The girl looked back again.
The eight men were still far, but their fast, heavy footsteps echoed across the empty road, growing louder with every second.
She pushed herself up quickly, dusting her hands. Exhaustion shook through her body. She didn't want to look at Krishna at all, but she had no choice now.
She faced him, jaw tight.
"Dekho," she snapped, "mujhe tumse baat karne ka bilkul interest nahi hai… par please help me."
She hated the words even as she said them. Asking for help from a stranger was the last thing she wanted, but today she was cornered.
Krishna blinked, irritated and confused. His shoulder still hurt from the collision.
"Arre yaar, yeh kya hai?" he complained.
"Pehle tumne mujhe gira diya… aur ab mujhe hi help karni hai?"
He stood up slowly, brushing the dust from his jeans, muttering to himself.
Why this road? Why today? Why always him?
The girl didn't care about his inner drama. The men were getting closer, their shouts echoing off the empty buildings.
She turned back to him, voice sharp.
"Mujhe gussa mat dilao. Mere paas time nahi hai. Help kar sakte ho toh karo… warna unse khud nipat lena."
Her patience was gone. Danger was seconds away.
Krishna stared at her, then at the men, then back at her.
And he realized this mess wasn't letting him go.
After a few seconds, the eight men finally reached the spot.
One of them was limping badly, dragging his foot as he cursed loudly.
"Saala pata nahi kaunsa chutiya tha jo mere pair par pathar maar ke gaya," he growled, holding his ankle.
Before he could complain more, another man smacked him on the back of the head.
"Chup kar," he snapped. ""Yahaan kisi ne pathar nahi maara. Tu hi theek se chal nahi paaya aur khud gir gaya."
The limping man shot him an angry look but stayed quiet, still rubbing his foot.
A third man scanned the road, eyes sharp, voice low.
"Ladki kahaan gayi?" he muttered. "Zamin kha gai ya aasman Nikal gaya abhi to yahi thi kahan gayab ho gai"
The first man clenched his fists.
"Woh chutiya ladki mil hi jaayegi," he said coldly. "Par pehle mujhe woh milna chahiye jisne mere pair par pathar maara."
The third man nodded slowly.
"Woh yahin aas-paas ka hi koi hoga," he said. "Main dekh ke aata hoon."
They didn't know it yet.
Just a few feet away, hidden behind a low wall, two figures were crouched tightly.
Eight pairs of eyes were searching the road… but none of them looked down.
Then suddenly, from behind the wall, a low, irritated voice slipped out.
"Arre… apna pair hataogi ya meri ungliyaan hamesha ke liye todne ka plan hai "
The voice was flat. Almost dead.
It was Krishna.
He had somehow climbed there with great difficulty, half squeezed, half dragged, his fingers twisted painfully under the girl's weight.
The girl froze.
She slowly looked down… and then realized what she had done.
Her eyes widened. She slapped her forehead softly in frustration.
This wall had been her idea. She had planned to jump and hide without dragging anyone with her.
She hadn't wanted Krishna to follow.
But he had.
And now, looking at his condition, twisted awkwardly and barely holding himself together, she shook her head and muttered under her breath, annoyed and helpless.
"Kya bacchon ki tarah ro raha hai yeh…"
After some time, the road finally went quiet.
The footsteps faded.
The shouting stopped.
The men were gone.
The girl stayed crouched behind the wall for a few more seconds, unmoving, listening carefully. Only when she was completely sure did she relax her shoulders.
She stood up and jumped easily over the wall, landing on the other side of the road without a sound.
Then she turned back.
And froze.
One of Krishna's legs had already crossed the wall. Half his body was on this side, half still hanging there. His fingers were digging into the rough surface as he tried to pull himself over.
But his balance was gone.
The wall was too high.
His strength was too little.
His grip slipped.
He crossed the wall… and fell.
Hard.
Krishna hit the ground on his back, the impact knocking the breath straight out of him. Something sharp scraped across his skin, tearing through cloth and flesh.
Pain exploded.
It wasn't a normal pain.
It was the kind that burned, stabbed, and spread all at once. Like someone had injected a hundred needles straight into his spine.
Krishna opened his mouth to scream.
Before a sound could escape, the girl rushed to him and clamped her hand over his mouth.
"Please!" she whispered urgently.
"Awaaz mat karna… woh log aa jaayenge."
Krishna's eyes widened as the pain surged again.
"KATO TOH KHOON NAHI."
For him, the proverb wasn't poetic.
It was painfully real.
Slowly, with great effort, Krishna rolled to his side and pushed himself up. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his back. He staggered to his feet and walked toward the girl, dragging himself like a man twice his age.
He stopped in front of her.
Took a deep breath.
Then another.
His voice came out flat. Almost dead.
"Dekho, MADAM," he said slowly.
"Aaj ke liye maine bahut kuchh dekh liya hai."
He inhaled again, wincing.
"Aur mujhse aage aur dekhne ki ichcha nahi hai."
He straightened slightly, as much as his back allowed.
"Toh aap apne raste…"
"…aur main apne raste."
He took one step back, raised his hand weakly, and finished:
"BYE."
He turned away, limping slightly, every step screaming pain, but his decision clear.
Tonight had already given him more than he could handle.
And he wanted no more of it.
Krishna grabbed the streetlight pole for support and pulled himself upright. He stood there for a moment, breathing slowly, letting the pain settle just enough so he could move.
Then he started walking.
His steps were uneven, loose, almost careless. He swayed as he moved forward, like someone who had taken too many drugs and forgotten how balance worked. From a distance, it looked as if he wasn't fully conscious.
But he kept going.
The girl followed him quietly.
Not because she trusted him.
Not because she cared.
She followed because she wanted to get out of that place. And for now, moving was safer than standing still.
Ahead of them, the road split into three paths.
One went straight, faintly lit and open.
The second turned right, darker and narrower.
The third curved away on the other side and ended a little further ahead, swallowed by shadow.
Krishna didn't hesitate.
He turned right.
The girl continued straight but slowed her pace, glancing sideways now and then. Something about his movement bothered her. This area was avoided even at night, and yet he walked like he didn't care where the road led.
She looked again.
Krishna was no longer there.
Surprised, she stopped under the streetlight and turned back, scanning the darker path he had taken.
Nothing.
He had disappeared.
When she had been running from those men earlier, she had accidentally come this way. Otherwise, she would have taken a completely different route. And now, standing there under the light, she couldn't understand where that straight boy had vanished so quickly.
She stood still for a few seconds, eyes fixed on the dark path.
Then she looked ahead.
And walked on.
But the thought stayed with her.
How did he disappear so fast?
END OF THE CHAPTER