I don’t know where to start this story. Its not just a story, it’s my life. 7 days from my life. Like 7 shades made rainbow, 7 swaras made music and 7letters made friends, these 7 days made my life. The most beautiful part, yet the most… I don’t know how to explain. You will know once I finish the tale. My fairy tale. This is my love story. Or rather, I should say my life story. No suspense should you expect, only a beautiful relationship…

I will begin by introducing myself. My name is Serena. Serena Williams. I am 21 and doing final year engineering. My father William was a businessperson. My mom, Priya was a homemaker. Theirs was also a love story. My mother’s family was less supportive of it for three reasons. One, her love, my father was of another religion (I can’t understand how that mattered, but still a reason). Two, he was an orphan. That would mean no family for my mom after marriage. And finally, he was jobless. Yes, he was jobless when he loved my mom. After their marriage, my mother’s family abandoned her. Nevertheless, my father was determined to live his life with his love. He started as an accountant in a store. A year after he started his own, expanded and in 5 years, he was the managing director of a huge company. He did not stop. In another 5 years the business world had only one name, Priya – Priya medicals, Priya exports, Priya boutique… A year after that I was born. Our family was complete. Their love story had a beautiful ending, but their life story didn’t…

When I was 3, my mother died in an accident. That was an unexpected shock to my father. When my mother was in deathbed, unconscious after the accident, it is told to me that my father didn’t even drink a drop of water for 3 days (though I seriously think that was highly exaggerated to highlight their love to me as 3 days without water for a man is a medical miracle). When she died, many feared that my father would go nuts. But worse happened. He became a drunkard. He never cared for his life anymore (I have often wondered later whether he forgot me). He gambled, used drugs, I would say he actually lost his life before he was physically dead. That happened when I was 4. Unlike my mother’s death, this was no shock to anyone (It was quite obvious with his constantly deteriorating health conditions).

You must be amazed how I talk about this with so much ease. Its because I never missed them. My memories of them are just some shattered pieces. From the day I could remember, my mother’s younger brother and his wife had taken their position. My mother had looked after my uncle when they were small. He had a very special love towards my mother. She was his angel and best friend. But one day he saw his sister being kicked out of the house and he had no power then to stop it. He always had guilt for it. He kept meeting my mom secretly. When my father destroyed his kingdom, drowned himself in debt and died. He felt it his responsibility to look after me. It was supposed to be his ‘act of apologize’. He faced lot of opposition from my mother’s family again. But then he was a married man with ‘power of words’ as he quote. Though I am not still allowed to enter my mom’s home, I was adopted as their daughter. My new family- my uncle, aunt and an elder brother- Aswanth.

They looked after me like their own daughter that until the age of 10, I thought they were my real parents. It was then that I knew that the ‘uncle and aunt’ in my shattered memories were my real parents and my ‘parents’ were actually my uncle and aunt. It was quite a revelation. Though I understood the facts, I never accepted them. I continued to call them mom and dad (and fortunately they were more than happy with it). I have never felt alone with them expect for the days they visit my grandmother. They leave me at home then. But I have always liked those days, the times when the only sound is that of my breathing and the ticking of the clock. Those rainy days where I could sit near the window in the library with a book in hand, not reading, but distracted by the raindrops shooting the glass, sipping a cup of coffee were my favorite. Books had always been my best friends. And my parents built a library in the home just for me. That’s the place I miss the most when I go back to my hostel. Ofcourse, library comes only after my bedroom, sleeping is my first priority and biggest weakness.

Okay, lets come to our story. Now you know my background, let us see where I stand today. As I said, I am doing final year in my engineering away from home. I stay in a women’s hostel. I am quite an introvert. I would not call myself quiet, I am rather talkative when someone talks to me, I just prefer to keep quiet in a group. Initiating a conversation is also not my cup of coffee. You will only know that if you only start talking to me. Initially I am very quiet and hard to talk with. But once when I get comfortable with someone, they will have to tell me to shut up every half an hour. That’s the best thing about my family, they love my chitchat.

