Chapter 3: Help
As she swallowed her fifth shot of tequilla, the world around Khushi became a whirlpool. She shivered, relishing the fiery sensation flooding her veins. Cindy had been right. Coming to the club had been a great idea. In the midst of the deafening music, the tornado of Torontonians and the hundreds of alcoholic drinks, she could barely remember the chaos in her life.
Speaking of Cindy, where was she? She swiveled around in her chair and squinted. Focussing after such a flurry of drinks was close to impossible. She vaguely recalled Cindy's voice gushing over the crowd of eligible bachelors. But that was that. The rest seemed to be a blank spot in her memory. And now? Now Cindy was nowhere to be found.
Khushi closed her eyes as a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. Of course. The after-effects of the alcohol. She winced at the sour taste of her bile, feeling sick at once. She shakily made it to her feet as the nausea kicked in at last. This was not good. She turned to the bar tender. "Where's the washroom?" But her voice came out as a choked whisper. The tender was well into his 80's and probably hard of hearing. He was completely white. His hair, which was balding towards the centre, his skin, his mustache, and his beard. Just replace his white shirt and overalls with a red suit and he'd be the ideal Santa Clause. She bit back the bubbling laughter that the mental image conjured. Whether it was for sheer politeness or the fact that she was going to puke any minute now, she didn't know. "Where's the washroom??!" She repeated, louder this time. Luckily, she had his attention. He motioned with his thumb to the left side of the room. She blinked, trying to focus. Sure enough, there was a door...or something of it anyways. The drinks were proving to be experts in vision distrortion. Ugh.
Khushi stepped away from the bar, unable to think straight, let alone walk straight. But as she slowly made her way into the crowd of sweaty people, the nausea got the better of her. As if in reflex action, she covered her mouth, increasing her effort to walk by two-fold. With each footstep she took, she felt all the more sick. For a moment, she didn't think she would make it to the washroom at all! But she had to. For the sake of her own reputation she had to. Khushi could already hear her friend's voice admonishing her. "I told you to put down those drinks! Why do you bother drinking if you can't hold in your liquor?" Ugh. She was dreading it already.
Suddenly, Khushi felt a warm hand grip her wrist. She gasped, wincing at both the surprise of the sudden movement and the immediate pain that coursed up her arm. The next few events happened too quickly for her to register. Before she could get a grip on her racing heart, she was whisked away from the crowd and dragged into a particularly empty corner of the club.
This part of the club was quiet and it held no greater than five people with the exception of her and her pursuers. Most of them had passed out drunk and the remaining few probably weren't sober enough to even think properly. Khushi gazed down at her arm, feeling it numbing under her captor's tight hold. Slightly dazed, her eyes rose to meet his. Shockingly blue. Chilling. A shiver ran down her spine and her eyes lowered as if on their own accord. He had a cold grin plastered to his face as his hot gaze travelled gradually across her body. Behind him, trailed four other men, with a strikingly similar resemblance. "Heyy... looky here boys! We got ourselves a girl for the night! 10 dollars an hour... whaddaya say baby...?" An echoe of laughter with murmurs of agreement followed.
"L...let me go..." Khushi declared, speech slurred. Her nails dug into the skin of her pursuer as she tried violently to pry him off. "Fiesty eh? We like that... don't we boys?" He whispered hotly. He bent forward, giving her ear a hard nip. Khushi recoilled. His breath smelled of fresh alcohol against her skin. They were drunk beyond limits. "I said...l..let me..go...." Their cold laughter seemed to bounce off of every wall in the club. Help. I need help. She thought to herself. It was the only thought in her mind. Help. "Leave... me.. alone!" She screamed.
They began surrounding her. Forming a tight circle. "I said let me go!!!" She blinked back the tears threatening to fall as she tried to find a form of escape.They were her predator and she, their prey. As they made their way into her, the dread within her deepened. The dread, as well as the reality of the situation. She was trapped. And there was no one even remotely sober to help her. Falling to her knees in defeat, she whispered one last time, "Please... You...you don't have to... do this..." But to no avail. The last thing she remembered was seeing her favourite red cardigan pulled off of her and ripped into shreads before she collapsed into mind-numbing darkness.
