A Woman Should Be Strong but…
Part 2
by Rondabunny
She woke up in her cell again. She felt dizzy and everything floated before her eyes. They sedated her with something strong. Miss Adler was woken by a bearded man in camouflage with a submachine gun. Another one stood beside him.
"Wake up, wake up, slut!" The man slapped her across the face. He spoke Arabian which Miss Adler understood perfectly well. She dealt with people of different nationalities and religious belief. She knew a handful of languages. It was a necessity. The woman was witty enough to learn and master languages.
"You thought you could f…Mohamed Ashtur? You thought you can play with him? Now it's our turn to play with you. We play with you and then you die," He laughed.
"Jamal, we must leave her to pray. She'll be executed afterwards."
"I know that Ashtur sold her to our boss to be executed but he wants to put her in his brothel. She's pretty. She'll have many clients. I want to assess what she's worth, don't you?" He mounted above her.
Dizzy or not she pushed him, knocked down the other one and ran through the door just to see more men there. The woman failed. The man, whom she pushed, wiped away blood from his lip. He was angry. The execution began…
Irene woke up panting. The nightmare was so vivid like she was there again. She got up too quickly and suddenly pain in her whole body reminded where she was. The woman was relieved to see nobody in the room. Very slowly inch by inch she took up her sore body from the bed. One of her eye didn't want to open properly and the world around her swirled. The feeling of being underwater was overwhelming but she didn't want to call for him.
"You can do it. You were in much more worse condition. Just stand up. Please, you can. You must stand up," Irene persuaded herself to move.
The woman stood up, swayed but didn't fall down. That was a good sign, she thought to herself. One step, two, three. Little by little she reached the bathroom. The brilliant detective was nowhere to be seen, and the former dominatrix was thankful for that. Delightful to reach the bathroom her look trailed to the mirror on the wall.
"I can shoot in horror films without grease-paint." The idea trailed her mind.
The reflection was disgusting. Left eye swell up and had a strange red-purple color. The lid was too big and heavy to open it properly. She lost blood and looked paler than a ghost. The left side of her face was also black and blue. Cracked dry and swollen lips, hair in complete disorder. The idea of a horror film pleased her more and more. Irene found it amusing. It began with a little chuckle, then giggle, then she started laughing hysterically each traction causing her pain. She couldn't stop. The idea seemed hysterically funny. The woman laughed until her lips cracked and blood ran down her chin. Her cool side returned immediately. Coldly, she opened the tap, washed her face with one hand as another was bandaged and still hurt. She threw the brush that was in a plastic glass and poured some tap-water in it. She drank one glass and another feeling bloody taste of water. Sherlock wasn't home. Now the deduction was clear. He would have run into the bathroom already when he heard that hysterical laughter. Maybe he left her for good. The man played his part, won the game and disappeared as he usually did. Why did he come for her? The thought was interrupted by pain. She gasped and leaned on the wall. Drugs weren't here only sanitary pads. Irene decided that to go back to the room to search for medicine was a too long journey. Better to remain here and wash. She needed to change.
The minute she left the bathroom Sherlock Holmes came from the kitchen with a tray with tea, porridge and toasts. Her hand instinctively grabbed the door-knob for balance but when she saw him she straightened her back, closed the door and walked to an arm-chair as straight as possible because the world was shaking and floating before her eyes. It was like going on the deck of a ship in a stormy weather.
"Tea, muesli, toasts with butter and jam," the detective announced.
She sat in the armchair clenching her teeth in the process.
"Can you give me the painkillers?" Miss Adler asked.
Sherlock was up all night. Her fuzzy gaze found traces of sleepless night in his eyes everything else was in position. The man wore dark grey suit, white shirt and dark shoes. He was freshly shaven. She made the conclusion that he went back to the hotel where he stopped until the whole plan fell down as a house of cards.
"No, until you eat something," He said giving her a cut of tea.
"I'm not hungry." Now in this little phrase the woman felt irony, her lips twitched a little.
He looked at her strictly and deathly serious.
"It doesn't matter right now. You get the painkillers after you eat. You drank too many pills yesterday. Drugs can cause problems to your stomach, liver, kidney. First, you eat, then, you drink the medicine." He took a toast and took a bite of it.
His gaze trailed down her form. The right hand was swollen and slightly red, the way she grabbed the doorknob even for a second gave way her weakness, trembling left hand prevented her from drinking tea. When he gave her the cup she immediately put it on the arm of the armchair. The detective finished the toast, went to the kitchen and returned with a chair. He placed it beside her and took a bowl with muesli.
"Are you going to feed me?" Irene looked at the spoonful of muesli in his hands in disgust. "I can do it myself."
