The realization coupled with my undoubted brain injury makes my skull feel like it is about to crumble to pieces at any second. “Listen, you nasty b...tch,” He says darkly. “Fight me and I’ll kill you." I cower as far away from him as I can then begin to brush away the falling blood from my neck and head. Gently grazing the lacerations with my fingertips, I feel my soft black locks matt and tangle from the pooling crimson. The slightest touch causes me to wince. He chuckles with pride, sneering. Once I finished the stew, I sat back to listen to a flute player who was trying to earn his supper. The guy was pretty good, and he was playing songs from the game, of course. A few people even got up and danced when he played Only the Lonely Boy.Walking over, I dropped a few gold coins into his cup — double what he'd earned from everyone else all evening. "Bless you, Sir," he said gratefully."You're good, you earned it," I said, and then yawned. Bedtime for me, now, I thought, and headed. We had our own 2 storied house in Mohali.I was an average looking fair Punjabi girl around 5 feet 4 inches tall. My best asset at that time was my black long hair which reached my lower back. I was around 48-50 kgs in weight throughout my college and university years and was considered plump. In 1995 my brother brought home one of his friends who had joined his college. He was a foreign student from Africa. He had come through an exchange program through some European university for completing. ”“Yeah, but you can’t see what I can,” I replied and earned myself a kiss on the cheek.“Have you got a hat too?”“Ah… be right back.”I retrieved my car keys from the safe and got a bag out of the boot. It was where I had stashed my Le Mans memorabilia, which had a sun hat in. It reminded me of something you might see worn in the bush in Africa or Australia.We followed a similar route to the previous night and when the owner of the restaurant saw us, he waved.“Bonjour,” he called.When we got to.
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