10. Royalty? Where?

Saïda’s POV:

My father was rather calm but I on the hand, couldn’t help it but be worried about the Prince. It’d been hours since he’d left the apartment and we’d heard no news about him.

“Fa– Dad, it’s eight. What if the Prince doesn’t know this address.”

“Asahd,” he corrected.

“Asahd.”

“He is twenty two. Asahd might be spoiled and whatsoever, but he is a smart boy. I know him well and he is the type to get himself out of any urgent situation. With or without money.”

I was going to say something when there were aggressive knocks at the door. Definitely him.

“It’s open,” I said and a second after, Asahd stormed in. My father and I stood, surprised and wondering at his appearance.

“What happened to y–”

“Save it!” he cut my father. Oh, he was even more furious than earlier that afternoon. “I was robbed! Robbed! And now I have absolutely nothing! I almost got lost in this huge city, because I didn’t know the name of this damned street! I would’ve probably been caught, held captive until the police came and took over! You see everything that’s happening to me?!”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry all that happened to you, Asahd.”

“I just want to sleep!” he ran his hands over his face. “This is just a nightmare that I’m gonna wake up from. I don’t want to see any of you.”

Asahd’s POV:

I was going to walk out of them but I needed to know where I would sleep. The thought annoyed me even more.

“And where am I supposed to sleep?” I asked with a frown.

“There,” Saïda pointed at one of the doors.

I was going to leave but Djafar spoke,

“We went shopping and bought new clothes for ourselves and for you too. So we fit in with the people that live here,” he said and handed over more than five bags, all full, of clothes and probably shoes too.

My stomach started to hurt a little because I already expected the worse. I even hesitated to check them. But I eventually did, confirming my fears.

I opened a bag and pulled out sneakers. Sneakers? All sorts of sneakers. And as if those weren’t enough, plain t-shirts, sweaters, hoodies, jeans? Ripped jeans? Shorts!

“Shorts?!” I finally said something, my eyes wide. I was shocked. “Sneakers?! Have I ever worn sneakers?! Apart from when I do sports?? And I don’t even wear these kind of sneakers for sports! Ripped jeans and plain jeans for me?? Hoodies!”

I felt like crying, honestly.

“You are bringing me down to valueless, common and plain attire! I’m a Prince!”

“Where? We know you are. No one here does. And know one here cares. You’ll have to deal with it, Asahd. We’re all going to be wearing normal clothing,” Saïda stated and I stared at her, tempted to choke her while I forced a shoe down her throat.

“I don’t give shit, if you wear normal clothing. I’m not supposed to!” I growled.

“You need to relax,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I need to what??” I picked a sneaker and threw it right at her. Luckily, she dodged, else it would’ve hit her hard in the centre of her face.

I was going to rush to her and teach her ass a lesson, but her father intervened immediately.

“Asahd!” he called firmly. “She is right. You need to relax and–”

“Don’t talk to me. You betrayed me.”

“One day, you’ll realise that all this was for your own good. Trust me. I would never want anything that is bad for you or that is sure to cause you any harm. Nor would your parents, Asahd. Please.”

I was very tempted to break something but I decided it would be better to lock myself up in the prison cell, that was supposed to be my bedroom.

“All of you can go to hell,” I hissed and left.

I entered the bedroom that was supposed to be mine. My dressing room back in Zagreh was five times bigger than this shoebox.

′I’m gonna have a heart attack.′

“Breathe,” I shut my eyes tight and inhaled.

I relaxed a little, the only thing making me feel a little better was the fact that it had been cleaned and fixed. The bed had also been fixed with new sheets. The bed. Another problem. So limited in space. Everything was. I tried not to lose it again.

I walked up to the little table by the bed on which my little bag had been placed. I opened it and inside were nothing but my boxers, singlets, sleeping clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, body lotion, shower gel, two towels and socks. Very helpful. Tsk! My expensive perfumes, cologne, hair gel and spray were all left behind.

I sat on the bed, my face in my palms and a lump in my throat. I was already tired of all this nonsense. Unable to control my feelings, I started to sob. I wasn’t used to any of this. My parents had won. They’d defeated me, hands down. It was a lesson I’d already started to regret.

--

I stayed up, thinking and sobbing for hours. Even when I was called to dinner, I didn’t step out. I was still so devastated.

At past 11 when they’d already retired to bed a long time ago, I grabbed my towel and shower gel before heading for the door.

When I opened it, I was surprised to find those shopping bags in front of the door.

Not having any choice, I took them in. What else could I wear?

-

I looked around for the bathroom. I opened the first door and it was Saïda’s, she was fast asleep. I fought the urge to enter and slap her out of her dreams.

I then checked the second and it was Djafar’s.

′So I get the smallest room? What more am I in for?′

My stomach turned when I thought of the fact that there was probably more in store for me.

I went on till the only door left. I opened it and once again, I almost had a heart attack. The smallest toilets ever. A shoebox! A lame shower corner with nothing but a plastic curtain or whatsoever, to cover, and a toilet seat, sink and glass on the other side. It had been thoroughly cleaned and disinfected but just the fact that it was smaller that the toilets, the servants back in Zagreh used, almost killed me.

“What is this?” I frowned, leaning against the doorpost. I was tired of crying and so I simply took a deep breath and decided to shower.

I got under the tiny space under the shower, and turned on the cold and hot water. Expecting warm water to flow down on me, I was shocked.

“AAAH–!” I cut my shout and ran out of that cabin, my chest heaving. The water was cold as ice.

“I am finished.”

I bit my knuckles, closing my eyes. This was going to be very hard. Very, very hard.

′Get your ass back in.′

After hesitating a while, I got under the cold water again. This time, I replaced my shouts with a groan, waiting for the terrible feeling to eventually subside.

~~~~~~