Women's Revenge

Chapter Three, Episode Nine

Baraa walked through the street at night, her steps hesitant, the dim lights casting long shadows across the deserted sidewalks. She spoke to herself in a low voice:

— Where are you going, Baraa? Anywhere but the prison you’ve lived in all your life…

Her heart raced with every distant sound, with every lit window that flickered in the darkness. She felt watched, as if every street hid an unseen danger.

After a few minutes of walking, she arrived at one of the abandoned buildings. Exhaustion and fear pushed her to enter the dark basement. She leaned against the cold wall, trying to calm herself, but the feeling of unease refused to leave. Around her, life stirred in the basement: stray dogs and cats moved quietly, seeking shelter for the night just as she did.

Outside, a strange man stood near the building’s entrance. Jaber looked tense, watching the interior with curiosity and suspicion. He glanced at Baraa sleeping in the basement, slowly extinguished his cigarette under his shoe, then cautiously approached the door, testing the limits of the place.

Baraa did not know who was watching her, nor if she was safe, but she felt that the night in the city stretched endlessly around her, and that staying in the darkness was safer than returning to the dangerous streets.

Jaber stood near Baraa, watching her as she slept in the corner of the abandoned basement. The silence was heavy, as if the walls themselves were absorbing every sound.

Slowly, he pulled some money from his pocket and held it in his hand, moving cautiously, observing her reaction without stepping too close. Baraa woke suddenly, eyes wide with fear, her body trembling as she tried to rise and move away.

Jaber spoke in a calm but firm voice, attempting to assert control through words rather than force:

— Wait… Where are you going? Let’s talk.

Baraa tried to step back, her body tense, every movement echoing in the silent basement. Jaber remained standing, shadow stretching behind him, as if the entire room were closing in on her from every side.

Fear gripped Baraa, but she was not yet defeated. Her eyes scanned for an escape, for any window or door that might allow her to flee this dark place, where one wrong step could bring even more danger.

Jaber, Rashdi, and Samer were sitting in Jaber’s apartment, lounging on the chairs in the living room. The smoke from their hand-rolled cigarettes curled lazily into the dimly lit space, filling the room with a hazy, pungent smell.

Jaber leaned back, exhaling a cloud of smoke, his voice casual but sharp:

— That girl… she’s different. Not like the trash we usually deal with. She panics too quickly, barely opened the knife before she surrendered.

Rashdi scoffed, flicking ash from his cigarette:

— Without me, huh?

Jaber nodded toward the abandoned building on the first corner:

— She’s over at that place. You know the one.

Rashdi’s eyes lit up with recognition:

— Really? She’s there now? Fine, I’m going.

Without hesitation, Rashdi rose from his chair and headed toward the apartment door, moving with a mix of impatience and determination.

Samer jumped up from his seat, calling after him:

— Wait, I’m coming too! Don’t you see me?

Rashdi glanced back, a smirk playing on his lips:

— Don’t see me? Come on, man, don’t leave me to handle this alone. Get in front.

The two of them stepped outside, closing the door behind them with a soft click. The apartment fell silent once more, the smoke lingering in the air, a quiet reminder of the tension that had just spilled into the night.

Rashdi and Samer stood at the entrance of the dark basement, their shadows stretching across the cracked walls. In the dim light, they spotted Bara’a, curled against the wall, her frame trembling, her eyes wide with fear.

They stepped inside, the sound of their shoes scraping against the concrete floor. The space felt suffocating, a trap with no exit.

Rashdi’s gaze lingered on her with a hunger that made Samer smirk.

— Jaber wasn’t lying, Samer muttered. She’s different.

Rashdi tilted his head, frowning slightly.

— But she’s crying.

Samer waved a hand dismissively, his voice mocking:

— Don’t ruin it. You always see the empty half of the glass. Look closer.

Bara’a pressed herself against the wall, her voice breaking into desperate cries, echoing in the hollow basement. Her screams seemed to dissolve into the night, swallowed by the silence outside.

The shadows closed in on her. The broken walls, the darkness, the stench of damp cement — all bore witness as her strength faltered. Fear consumed her, until at last her resistance faded into the void, leaving nothing but silence.

Qadri stormed out of the room, his steps quick and heavy, as if the ground trembled beneath him. Rage carved deep lines into his face, and the dried blood on his forehead only sharpened his savagery. Inside his chest roared a chaos like a volcano, swallowing his breath, refusing to calm.

The house was silent, yet to him, the silence screamed. He turned in every direction, searching for a trace—an echo, a scent, a shadow that might betray Bara’a’s presence. Nothing. The empty bed, the door left slightly ajar, the missing keys… to his eyes, they were all daggers, each one stabbing deeper into his pride and authority.

He moved toward the window, staring out into the street drowned in darkness. He saw no one, but something in him was certain: Bara’a hadn’t gone far. His fist tightened, blood seeping again from the wound on his head, painting his fury across his face—a savage blend of pain and vengeance.

Through clenched teeth, he whispered:

“You won’t get far… I’ll find you… even if the earth splits open and swallows you whole.”

He pulled on his coat with a violent motion, shoved the door so hard it rattled in its frame, and stepped into Cairo’s night—a night boiling with the same chaos that raged inside him.