Faizan swam in and out of consciousness, still feeling the meaty wetness between his legs as he lay alone in the room. The events that had occured replayed in his dreams in sick and foreboding ways that made his slumber very restless. Inaya was pleasuring him with her mouth while she cried, the salty tears flowing down his penis, he was fucking her mother’s skull while her husband watched. He tried to resist them even in his dream but it was like that deep, dark power within him was trying to bring out some sick, twisted part of him that he had never known had existed or of whom he had caught only glimpses. When he finally did wake up, all the images from his dreams hit him hard and he looked down at the rotting skull of the landlady between his legs. There were flies swimming all around it and a sick pervasive smell invading his nostrils. The penis quill had gone and he could feel his normal flaccid penis between the skull.

He screamed.

Guilt and anxiety had built up inside him and he screamed as hard as he could and when that was too much, he broke into loud wails as tears streamed down his eyes. He tried his best to fight against the knots until his wrists were bleeding and would only stop to dry heave to the side when it had become too much for him.

He tried to shake his body as much as he could to dislodge the landlady’s head but the coagulated blood and flesh had stuck to his groin and thus would not budge from the force. He had to stop trying eventually because moving his body back and forth reminded him of the dream he had had and all it did was make him more insane.

He cried and screamed for what felt like hours, the insanity beginning to creep in until he felt a vibration. Was that the door? He suddenly began to feel even more anxious. What if it was one of the villagers? What would they do if they saw him like this? Maybe it was one of his friends? What would they think if they saw him like this?

A young man walked into the room with a bloodied white shalwar kameez and Faizan was shocked when he recognised who it was. Khalid stood in the doorway, an investigative stare on his face, that turned into surprise and then shock when he recognised him.

“Faizan? Is that you? Oh my god...”

Faizan wanted to reply but no words came out of his mouth. The look on his face, however, told Khalid whatever he needed to know. He came running to Faizan and looked down at his naked body.

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“What the hell happened here?” he asked. A look of horror, but also sympathy on his face, as he tried to figure out if he wanted to remove the body or the knots. He decided to go for the knots while Faizan blabbered and sobbed, trying to put his thoughts into words.

Khalid removed the knots and Faizan instantly went to work on removing the body, cringing as he felt the coagulated blood and flesh pulling onto the skin of his groin, like melted wax. He pushed hard and threw the body to the side, turning to look at the landlady’s disfigured face that had a circle of darkened blood in the middle as if there was a black hole inside her face. He began working on the knots on his feet with Khalid but he was unable to do so because of the lack of focus and the fact that his hands were shaking. When he had been freed, he ran to the adjacent dingy bathroom and began to wash away at the mess on his groin, having to use soap for some of the more stubborn stains. He looked at himself in the mirror and looked in disgust at his zombie-like expression, his face was creased, his eyes darkened and his eyes looked hollow. It looked like he had walked the plains of Hell itself and stared at the devil, but he knew what he had gone through was much worse. He had managed to finally clean his penis, and he could feel some rashes there, a reminder of what he had gone through. He was so disgusted he wished he could cut it off himself.

He saw Khalid looking at him from the reflection in the mirror and turned around to look at him. He had a glass of water that he handed to Faizan who gulped it instantly. He didn’t care he was naked even if he saw Khalid awkwardly looking down as he stood there, trying to sate the burning fire of thirst in his throat. He began gulping down water from the jug that Khalid had brought, who looked around for something. After a while, he brought him a fading white salwar kameez that he wore, the faint smell of cleaning powder on it.

When Faizan was done, he looked at Khalid and shook his head. Khalid understood that he meant not to ask him what had happened. Faizan looked at Khalid’s bloodied shirt and figured he had gone through shit of his own.

“Where is everyone?” Faizan croaked looking around, tears still running down his eyes. “What the hell is going on here?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that shit hit the fan once Daniel went with Shikhar to get the car repaired. The landlady went nuts and tried to murder the girls and so we escaped,” answered Khalid and Faizan cringed as he became aware of the body on the bed again. “They tried to wake you up too but you wouldn’t budge. And well, we were running towards the mechanic near the masjid when we got separated by a mob. I haven’t been able to find them yet.”

Faizan sighed looking down at his feet. He felt disheartened but if Khalid was alive then it meant there was hope for the rest.

“I found Daniyal by the way,” he answered and Faizan’s ears pricked up. “He’s in one of the cages at the big slaughter grounds. I was just about to free him when they caught me and I had to run all the way here until that big lumbering bastard tried to catch me. I found him outside and then I heard your cries, holy fuck did you actually manage to kill him.”

“No, it wasn’t me. It was...” he trailed off gesturing to the body nearby. Khalid nodded.

“I see. And I’m guessing she killed all those people in the living room too.”

“One of those is her husband.”

“Fuck.”