The Task (Short Story)

She was lying alone on her bed. Nobody else was inside the house. It was late evening and everything was dark and silent and still including the room. She was thinking about him and the task he had given her. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. She picked the mobile up and was about to press the “Accept’ button but then decided against it. She must not be disturbed. She must concentrate on the task she had been trusted with. How could somebody be so lethal? The task that he had given her was supposed to be done by the next day. He was never like this. He was never this cruel, this difficult, and never this evil. He had always been very kind, very lenient and extremely friendly. But after that incident at school, everything had changed. He had changed, completely. When she had protested against the task, he had actually shouted at her, scolded her. She had been hurt. She used to love hi but now she was almost indifferent. Angry and sad. If she begins with the task now, she would be able to complete it before her parents arrive and they would never know what had happened in their abode in their absence. After contemplating for a long time, her eyes fixed on the fan circling above her, hardly cooling the room; she strengthened her resolve and got up. She untied her hair and went to the washroom. She washed her face. She kept staring at the mirror before her for a long time, water droplets falling into the basin from her face. Suddenly, becoming conscious, she wiped her face using a small towel. She went back to her room and switched on the small bulb in the center. The time had come. She must now begin with the task or everything will be lost, she would never be able to show her face to him again. She opened her wardrobe and began searching for it. No, but it wasn’t there. She won’t be able to do the task without it. She kept searching but didn’t find it. Should she call him? Yes, she should. She picked up her phone and dialed the number. The bell rang for a long time. And finally he picked it up. Trying to keep her calm and cool, she said, ‘Sir, I think I’ve forgotten my Math book at your home. So I won’t be able to do the questions you had given for homework.’ ‘Neha, if you don’t change your ways and don’t become more careful, you would fail in the school exams again,’ said her sixty-something tuition teacher. ‘Sorry, sir,’ said she and disconnected soon. Now she was happy, delighted. She went and threw herself again on the bed.