As she swallowed her fifth shot of tequilla, the world around Khushi became a whirlpool. She shivered, relishing the fiery sensation flooding her veins. Cindy had been right. Coming to the club had been a great idea. In the midst of the deafening music, the tornado of Torontonians and the hundreds of alcoholic drinks, she could barely remember the chaos in her life.
Speaking of Cindy, where was she? She swiveled around in her chair and squinted. Focussing after such a flurry of drinks was close to impossible. She vaguely recalled Cindy's voice gushing over the crowd of eligible bachelors. But that was that. The rest seemed to be a blank spot in her memory. And now? Now Cindy was nowhere to be found.
Khushi closed her eyes as a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. Of course. The after-effects of the alcohol. She winced at the sour taste of her bile, feeling sick at once. She shakily made it to her feet as the nausea kicked in at last. This was not good. She turned to the bar tender. "Where's the washroom?" But her voice came out as a choked whisper. The tender was well into his 80's and probably hard of hearing. He was completely white. His hair, which was balding towards the centre, his skin, his mustache, and his beard. Just replace his white shirt and overalls with a red suit and he'd be the ideal Santa Clause. She bit back the bubbling laughter that the mental image conjured. Whether it was for sheer politeness or the fact that she was going to puke any minute now, she didn't know. "Where's the washroom??!" She repeated, louder this time. Luckily, she had his attention. He motioned with his thumb to the left side of the room. She blinked, trying to focus. Sure enough, there was a door...or something of it anyways. The drinks were proving to be experts in vision distrortion. Ugh.
Khushi stepped away from the bar, unable to think straight, let alone walk straight. But as she slowly made her way into the crowd of sweaty people, the nausea got the better of her. As if in reflex action, she covered her mouth, increasing her effort to walk by two-fold. With each footstep she took, she felt all the more sick. For a moment, she didn't think she would make it to the washroom at all! But she had to. For the sake of her own reputation she had to. Khushi could already hear her friend's voice admonishing her. "I told you to put down those drinks! Why do you bother drinking if you can't hold in your liquor?" Ugh. She was dreading it already.
Suddenly, Khushi felt a warm hand grip her wrist. She gasped, wincing at both the surprise of the sudden movement and the immediate pain that coursed up her arm. The next few events happened too quickly for her to register. Before she could get a grip on her racing heart, she was whisked away from the crowd and dragged into a particularly empty corner of the club.
This part of the club was quiet and it held no greater than five people with the exception of her and her pursuers. Most of them had passed out drunk and the remaining few probably weren't sober enough to even think properly. Khushi gazed down at her arm, feeling it numbing under her captor's tight hold. Slightly dazed, her eyes rose to meet his. Shockingly blue. Chilling. A shiver ran down her spine and her eyes lowered as if on their own accord. He had a cold grin plastered to his face as his hot gaze travelled gradually across her body. Behind him, trailed four other men, with a strikingly similar resemblance. "Heyy... looky here boys! We got ourselves a girl for the night! 10 dollars an hour... whaddaya say baby...?" An echoe of laughter with murmurs of agreement followed.
"L...let me go..." Khushi declared, speech slurred. Her nails dug into the skin of her pursuer as she tried violently to pry him off. "Fiesty eh? We like that... don't we boys?" He whispered hotly. He bent forward, giving her ear a hard nip. Khushi recoilled. His breath smelled of fresh alcohol against her skin. They were drunk beyond limits. "I said...l..let me..go...." Their cold laughter seemed to bounce off of every wall in the club. Help. I need help. She thought to herself. It was the only thought in her mind. Help. "Leave... me.. alone!" She screamed.
They began surrounding her. Forming a tight circle. "I said let me go!!!" She blinked back the tears threatening to fall as she tried to find a form of escape.They were her predator and she, their prey. As they made their way into her, the dread within her deepened. The dread, as well as the reality of the situation. She was trapped. And there was no one even remotely sober to help her. Falling to her knees in defeat, she whispered one last time, "Please... You...you don't have to... do this..." But to no avail. The last thing she remembered was seeing her favourite red cardigan pulled off of her and ripped into shreads before she collapsed into mind-numbing darkness.
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