THE INCARCERATED STRANGER

 

Chapter 13

 

MANGALISO

 

He sits in the living room with Sage and the guys, the atmosphere charged with silence. After a struggle, he finally maked sure Riley takes her pain meds for her shoulder. She fought him tooth and nail, claiming she can’t swallow pills, but he was not having it. He forcefully got the first batch down her throat, only to watch her vomit them up moments later. Unfazed, he made her try again, and this time she managed to keep them down. She glared at him afterward, frustration radiating from her, and she kicked him out of the room.

“So what’s the plan going forward?” Sage asks, breaking the tense silence.

“The plan is we have to find this guy,” he says, pulling out his phone and showing Sage and the others a picture.

“Who is he?” Sage questions, squinting at the image.

“I don’t know his name, but I remember him from that night. I was made to kill that officer—he forgot to put on his mask,” he replies, his voice steady but laced with tension.

“And how did you find him?” one of the boys asks curiously.

“When I went to buy Ayakha something to eat at the hospital,” he explains.

 “I spotted him at the Mall and snapped a few pictures.”Sage nods, taking in every detail. “What information do we need to gather about him?”

“Find out where he lives, where he spends most of his time during the day, and who he associates with,” he instructs firmly.

Sage studies the picture closely. 

“I’ll forward this to Ghost. Send it to me now.” 

Without hesitation, he taps on his phone and forwards the image to her. The gravity of their mission hangs in the air as they all prepare for what comes next.…

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He drives home, the weight of the day pressing heavily on his shoulders. It’s been a whirlwind—freedom was supposed to feel like a breath of fresh air, but instead, it’s suffocating with threats lurking around every corner. How can he rest when there are people out there who want him dead? To make matters worse, his lawyer is now involved, adding another layer of stress to an already chaotic situation.He lets out a deep sigh as he pulls up to his gate. The smart technology senses his car and swings open with a soft whir, welcoming him back. This gate is a fortress of sorts; only his car can trigger its mechanism. Anyone else trying to enter has to call him first, ensuring his privacy and security.

After parking, he steps out and locks the car with a click. Each action feels mechanical, almost as if he were going through the motions of a routine that no longer feels routine at all. He strides toward the house, each step echoing in the stillness of the evening.Reaching the door, he inputs a pin code—a simple yet effective barrier between him and the outside world. The door clicks open, and he steps inside, momentarily grateful for the solitude that envelops him. The familiar scent of home washes over him, but it brings little comfort tonight. He closes the door behind him with a soft thud, sealing himself away from the chaos outside, even if only for a moment.

He heads to his bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light that momentarily eases the tension in his shoulders. The weight of the day still clings to him, so he makes a beeline for the bathroom, hoping that a hot shower will wash away the remnants of stress .

In the bathroom, he strips off his clothes, feeling the fabric slide away and leave him with nothing but his thoughts. He steps under the shower, and as the water cascades down, it envelops him in warmth. The sound of water hitting the tiles is soothing, a gentle reminder that he’s finally home.

He grabs the bottle of washing gel and pours a generous amount onto a sponge, letting the scent of fresh citrus fill the small space. As he begins to wash his body, he feels the tension melt away with each stroke. The sponge glides over his skin, lathering up as he scrubs away not just the dirt but also the heaviness of the day. Each rinse under the warm spray feels like a small victory against the chaos that awaits outside these four walls.

The steam rises around him, creating a cocoon of comfort as he closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself breathe deeply. In this sanctuary of water and warmth, he tries to clear his mind, if only for a few precious minutes before reality calls him back.

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RILEY

 Her shoulder is healing well, a small victory in the midst of her frustration. At least now she can use her right hand again, a freedom she hadn’t realized she’d taken for granted until the injury had sidelined her. Just days ago, it had been swollen and stiff, a painful reminder of her vulnerability. In this place—no, this confinement—she had been forced to remain still, unable to do much of anything.

She glances around the sterile room that feels more like a prison than a refuge. The walls are painted in muted tones, lacking the warmth of home. This is not where she belongs; it’s just a temporary holding ground in her life’s chaotic narrative. She yearns for the comfort of her own space, the familiar clutter of her belongings, and the freedom to move about without restrictions.