She grabbed a toast without anything from the coffee table and nibbled at it.
"Fine." The man put down the bowl with porridge and put a long straw in her cup of tea. "It'll help you to drink." He sat back in the armchair opposite the woman.
"What's that?" She pointed at some strange garments hanging from the chair in the corner.
"We're leaving today."
"Where?"
"It's a private hospital. It'll be safe there for a while. Besides, the owner of this shelter comes back after lunch. We need to leave." The man explained.
"Everything is clear but we'll eliminate hospital from that brilliant plan of yours, Mr. Holmes" She tried hard to make the remark playfully but her voice was hoarse and feeble. Irene sounded more tired and broken than joyful.
"Miss Adler, I won't bother you with my deduction discoveries because I'm pretty sure you understand better in what condition you are right now. By constant shivering of your hands and sparkles in your eyes I can make a conclusion that fever hasn't gone yet and you can barely walk from the bathroom to this armchair. The only thing I can propose is to help you put on that burka I brought for you to cover your not so beautiful eyes at the moment and convey you to the hospital there you'll be given a thorough examination. I really don't care what the reason is and why the idea of going to the hospital makes you shudder. You'll go there willingly or by force."
His tone was very deep and calm. Sherlock spoke in his usual 100 words per second. His expression didn't give way a storm of emotions he maybe was feeling now. The woman sighed. That was check and mate. She couldn't put up a resistance. The pain was too vivid, it ate her inside out. Her body gave up. Irene suffered silently. She didn't pronounce a word when he helped her get dressed, took in his arms and brought to the car. A slot for eyes in the burka was made of a special net that covered them like a veil. Nobody could see how damaged she was.
"Do you have a plastic bag?" He heard a constrained voice from the backseat. The woman tore off the burka from her head, took the bag the detective gave and her breakfast found itself in the bag. Tea with chewed pieces of toast danced together in a small space inside a white plastic bag.
"Thank you." She said trying not to spill the contents of a precious container gripping it with her healthy hand.
"You've got a concussion." The man concluded.
Sherlock Holmes has been studying people in the hospital for three hours while Miss Adler was examined, scanned and X-rayed.
"Your wife is a very strong woman, Mr. Salehi. Whoever did this to her were animals. I hope they'll face Allah soon." A female doctor gynecologist approached Sherlock.
"They already are. Have you given her a sleeping pill as I asked?"
"Yes, Mr. Salehi."
"Can I see the results?"
The woman gave him a file with examination report and X-ray pictures of ribs and arm, some other pictures or cuts, bruises, damaged organs. Three ribs were broken. It was a miracle they didn't damage any of her internal organs. She had a Galazzi's fracture of her right arm, a micro crack of the skull that caused concussion, a third degree perineal tear, gynecologic hemorrhage, shock kidney, etc. Looking through the whole history Sherlock Holmes again and again revised the image of two men with the woman in that damn cell and two others who goaded them. In his mind he killed them multiple times, not just killed but tortured. Now it didn't matter. He made a mistake, he was late, he couldn't prevent it. The man wasn't sure why this thought still haunted him. Sherlock shook his head, gave doctor the file back.
"Tie her up to the bed. I know she will want to run away. I'll come in the evening. Don't let her go until I come. She might lie to you about anything only to get out of here. Don't trust her. She may harm herself." He went away and was gulped by the crowd outside the building.
Miss Adler was again in a grip of her continuing, vicious nightmare. She woke up in panic, jerked to get up from the bed but couldn't and it frightened her even more. Irene convulsed for a minute trying to get rid of whatever that held her until she realized that it was a hospital ward and her arms and body was fastened by the belts to the bed. Nice, even now the brilliant detective outsmarted her. Irene called the nurse but the woman spoke only Pashto and it took time for her to understand and call for the doctor. The female doctor who examined her spoke English as it was one of the official languages in Pakistan but whatever reason Irene gave her to discharge her from hospital the doctor rejected. The sun was setting down when Mr. Holmes entered the room.
"Went on a hunger strike? That's not wise but we need to go." He unfastened the belts. The woman got up very slowly helping herself with the left hand because her right arm was in plaster from shoulder till fingertips. A special medicinal corset eased the pain from broken ribs as well as anaesthetic. She didn't say a word when he stripped her down and dressed in traditional clothes he took with. The man escorted her in a wheel chair, helped her to get inside the car and closed the door.
"Where are we going?"
"To the seaside if you're not against, Miss Adler."
"Are they following us?" She had to be sure.
"I caused them a lot of trouble today and yesterday. They'll be occupied for some time." He assured her.
To be continued…
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