You will be safe as long as you play along

You will be safe as long as you play along

You will be safe as long as you play along

The words won't just get out of my head. Its 6'o clock in the morning and I am wide awake. Way to go for a late sleeper! What worried me most when I joined the army, was how I was going to wake up early. But, as it seems now, I have got no problem with that.

Today I am going to execute my plan. But instead of plotting it, I am wondering what his words mean.

Play along? Is this a play of some kind? Am I still in India? Is this a film set where I am playing the victim?

Oh, come on, Nehali!

But really, what did he mean by that?

I was relieved yesterday that I didn't have to become his sex slave or smuggled for my precious organs, instead do normally what I am supposed to do. But now given his words, I cannot help but wonder the underlying meaning. I look around the room that's supposed to be mine for the first time, as after yesterday's fiasco, I went to bed in a dizzy state and too tired to take in my surroundings.

I even get my own room, what a luxury.

Now, that I see it, the room is moderate. There's a double bed in the middle where I am currently sitting upright, wide awake. There's a wardrobe on the left end of the room and a table beside my bed, a single chair overlooking the single source of sun's rays in my room. My eyes focus on the dust particles swirling in the morning ray of sunlight that falls on the chair, warming the wooden handles.

There's no attached bathroom. That means I have to ask him where I am supposed to take a bath.

Fortunately, I took a bath yesterday morning before I came here. I really didn't pay attention to drinking water yesterday and I used the bathroom downstairs just twice to pee when he left me yesterday after that,

You will see a lot more than my grey eyes tonight!

Why does he say things he doesn't mean? And I am certainly relieved about that.

I slowly make my way up to the cupboard where I suppose my clothes are. I am right, as I find a few neatly folded salwar kameezes. I pick up a yellow one. As I pull open the drawer, I find female underwears.

Aren't I just glad to have these?

My face takes an incredulous look as I find a kajal stick, face powder, two sets of earrings and a lipgloss in one of the drawers. Looks like he wants me to dress up! For a moment I just stare at the open wardrobe, wondering if its a dream. When I woke up in that dingy room, I had imagined a fate worse than death, but looking at my current condition I am in a much better state. Atleast I get food, clean clothes, clean water. That's a luxury for a prisoner of war.

I take my clothes and make my way to his room and gently knock on his door.

"Yes!" Comes a raspy voice from inside.

Ohhh, God!

"I was wondering if I could use the bathroom. Uhh, I need a bath before going to the hospital ." I state, perking up my ears for any indication of what he's doing.

I hear footsteps before he pulls the door wide open. He is wearing a pair of white, loose-fitting trouser and a shirt. I try to look anywhere but his eyes. So, I fix my eyes on his chest, shielded by his off white shirt. A rapid thrum ensues when my eyes catch the slight chest hair peeking from the top of his shirt. Have you never seen a bare chest? For God's sake stop acting like a village maiden! I don't mis-fitting buttons on his shirt. He must have put on his shirt hastily and I really don't want to think how he looked while he was sitting in his room with a bare chest. Certainly not!

"There's a bathroom to the far end of that side", he points his finger to the supposed bathroom. My eyes follow his fingers pointing to a closed door. "But unfortunately some repair work is going on there. So you will have to use the bathroom attached to my room."

Shocked, my eyes finally find his, immediately blown away by the intensity of his grey eyes.

"In your room?"Is the lock okay? Did I make a mistake, coming here? Why did I even need to take a bath?

He steps back and points me his bathroom. I am successfully ignored.

I am just going to use his bathroom and I will change there only but it feels strangely intimate to get in his bathroom with all his supplies.

As I make my way to the bathroom he speaks up again, "Oh, you can use my shampoo and soap. Yours will be coming in today"

I nod without turning back. I reach inside and lock the door first, pulling it once to make sure the lock's okay. I hang my clothes on the rod and then start to peel off my clothes.

His shampoo and his soap? I wonder as I turn on the shower.

"Ouch!"

