time waster.

Her sigh was the only thing that could be heard at the time. She turned her head sideways, peering into the darkness, feeling the emptiness of the lonely corridor she was in.

It was night. She knew. Both literally and metaphorically.

Those men might come. Those men might come. She thought.

Did she want to run away? Yes, of course, why won't she? She's always been scared of darkness since her conception. A recessive trait in her parents, her siblings and her whole family.

This fear had always been with her. And she kept it close.

Her soul? It had become intertwined with it. It was her life. It was her identity.

Another sigh.

As she stared into the dark corridor, the distance from its ends made her feel discomfort, her chest tightened and her head became heavier.

It wasn't a do or die situation.

She just had to pee.

Pee it was. Yet, death it seemed.

Ya Hamar, just pee!! One courageous thought told her.

She sighed again, unconsciously loathing herself with new negative labels. Bending with speed and ever cautious ears, she reached for a bucket from the cupboard.

It's just pee. The thought said again.

A heartbeat.

Another heartbeat.

And another heartbeat.

All in a quarter of a millisecond.

“Huh!” She gasped.

They could be hiding. Maybe they're over there!

Who knows? That big rat might come here!

Someone might see me!

I'm so dumb!

They might kill me!

Who would take care of my parents then?

Window men, as they were called, scared the life out of her. Multiple cases, as reported by the rumours told by ever ready gossips—those men enter through the windows of rooms, go through the girls stuff and leave with it.

Whether you've kept your most precious devices in your bags or you've kept them under your pillow, you're wrong. If you sleep on it, you're wrong. A girl was said to have been lifted from the bed and kept somewhere else before confiscating her valuable devices. The regularity and consistency of the event was a major issue in the girls hostel.

Our girl, as far as her fear took her, decided to push her newly purchased smartphone under the macintosh of the bed. Then covered the bed with the sheets and placed her ever faithful backpack above it. And yes, she did it every night.

So she had nothing to worry about, right?

Except that, she was always worried. It is her first name, remember?

Though no one was in sight, she was still terrified of anything in motion. The cool wind brushing against her ears made her heart jump, giving her the blood pressure reading of a mild hypertension.

The misery didn't end as long as she was still outside, in front of her room door.

Peeing and leaving as fast as she could, she grabbed her body inside and reconnected it with her soul. She was complete again. The sound of the locking door and the process of doing so filled her lungs with air.

Climbing back to her bunk bed, she then placed her head on the makeshift pillow she'd made. She sighed again and closed her eyes, knowing fully well that there was no moral lesson, no single point in the this story you just read.

Auf Wiedersehen!

Image by Victoria from Pixabay