Is it too much to ask for normalcy? To return to her life before all of this? A life filled with routine and predictability, where she made choices instead of having them dictated by others. The thought churns within her, a mix of longing and impatience.

She rises from the chair where she’s been sitting, testing the strength in her arm as she stretches it slowly. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s progress—an echo of the independence she craves. With each small movement, she reminds herself that healing takes time, but so does reclaiming her life. She just has to hold on a little longer until she can break free from this safe house and step back into the world that feels so far away.

She makes her way out of the room, the echoes of laughter and chatter pulling her towards the source. How nice it is to hear people enjoying themselves while she feels like she’s slowly suffocating in this house. The living room is alive with energy, but as soon as she enters, all eyes turn to her. She forces a smile, but it feels heavy on her face. Instead of joining them, she heads straight for the kitchen, seeking solace among the familiar scents of coffee and baked goods.

Mangaliso gets up from his spot, leaving Sage and the others engrossed in their game on the TV. “Is your hand healed?” he asks, his voice breaking through her thoughts. She hasn’t seen him in days—three, maybe four—and has been ignoring his calls just like she’s been ignoring her mother’s. The thought of facing either of them feels insurmountable; she’s not ready to deal with her mother’s venomous words or Mangaliso’s concern.

“If it wasn’t healed, I wouldn’t have come here to make something to eat,” she replies curtly, pouring herself a cup of coffee and reaching for a box of rusks.

“I see. What do you want to do today?” he asks, and she raises an eyebrow at him. What kind of question is that? It feels more suited for a teenager than for someone who’s been thrust into this chaotic situation against her will.

“Come on, Riley! I’m trying to make you not feel bored and lonely,” he pleads. She scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

“I’ve long felt lonely and suffocated here,” she shoots back, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “I’m close to drawing now.”

“Try? Why don’t you try to catch the people you always say you’re protecting me from?” She challenges him, watching as his expression shifts into one of confusion.

“You think I’m not doing that already?” he asks, his tone almost defensive.

“Are you? Because to me, it seems like you’re relaxing here and playing games while I’m stuck in this house!” She snaps back, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

“FYI, we are not relaxed! I’ve got people doing that for me, okay? And still doesn’t mean we can’t chill out and play games,” he retorts.

“Right! You’ve got ‘people’ doing that for you! What about me? I don’t have people helping my clients who need me!” Her voice rises with indignation.

“At least you can sit here and chat, laughing and playing games. What about me? Who should I chat and laugh with when I can’t go be with my friends, huh?! Should I laugh with those walls in my room? Ingathi ndisisbhanca ndingesiso?” Her voice barely above a whisper at the end as emotion threatens to choke her.

“I’m suffocating in this place! I want to go back to my house! My own space! Live my life just like before I met you!” The words spill out before she can stop them.

“So I’m the one who took away your life? Is that what you’re saying?” He sounds incredulous.

She nods sharply. 

 “Exactly! You did! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here in this house that feels like it is a jail!” Her voice cracked, frustration lacing every syllable. She could sense that, for him, the confines of this place ,obviously he's used to jail right!

He frowns, his brow furrowing as he processed her words. “Well, you are right. It doesn’t matter if it feels like jail because I’ve been in jail—so what?” His response was flat, as if he was shrugging off her feelings like a coat he no longer wanted to wear.

She blinks, a wave of uncertainty washing over her. Did she just think that out loud? The thought nagged at her. Is it possible for someone to read another’s mind? She pushed her rusks aside, the crunching sound echoing in the silence of the room. Her coffee grew cold, untouched; her stomach twisted in knots as anxiety bubbled up inside her.

“This is too much,” she murmures to herself, getting up abruptly and heading back to her room. The familiar walls felt like they were closing in on her. As she reached for her phone, a surge of irritation hit her. Decline the call? No, instead she found herself answering it.Her mother’s voice burst through the speaker,  and oblivious to the storm brewing inside her. 

Frustration flare within her. Why now? Why this moment? Oh dear Lord, why didn't  she just die yesterday? She felt like she was drowning in a sea of emotions—anger, despair, and a longing for escape. It was all too much; she wanted to scream but instead forced herself to breathe, clenching her jaw as she fought against the chaos swirling around her.

 

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