I am deviating too much from the topic, let us stay with our 7 days. It all began when I came home from hostel on semester break. My travel was at night. So I reached home early morning. A night’s sleep was pending for me. But still I had a coffee and breakfast and planned to sleep after having a bath. This was usual for me like all semester breaks. I was in my tub when I realized that some guests had arrived downstairs. I hated guests. They always demand our presence with a fixed smile. Ofcourse I never say that to anyone, instead I just stand behind my mother with that same fixed smile answering their questions for five minutes, then be back at my room. I am expected to do it every time and so I do it. So when I felt the presence of these guests downstairs, I knew I would be called down soon. It made me lazier. I sat in the tub for half an hour more. I only got up put down my bathing robe when my fingers pruned due to over exposure to water. I looked over the mirror. I was a plump girl with a round face. Though I used to be proud of my round eyes, they looked tired with lack of sleep (I didn’t have proper sleep for more than a month as I had my exams). Though I never thought myself as pretty nor liked my face, the fact that I had plump lips and fair complexion was something else that I liked about myself. But that day I looked pale. That was just the effect of a long journey and an equally long bath. I looked away from the mirror and dressed myself in my pajama. I took out my headphones and plugged it to my old phone. It had my favorite songs in it and now it was used as my ‘iPod’. I slipped it into my pocket and fell on to bed. While searching for my favorite songs, I remembered the guests downstairs. I was not called downstairs. I removed my headphones letting it fell around my neck and sharpened my ears. The guest was still downstairs, but there were no talk or laugh or anything else heard. The house seemed… well… tensed. I didn’t know whether I was supposed to go downstairs myself. I should have been happy that I was not called downstairs and I should have allowed my sleep to take over me. But my curiosity was pricked. And before I knew it, I was heading downstairs.

That was the first time I saw him…

Day 1

When I reached the hall I saw one man sitting in our sofa. All others – my father, mother and brother were standing. This stranger had a lot of attitude. He wore a white shirt with black jeans. Top two buttons of his shirt was open revealing his upper chest. He had a well-built, muscular, yet lean body with long legs. He would have been fair, but his face was highlytanned matching his shabby, yet smooth chocolate brown hair. His high cheekbones were also noticeable. I would have called him hot and handsome if he wasn’t sitting on our sofa scaring the living matter out of my family. While walking towards my mother who was standing in a corner, I saw two men near our door all dressed in black. ‘May be his bodyguards’ I thought. He looked like a millionaire to me. He can certainly afford two. Whatever the matter was, I didn’t like my father so pale because he cannot answer to something this man has asked before I came. How can this man, who look like 24-25 threaten a man like my father who is certainly more than double his age?

I whispered to my mother, “Who is he?”

“They are really bad men.”

“Oh please! Don’t tell me ‘they are bad men, these are good men’. I am not in kinder garden. I asked ‘who is he?’, ‘what does he want?’, ‘why are you all scared?’, ‘why is father looking so pale?’ and ‘what did he do?’ this doesn’t seem like a smooth relation.”

I was staring at him when I asked these questions. Maybe my voice rose or he must have noticed me staring, he looked towards me. At that moment, I saw something passing his face. I wasn’t sure it was a smirk or smile. He scanned me for a second and talked to my father, “Your daughter, I guess. Never knew you had a pretty one in the family.”

My father didn’t reply. My anger was at the peak. Yet something kept me at place. The same ‘something’ that took me downstairs when I didn’t have to. But now I have started doubting that something. It was my mother’s voice that shook me from my trail of thoughts, she was whispering.

“His name is Jon. Jon Peter. He is a thug. Someone we don’t want to be acquainted with. They are really dangerous guys.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Well…”

Before my mother could continue, he looked towards our side and my mother’s face went pale as the winter moon. “I never thought you will take risk with me when you have this one at home.” He said to my father looking at me. I saw my father eyes go wild and afraid like a child who got in midst of a thick burning forest. He said,

“I will give you the money in 7 days. I promise. A week is all I ask for. Don’t involve my family in this. Don’t involve her in this.”

That is when I actually heard my father talk. The thug replied as if he was reading my mind. “So you still have the power of speech. When hit at the right mark, you know how to talk.”

It was well clear that my father had some debts to pay to him. I wondered whether it was my real father’s debt. With the gambling and such stuffs going on, he could have had relations with thugs. My uncle was never such a man. But my uncle had told me that he had settled all those debts. If he had lied, this was my problem. Not his.

Andwith the direction the conversation was moving, it was certainly coming my way. It was not the way my uncle has intended, and certainly not the way I had wanted. The best way to proceed was to retreat back to my room until everything was over.

“Mother, I think I have no role here. I better go back to my room.”

And as was walking towards it without waiting for a reply, a hand caught my elbow and pulled me towards it.

“How can you just go when you are my trump card” Jon asked me with a smirk.

I was too stunned to reply, stunned even to react. But my father came towards me mouthing the words ‘no’. Jon just replied, “Not a step!”, took a gun from back of his jeans, and held it at my waist. I was too shocked with the turn of unexpected events. This was not how it was supposed to be. I came for a vacation. I was to sleep a good part of the day, then go out with some old friends, do a bit of shopping and a lot of gossip, get updated with the matters around, maybe have dinner with them and then come back at night to bed. The extreme unexpectedness in my list was to have a sleepover night at any of my friend’s home. But now I stand here, at some stranger’s gunpoint, facing threats. I could have wriggled out of his hand. Though he had a strong grip, he was just catching my elbow. But now as the gun was out, I couldn’t find a way to escape.

