The wall.
The mucky, stained wall was what her eyes had been fixed on.
Observing different patterns, bloody patterns, dangerous weapons on it had been her prime interest since last week. Those different patterns would often divert her attention from the human body hung to the ceiling. Her face was on purpose kept towards her and her eyes staring at Sheharzaad. Staring deep in her soul, stealing all the life left in her. Her feet that were dangling in the air with her hair sprawled open. Her skin which was now turning blue and the smell of the dead mass already arising from it. Once or twice she had spotted insects crawling on the dead woman's feet.
The dead woman who was none other than Khaleda.
The week that she had spent here, all alone with that dead body, with minimal human inte
