Lost in a deadly game
796 Words
Hridhi Chatterjee:
‘Work, Hridhi, work!’ I told myself while I double checked my makeup. Work was the Only thing to keep me sane.
‘Work’, I told myself again. ‘Working would never get in vain.’Work was like...like my coffee table in front of me, now decorated with a fake glass of water to make the interviewee feel at home. (Like we interviewers wouldn’t need to feel at home)The coffee table was sitting there, serving its duty, totally unbothered by external circumstances and utterly motionless to the baffling twists in human mind.I looked at my pad scribbled with questions.
“You ready for the next interview?” Jake asked from the camera crew..
I tried to force a stiff smile, the one that got me praised for being ‘professional’. “Yes, let’s wait for Mr.Ackroyd.”
“I’m so sorry, miss,” one of them said. “He is not here. He cancelled it.”My jaw almost dropped but suddenly, Jake whispered,“Keep smiling. We are handling the Flynn case now.”
___________________
The interview began in a somewhat awkward way. I had no preparations.
No questions and obviously zero brain cells to give a crap about that nervous dude.
By the time the interview ended, Gill Flynn drank a liter of water in one go. I wondered whether he would empty the oceans out after doing a weeks of my job.
The lights were shining bright in the surrounding vintage cafes around my office when I finally got released for the day.
My colleagues came out smiling.
So peaceful.
Home Sweet Home.
But not for me.
Still, I had to smile anyway because that was part of my job. “Goodnight, see you after the weekend. Bye. Bye.”
I waited for a cab and then, suddenly, I felt a hand around my mouth and my legs leaving the room.
“Get the f**k off me!” I tried to shout.
But instead, I was carried to the other side of my office building, a place where the lights flicker like classic Horror movies.
“Good to see you again, Chatterjee,” said Ackroyd.
I breathed in.
“You don’t have any right to even bewitch my pure last name, Ackroyd,” I said, my knuckles white. “Why did you bring me here? Weren’t you supposed to be arrested by now?”
He laughed, the sound agonizing in my ears.
“Arrest me?” he asked, his voice low. “Even the president won’t be able to touch me.”
I looked around, finding an exit. But there was none. I was surrounded by him, by his huge body blocking every path to freedom.
“Why are you here?” I asked. Again.
“Hridhi, by this time, I’m sure you had already known that I don’t spare the flies that move past me.”
His hands crawled around my waist, making my danger signals burst open.
“Stop it, Ackroyd!” I shouted. “Please, don’t do this again. I’m married.”
He didn’t stop. His fingers moved past my skirt. It felt like-
Poison. f*****g poison.
I pushed him hard and he fell on the ground.
“I’ll give you a chance now,” said Ackroyd, grabbing my feet. “We will play a game.”
“I will not do anything with you, fucker!” I shouted. “Let me go. Just let me f*****g go.”
He stood up.
“We are now two players in a game. This game is called DEATH-DEATH.”
I looked at the flickering lights, ignoring his malicious blue eyes.
“And the rules are simple,” said Ackroyd. “Either you kill me or I’ll kill you.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” I said. “Have you gone mad?”
“You can have a secretary. My secretary will be my girlfriend and yours would be your husband. Bonus points for killing one of them.”
“Please, Ackroyd, this is bullshit!” I said.
“You’re going to withdraw the case first, Hridhi, ” said Ackroyd.
“No,” I shouted.
“You have to, little kitten,” said Ackroyd watching as the car swept in front of him. “Or, I’ll break all the rules of this game and go for your pathetic parents first. And I’m sure that you know how true I am to my words,”
He opened the car door and the care dashed out of the streets.
“You f*****g moron!” I shouted. “You f*****g bastard!”
But of course he couldn’t hear it.
Don’t you remember?
Kittens in those dark romance stories never do anything.
They just kneel and yield, trying to find meaning in a predator's gaze
- Writer
