Rahul was a 20-year-old college student home alone, a rare occurrence in the bustling metropolis where the constant pattern of life was a stark contrast to the silent rhythm of his own world. His parents were at a wedding reception that promised to last until the early hours of the morning, and his younger sister had gone to a sleepover at a friend‘s place. The apartment, usually a stage for the sound of their collective lives, had been transformed into a serene retreat, the only sound being the occasional hum of the refrigerator. He was sleeping shirtless staring at the fan.
It was then that the sudden crash from the balcony shattered the tranquility. Five shadowy figures burst into the room. The adrenaline surging through Rahul’s veins froze him in place as he tried to make sense of the chaos invading his space. Before he could react, they were upon him, their movements swift and coordinated. They were teenagers, he realized, and their eyes gleamed with a mischief that seemed to have crossed a line into something much darker. One by one, they jumped into the room. They were all dressed in black, their faces obscured by ski masks, and they carried an unmistakable air of danger. They had come for staying at a empty house, for a little thrill to break the monotony of their lives, but Rahul was there unfortunately.
With surprising strength, they yanked him to his feet and dragged him to the balcony, where they bound his hands behind back tightly with the clotheline. He could feel the rough rope biting into his skin, a stark reminder of his newfound vulnerability. They laughed as they worked, tossing comments back and forth about his trembling and the way his eyes widened with each tug of the line. Then, in a move that sent a wave of cold humiliation coursing through him, they pulled out a long cotton nighty from his mother’s closet, one she had worn for years. They forced it over his head, the fabric smelling faintly of her lavender perfume, and laughed even harder when it fell to his knees.
The night grew longer and the humiliation deeper as they took turns devising new ways to torment him. They played cruel games, whispering taunts in his ears, and taking photos on their phones to commemorate their trophy. Each snap of the camera shutter sent a jolt of fear through Rahul, the reality of his situation sinking in with every flash of light. He struggled against his binds, trying to ignore the way the soft fabric of the nighty clung to his sweat-drenched body. The sound of his mother’s nighty swishing against his legs was a constant reminder of his helplessness as they pushed and prodded him from room to room. They spanked him when he stopped or failed to comply, each blow leaving a sharp sting that echoed through the silent apartment. His cheeks burned with a mix of pain and embarrassment, the fabric of the nighty doing little to cushion the impact. Each slap sent a jolt of pain through his body, making him grit his teeth and bite back the screams that threatened to escape his throat.
.