All Rights Reserved ©

Chapter 1: The Disaster

Narrator: Himma Yakoob

The year was 2021. I was 21 years old. I was young and old, at the same time. And I was desperate....to escape.

The hard flesh of my father's hand collided against my cheek for the third time that day.

"You bitch, how dare you?!"

Oh, don't be alarmed. This is normal around here, I assure you.

As I clenched my jaw, and curled a fist at my side, my face hung limply against my collarbone, and I stared daggers into the marble floor underneath my trembling feet.

My father took in another hasty breath, and continued: "You think you're better than us, huh?!" He was screaming all of this in Urdu, by the way. It was our native language. "Just because you work now, you think you're fucking great?!"

His face was so flushed his beard seemed taped on, the graying of it contrasting the red. I almost let out a snort of laughter, taking in the way his pupils were shaking. He looked ridiculous.

"Forget it, she'll never understand anything." My mother waddled into the scene, her cheeks sagging, her lips protruded as she scowled. I hated her face when she was angry. It made her ten times uglier, with her heavy eyebags and disheveled hair. Did she know how ugly she looked? Should I have told her?

"She's a bitch, so just leave her be. We don't owe her anything. She can rot in her room for all I care."

I had three brothers too, in case you were wondering. They watched from the dark living room behind my parents, their scornful gazes evident to me even at that distance. I was in their way, afterall.

A few more insults later, my family got ready to leave without me, to some get together that I was now excluded from, because of my "behavior".

What was the fight even about? I don't recall....Was it money again? Or perhaps, about my expectations as their only daughter? Or maybe it was due to the fact that I had denied another marriage proposal? Like I said, I don't recall. I only recall the hitting that came afterwards. Followed by the screaming, yelling, accusing...etc...etc...etc

I listened to the doors slam shut behind them, then the screech of the metal gate, then it's closing as well. A smile broke on my dry lips, and I finally moved my ever so still body, walking towards my window. It showed me the veranda of our bungalow, so I could see the iron gate clearly from it.

When I was left completely alone in my disgusting home, I plugged in my earphones, and put up the volume on the song playing on my phone. After a few minutes, I was lying on the floor, eyes half-open, completely oblivious of the world around me, the music screaming in my ears.

I wasn't expecting anything to happen that day, good or bad. It was supposed to be like all my other days; a constant nothingness. However, for once, I was wrong.

Maybe my volume was too high, because I didn't hear a thing when it happened. I didn't hear the different people yelling and shouting, crying for help out on the street.

Perhaps I was asleep, because I clearly didn't realize that the roads of Karachi were being torn apart like tape being pulled off of a box, or pick up the rumbling of cars being thrown around and crashing into humans or trees.

I was so oblivious to it all. Like none of it would affect little old me. But then, someone started banging my iron gate, and I was forced out of my daze.

They were hitting the metal quite loudly, enough to make me swear and get into my feet, pulling out my earphones.

"Who is it?" I asked, opening the door that led to the verenda. I had to ask again, as the banging wasn't stopping, yet the human wasn't answering.

"God damn it," putting on some stray slippers that probably belonged to one of my brothers, I walked up to the gate, but before opening it, I was compelled to look up at the sky.

There was a line of smoke trailing across it, and the faint howls of sirens filled my ears. The smell of rotting metal hit my nostrils, and I winced, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

Something was not right. It was very wrong, abd whatever it was, it was out there.

The banging came back, more violent this time. There was also a slight whimper, and I couldn't help but think the person outside was either mute, or unable to speak due to their choke full sobs.

In a moment of indecision, I took a step back. If I opened the gate, whatever was happening outside, I would be subject to it. My heart pounded a little faster every time the person hit the door with their fist, but I just couldn't bring myself to own it. And then, it happened.

I gasped as the sharp point of a large blade pushed through the metal gate in front of me. The man must've been impaled, because his screams were loud, and painful, and sad.

I was frozen as I stared at this blade, stuck in between the gate and the person outside, shaking itself to break free.

The weilder of the blade pushed it around repeatedly, the man howling in pain, clearly still alive. I could only watch in horror as his blood splattered this way and that, a pool of it gathering at the foot of my driveway, seeping into the porcelain tiles inside.

Dizzy, I fell towards the wall, my breaths quick and panicked, my eyes fixated on the blade. I was going to faint from the shock, but I also knew I'd die if I did, so my body struggled against both, my breath agitated.

The blade finally found a way through, and slipped out of the jagged hole it had made in my gate of iron.

Through the tear the weapon had left, I watched as the man's body was shaken off and tossed to the side. In it's place, came the triangular structure of a robotic face, with two red shads as eyes, staring hungrily at me.
Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.