not say anything, but patted her hands gently, reassuring her.
A splitting headache had begun, but my anger countered, quashing my pain.
I silently stood by her for a while, gently caressing her forehead and hair and gazing ahead into oblivion. My eyes fixed, but my mind not registering anything. She, too, did not say anything. She could feel I was livid with rage. I could burst at any moment, but I didn’t. She cupped my hand in both hands, rested her head on the seat, and closed her eyes, my hands on her lips.
The softness of her lips on my skin broke my spell. I let my hand rest there for a while to let her pain permeate deeper into my soul. It was something that I would dwell upon for the rest of my life. I wanted to soak up everything that hurt her. After a while, I gently withdrew my hand from hers. Leaving her there, I came to the back seat, my eyes inspecting the inside of the car. I picked up crushed beer cans and empty bottles from under the seat, carefully collected cigarette stubs, and put them in the crumpled cigarette case they had left behind.
They had taken their time, and I took mine.
An unnatural calm had descended on me, making me deliberate at everything I did. I wished they had shown up again.
I knew I would kill them this time, each one of them, all by myself, with my bare hands. I was not the same man they had attacked and injured so effortlessly. Steely resolve in its molten form flowed in my veins, strengthening and steadying my nerves, creasing out the pain with each pulsating moment.
My weak exterior cracked, and my rancour took a life form inside me, taking charge of my being. I had no strength left to prevent it. I was disappointed in myself, and the remorse weakened my cover, turning me inside out. My defeated self was pushed back, and the newer self emerged. Another entity took hold of my reins. Frankly, I had no intention of wrangling him off this time. I was relieved, for I could feel I was transforming into someone stronger. Someone who could protect the dignity that she entrusted to me.
Even at the stake of my life.
I took my time picking, wiping, dusting, and cleaning the entire interior of the car, and I collected everything, including my kerchief and the dust cloth, in a tiny polybag. The remnants of the day.
I crossed the road to the other side and flung the collected waste into the valley below. My eyes followed the bag, bouncing off the rocks and rolling down the valley until I could see it no more. I stood there staring into the nothingness, then dusted my hands in a little clapping gesture.
The sun, too, had gone down over the valley, leaving a greyish gloom of darkness around us. I had a sinister foreboding; the sinking sun or the descending darkness wasn’t the end; there was more darkness to follow. The glowing crimson edges of the shadowy black hills now looked ghastly.
I slowly turned away from it all, disgusted and failed.
The trickle behind my neck had slowed down.
I could feel her watching me doing all this, but neither of us spoke. I carefully re-inspected the entire inside of the car, satisfied with my work. I got a bottle of water and washed my hands. I gave her to drink, and she sipped some. I ran my fingers through her hair in soft strokes, combing and straightening them, tucking them behind her ears the way she always did. I bend down to touch my torn, swollen lips on her forehead. She relaxed her body at my touch and closed her eyes. I had all the courage now that any man could have to kiss the woman of his life.
It was our first kiss.
I left her side, went to the other side, and splashed my face with cold water, pouring a lot on my head to regain my strength to drive another hour and a half. I was drenched in water and blood, yet something smouldered deep inside me. Anger rekindled my resolve, and the pain and fatigue settled.
As I started the car, Rini reached out and cupped my hand on the gearshift. It could have been for her reassurance, or maybe mine, or possibly both. I am not sure. But I am certain she wanted me to know that we were in it together and were one—in pain.
She did not make me feel alone, even in my failure.
Tears started rolling down her cheeks, and she wept . . . silently.
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