Twenty Seven Days

By Debangee Ganguly

Its been twenty seven days I am trapped here.

They have been giving me water but minute food. Its almost as if they want me to starve but not die.

I don’t have it in me to kill myself.

This is akin to hell.

I am wearing the same clothes I was wearing that day they got me.

They have given me a small room to wash up and clean myself.

My clothes are filthy.

My skin is shriveled up and ragged. It feels like paper.

Almost as if I can cut it.

I haven’t seen sunlight for twenty seven days.

They say I will be safe with them. They say I will be at peace with them.

I don’t want to go.

I feel, if I go, I will be losing everything I strived for.

Help me.

*******

I made my decision.

They won.

Maybe it won’t be so bad after all. Maybe we will reach heaven. Maybe I will be at peace.

I hope.

Anything is better than this.

*******

‘I am sorry Mr. Parrish.’ The doctor said slowly, shaking his head.

‘Your wife let go this morning. She fought a lot. For twenty seven days. She fought against coma. She is in a better place. She was a fighter.’

By Debangee Ganguly