I had totally forgotten about the gash on my back. I gulp bitting my lips hard to mask the pain as I slowly try to take off my dress trying to avoid any injury. Yesterday I had just washed off the blood and dirt. The clothes were loose-fitting so it didn't hurt. And I was too overcome with the turn of events to even care. A night's sleep has my brain working again. Since it wasn't taken care of, it's got even more raw and painful. I barely take off the dress and switch on the shower when the sudden stream of gushing hot water on my already aching back makes me literally shriek out of pain, "Oh holy mother!"

I immediately scurry out of the way of the running stream of water.

"What's wrong?" I hear his voice before the door opens almost immediately.

Darn interfering bastard! Isn't that obvious? He sure doesn't know anything about consent.

I turn around immediately, my naked back facing him, crossing my arms across my chest but I have no access to any of the clothes. To get them I have to turn back and face him. Meanwhile I keep chanting, 'It's just the anatomy of a female body. Nothing to be ashamed of.'

I hear him gasp. I wonder if it's from my naked self or from the ugly gash on my backside.

"Let me help you." He whispers. Certainly the gash made him gasp.

"Please, get out! " I shout, more like plead way too embarrassed. Did I ask for help? Did I?

I don't think he cares as he strides inside closing the door behind him and closes the shower. My previous embarrassment takes the form of anger. I close my eyes reigning in my growing temper. Can't shout, can't protest.

Couldn't you just bear a little pain? No, you had to shout!

From my peripheral vision I see, he takes a bucket, sets the temperature and fills it up with lukewarm water. I am still butt naked. The only thing keeping my sanity intact is that my back is facing him with that ugly scar.

And he hasn't tried anything. Yet.

Ugly scar? Why does it even matter? Somehow in spite of the situation a part of cares how ugly the scar looks like. I wonder if I am just bat-shit crazy.

"Turn around."

"What?! No way! Get out!" Is he crazy?

Don't act like a savior when you are the one holding me captive. I sneer at him internally.

"Thanks for worrying, but I can take it from here." I state, trying to coax him into leaving me alone.

He gets up and as I think he is going to leave he comes behind me, the material of his clothing brushing against my bare back, before he takes my hands across my chest in his grip. My breath hitches at the proximity, the pain from my wound, forgotten. He holds them upward and then his hands leave mine momentarily before he wraps a cloth around me such that my back is open to him but covers my necessities. He doesn't immediately move back as his chest touches my bare back slightly on the sides and his warm breath falls on my shoulders. A warm breath warms a small area on my shoulder. My eyes close involuntarily for a second, reeling in the sensation. A slight brush of beard and something soft and moist touches my shoulder before he moves back.

Did he just. . . lick me?

I finally breathe as he moves away, but I miss the proximity immediately. Why?

"Hold it here." He says pressing the cloth to the top of my butt crack. His voice appears strained.

Is he affected because of me?

Funny, how a part of me stands straight, chin pointed up as if proud and other half screams, 'Danger'.

With one hand I old the cloth above my butt crack and with another over my breasts so that it doesn't slip down. He makes me sit on a stool and then bends my head forwards. He lathers up the shampoo on my head and his fingers literally work like magic on my scalp.

How can his fingers be so magical and sinister at the same time?

The bathroom is fairly large, but feels too small and everything in here smells masculine with a slight hint of jasmine. It's getting harder to breathe with every passing moment. Either the proximity is seriously messing with my limbic system or it has to do something with an underlying disease.

Must be some underlying disease!

Moreover, his shampoo smells like pine that is purely masculine. It feels like he is leaving his smell on me, marking me.

Must be some underlying disease!

Symptoms are: Tachycardia, heightened senses, increase in cutaneous vasodilation, too frequent vaginal discharge.

Is there a disease with these set of symptoms? Before I can mentally go through the list of diseases I might be suffering, his hands stop their magic as he starts pouring water to wash it off. He washes my hair, and I shrink away involuntarily when he swipes off the soapy water cascading down my back before it reaches my wound. His hands feel large and calloused swiping off the water off my back.

"Now use the remaining water to wash off. I will wait outside."He states.

"Do not wear the kameez." He says before striding out, closing the door behind him.

Author's Note:

Back with another chapter. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing this down. Don't forget to press the star button at the bottom of your screen. Another hot update coming up tomorrow ( I mean today*winks*).

Facts:

Limbic System: Controls our sexual desires.