He tossed my elbow to his other hand, thus dragging me towards him while substituting his free hand with the gun. He did this with so much ease that anyone seeing the scene would only feel like he was just exchanging two balls between his hands. He said,

“I think 7 days is too small a time for me to be with this beauty. I give you two weeks. The sooner you bring the money, the sooner you can take your daughter back. She will be safe with me. There will be no scratch on her for 14 days. But I can’t give you any guarantee after that.”

“You cannot take her. This is not her fight.” My father argued.

“Nothing is fair in war and love.” He said the last word with a smirk at me. He certainly was no good man and now he is going to take me with him. Wait! He is going to kidnap me. The truth hit me. I tried to wriggle out of his hand. He released me only to put his hand on my hips and pull me closer.

“Easy girl, I am not going to hurt you. I promise. And my promise has the same strength as your fathers. Let us see how much intense that is, shall we.”

And with that he led me to his car outside. Unable to move away from his gunpoint, I saw my father objecting. He shoved me into the backseat of his car, and before he get in he said to my father, “I promise, you know how much my promise is worth. I promise your daughter won’t be touched for two weeks. For two weeks.”

With that he got into the car with me. The two ‘blackmen’ entered the front seat. My father ran over to my window and said, “I’ll get the money soon. Don’t worry. Just stay safe.”

I was all panicky until then. But seeing his face, so afraid like a gazelle seeing a lion, I felt it my responsibility to calm him. After all, this is a debt that probably came to him because of my real father. So I hid all my fears and told him, “Its all right. You don’t worry about me. I’ll look after that part. You just get the money as soon as possible.” He simply nodded and the car took off.

I was sure I couldn’t escape from them. Staying safe was the only option left. And for that I had to know more about them. I should ask them something. But what? Something that should seem natural at this situation yet would give me answers or lead to a deeper conversation. Or I should simply wait until they start talking. But they are not going to say something fishy when they know I am hearing. Finally I decided to keep quiet. Anyway making up conversations are not my domain. I looked around the car for something that would keep my mind off from these thoughts. But everything was dim, so I looked outside. There were children waiting for their school bus, people working hard at a construction site, old men gossiping over some news at a tea shop, the way the tea maker pour the tea from one glass to another, pouring from a glass that he holds much above his head to a glass held very low, almost near his knee. It looks like a waterfall of tea, maybe a teafall. These bits of a highly normal life were comforting. I wanted to wave to the children outside, but the window was coated black and I was sure they wouldn’t see me. The black window was well suited for the dim car but not for the merry life outside it. And now the only thing that soothed me was the normal life. I have always wanted an adventure to cross path with my life. I don’t know whether I could call this an adventure, but if it is, I don’t want it. I just want my normal life. I tried to open the window but saw that it was locked.

“May I open the window?” I asked addressing no one.

“No.” Jon replied.

“I won’t shout, I promise.”

He just laughed. I knew he was mocking me. But I wasn’t going to be mocked so I held my insisting face. Finally he replied.

“I know you won’t shout, you are a clever girl. And I don’t care even if you shout. I said no because its dusty and hot outside. Why do you even want to open the window? You are not getting queasy, are you?”

“No. Its ok. I just didn’t … no. nothing… I am fine. Can I know where I am going?”

“My home.”

I waited for some time thinking he would tell me where his home is. When I knew he wasn’t going to answer, I looked down. That is when I noticed my headphones around my neck. I was glad I still have it. I put it over my ears and before I put a song on, I heard the driver say, “Sir, are you sure taking her home along with us is safe? She can see the way to our home.”

He was addressing Jon through the back view mirror. I instantly knew that he was talking because he thought I couldn’t hear him. Well, this was chance for me to eavesdrop on them. Jon replied, “Oh please, Austin! We are taking her to my home, not my hideout. Its not that secret. Besides I feel that we have taken this a bit hard on her, her vacation was not supposed to go this way.”

Can Jon actually read my mind!! If he really feels guilt about this, then he must be not that bad after all. But I find the whole situation funny. I am a woman going to an unknown place with three unknown men and they don’t feel safe. Strange. I was going to voice it when I remembered that I am not hearing the conversation but my music.

