The sting of Neha's slap snapped Arun back to reality. His face flushed with shame, he stammered an apology. "Neha, I... I'm so sorry. It wasn't me! That voice... it was controlling me."
Neha, her heart pounding in her chest, fled to the washroom. Staring at her flushed reflection in the mirror, she whispered, "Does he see me as a woman? Why was I so... affected? I can't... he's just a kid, a prisoner." She splashed cold water on her face, trying to extinguish the unfamiliar warmth that bloomed in her cheeks. But the memory of his attempted kiss, and the strange flutter it ignited within her, refused to be so easily dismissed.
The next morning, Arun and Karim sat together in the exercise yard, the weak winter sun casting long shadows across the concrete.
"Brother," Arun asked, his voice laced with anxiety, "will there be any consequences for... you know... the infirmary incident?"
Karim shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Nah, I doubt it. You're with the king of this prison now, remember? No one's going to mess with you." But a flicker of doubt crossed his eyes.
Later that afternoon, Jacky was escorted from the prison by two guards.
"What's going on with him?" Arun asked, watching the receding figures with curiosity.
"He's going back to court," Karim replied. "Don't know why, though."
Arun nodded, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. Just then, Neha entered the yard, a vision in a sunny yellow dress and crisp white coat. Karim, ever the charmer, waved and called out, "Hey, Nurse Neha! Over here!"
Neha's gaze flickered towards them, then quickly darted away. A blush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate pink.
"Brother," Arun mumbled, nudging Karim, "I need to use the washroom. You talk to her." He slipped away, leaving a bewildered Karim staring after him.
"What was that about?" Karim muttered, approaching Neha with a curious grin. "Did you two have a lovers' quarrel or something?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Karim," Neha retorted, flustered. "He's just a kid!"
Inside the grimy washroom, Arun stood before the cracked mirror, tears streaming down his face. He was lost in a whirlwind of memories – his parents' laughter, the smell of his mother's cooking, the warmth of his father's embrace. The pain of their loss was a gaping wound in his soul.
A knock on the door startled him. "Arun?" Neha's voice was soft, hesitant. "Are you alright?"
He quickly wiped his tears, composing himself before opening the door.
"Listen, Arun," Neha began, her eyes filled with concern, "what happened yesterday... it was a mistake. Let's just forget about it, okay? We can still be friends."
Arun nodded, relieved. "Yeah, okay. And... please don't be shy around me."
Neha managed a small smile. "I'll try."
In the courtroom, Jacky stood before the judge, his face a mask of desperation.
"Your Honor," he pleaded, "before I'm transferred, I request that you either move me to a different prison or move Arun. Every time I see him, I... I just see red."
The judge considered this. "Given that Arun was involved in the recent incident, and reports indicate he's been living quite comfortably in that prison, I've reached a decision. Tomorrow morning, Arun will be transferred to a higher-security facility."
"Thank you, your Honor," Jacky said, a smirk playing on his lips.
"This is not a favor," the judge clarified. "It's my duty to ensure that everyone involved in that fight faces the consequences."
That night, a guard approached Arun's cell. "Pack your things," he ordered. "You're being transferred in the morning."
Arun stared at him, stunned. "Why?"
"Orders from above," the guard replied curtly, then walked away.
Panic seized Arun. He ran to the infirmary, his eyes blurring with tears. He found Neha preparing medications, her brow furrowed in concentration. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face in her hair.
"Can I just stay like this for a moment?" he whispered, his voice thick with despair.
Earlier that morning...
Arun, his face an emotionless mask, approached Jacky in the exercise yard. He placed a hand on Jacky's shoulder, his grip surprisingly strong.
"What are you doing, you little punk?" Jacky snarled, trying to shake him off. He raised his fist to strike, but Arun caught his wrist, his grip like iron.
"I'm not Arun," he said, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "I'm the spirit of pain, and I control his body now. Listen to me, you pathetic excuse for a tough guy." He punctuated his words with a series of brutal punches to Jacky's gut. "You will follow my orders. Today, when you go to court, you will plead with the judge to transfer Arun to another prison."
Jacky gasped for breath, his eyes wide with fear. "Why would I do that?"
"Because it benefits you," the voice hissed. "I'll leave you alone, and you can finally take care of Karim and rule this prison yourself."
"But... won't Arun remember this conversation?"
The spirit of pain laughed, a sound that sent shivers down Jacky's spine. "Don't worry. I control his mind as well as his body. He won't remember a thing."