“Hey girl, I know you are not hearing music. Don’t act.” Jon said. I saw the driver getting surprised. Thank god, at least he didn’t knew it. I was not completely wrong in my plan. But I was too embarrassed to think on those lines.

“I am not acting. I am aware that you knew I was listening.” I said to cover up my shame.“And my name is not girl.” I said to change the subject.

He smiled at me and from that smile it was clear that he understood my intensions. Yet he played along, “And what might that be?”

“Serena.” I whispered.

“Sorry. What?”

“Never mind.”

“No, I really didn’t hear it”

“Why should I tell you my name?”

“Then, what shall I call you?”

“Call me anything you like. I don’t care.”

“Alright Elena, …”

“Elena?”

“Yes. Elena. Do you mind?”

“No. But why Elena? I thought you would call me some hostile name.”

“Why should I call you some hostile name?”

“Because I was rude to you.”

“You call that rude? I would say you haven't seen the world.” He said with a small smile playing across his lips. And I think I saw dimples too. He was kind of cute. He continued.

“Well Elena, I wanted to tell you that you are not my prisoner.”

That was all that I could manage. It took me to the peak of anger with a second and I blurted out laughing.

“Seriously, Mr. Peter, you kidnapped me from my home in my pajamas, I must be looking awful, put me on your gunpoint, takes me to a unknown place quiet far away from my home, tells me I have to live with a bunch of strangers and I guess all men for 14 days, I don’t even have the freedom to open a window andgod knows what more. Andnow you say I am not a prisoner, I find this quiet funny Mr. Peter.” I said it at one breath.

He started laughing at this. “Now you find me funny too?” I said in full anger mode.

“I don’t find you funny. I am sorry if I gave you that impression. I just find you amusing.”

“Amusing?”

He subdued his laugh and with a smile replied,

“Yes. I thought you were a quiet girl and you turn out to be… Whoa.”

That quiet hit my pride. I was secretly proud that I was a quiet girl. I didn’t want anyone to think otherwise.

“I am only talkative at two situations.” I whispered

“Namely..”

“When I am comfortable with someone and when I am angry with someone.”

“I believe this scene belongs to the second part.”

“Yes. It does” I said remembering my anger.

“An amusing little pretty angry bird.” He said emphasizing each adjective.

“How can I make myself rude and not amusing?”

“I don’t think you can ever be rude with that beautiful face. And now, about your little speech. I believe there are so many wrongs in it. So let us list it out.

One, you don’t have to call me Mr. Peter, you can call me Jon. Lets go one the first name basis, please

Two, I don’t like to call it kidnap. I just took you.

Three, you don’t look awful. You look very much beautiful to me.

Four, even if it means my death, I wouldn’t fire a bullet on you. Forget about the gunpoint thing. You are too innocent to die. I know that.

Five, its not an unknown place if you wish it to be. Its my home and you can roam around there as long as you wish.

Six, its not much far away. We will reach there in few seconds.

Seven, you don’t have to live with a bunch of strangers if you don’t wish. You will only have to put up with me. And as long as I know, I have answered all your questions and will continue to do so. So you can ‘unstrange’ me any time.

Eight, its not 14 days, that’s maximum. It is actually as long as your father makes it.

Nine, I never knew opening a window mean so much to you. You could have just insisted and I would have allowed.

Ten, not only god, I also know what more. There is nothing more.

Eleven, you don’t find this quiet funny, you are actually angry at me.

Twelve, it is a repeated point, you can call me Jon.

Did I miss something? I counted thirteen wrongs… .. Ah! Yes!

Thirteen, I still say you are not my prisoner.”

“Whoa! That is quite a list. You can also be talkative.” I was surprised at the long answer and purposefully forgot my anger.

“Yes, I am quite talkative if I find the right listener.”

“You must also have a damn memory to remember that lot from something that I blurted out in anger, Mr. Peter.”

“Jon please, Elena.”

“Jon.” It was strange answering to that name. But still for something that I yet didn’t knew, I held my name a secret.

“And I don’t need a damn memory to remember what you said.”

“What do you mea…”

“We are home.” He said as we pulled into a gate of a bungalow.

“You call this home? I call this palace.”

“Yeah, its a bit big. I agree.”

“A bit?”

He just smiled to it. That was when I realized his home was in middle of woods. Though his plot was huge, it was surrounded with walls, with a well-built garden and lot of trees. We had to round about three fountains after the gate to reach the porch.

I was amused of the vastness of the house that I didn’t realize Jon getting out and opening my door.

“Welcome to my home. Sweet home”, he said with a bow.

I got out and bowed back as gracefully as I could. This would have looked like a Disney seen if I was not in my nightdress. I laughed at the irony. I saw him smile too.