"Escape by Arabian Nightfall"
Chapter 1:
It had been six years since that fateful day. Six years since her father selfishly gave her away as a bride to some man who was the son of some oil tycoon in Afghanistan, so he could rebuild the family fortune. She could remember it like it was yesterday.
Pacifica woke up thirsty and decided to go downstairs for a glass of water. She stopped midway when she heard a voice coming from the office.
" You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Hosseini," Preston uttered. " Very well. I will let her go for 33.5 million dollars and not a penny less…I knew you would see it my way, Mr. Hosseini. See you tomorrow afternoon, Pacific Standard Time. I assure you she will be worth it, Mr. Hosseini. You won't regret it. I promise."
Preston hung up the phone just as Pacifica entered the room.
" What are you doing up so late," Pacifica asked, raising an eyebrow.
" I had an international business meeting," Preston then raised an eyebrow. " What are you doing up so late?"
" I was thirsty," She retorted. " Who was that, anyway? You never work this late."
" That is none of your concern," Preston shrugged her off. " Now, go get your water and go back to bed. We have a busy schedule tomorrow."
" We," Pacifica was baffled. " What do you mean "we"?"
" They are coming here tomorrow, on business, and your mother and I expect you to be there with us this time," Preston stated. " It is time you start learning what Northwest Mud Flaps is all about. You are, after all, the sole heir to the fortune."
" Daddy, I told you, I'm not interested," Pacifica rebutted. " I am going into fashion designing and there is nothing you can do to stop me."
" Well, guess you'll have to change majors then, because I will not have a Northwest wallowing around anywhere below Upper Class wages," Preston argued.
" Daddy, business isn't my thing," Pacifica rejected. " It's your thing…Or is it? Daddy, didn't you ever want to be something else other than a business man?"
" I did," Preston retorted, turning away from her. " I wanted to be a chef, but your grandfather shipped me off to business school instead. I must admit, he did me quite the favor, for I would not have met your mother and you would have never been born. We also would not have been as well off as we were before…Ugh…Weirdmaggedon."
" So, you are saying you are happy being a business man," Pacifica interviewed.
" I never was and never will be, but that's life," Preston said, staring out the window.
" Then do what he never did and let me join a career that makes me happy," Pacifica gestured to herself. " Who cares how much it pays. Besides, I could become famous someday. You never know."
" I'm afraid I can't do that, Pacifica," Preston turned around, darkness radiating from his form. " You are the only one I trust with the business. It goes and the Northwest name will fade into obscurity."
" After what our family did, I think we deserve it," Pacifica murmured.
Preston glared at his daughter then stood up from his chair. He walked over to her, looking down his nose at her.
" For years, our family has lied and cheated everybody," Pacifica raised her voice as she continued, unphased. " It's about time we give somebody else a turn for once and allow our family to be normal for once."
" You bite your tongue," Preston hissed, slapping her across the face. " Look. I am not taking "no" for an answer. You are to be awake at 7 am sharp, fed, groomed, and in your best dress by the time we leave for Portland at 9am. No ifs, ands, or buts."
Pacifica, who was now 22 and no longer 16, was standing on the balcony of hers and her husband's mansion. She climbed onto the guardrail, sat down, and flipped the hood of her headscarf down, staring into the night sky. Her thoughts continued racing.
That argument escalated until Priscilla had woken up and broke them up. The morning after, everybody was silent. Pacifica resentfully did what she was told and met her parents down stairs. Her mother gave her an expression of solemn, her eyes tearing up. Preston was shuffling through the paperwork in his hands, expressionless. He glanced up.
" Ready to go," Preston asked.
" Yes, Father," Pacifica retorted, resentfully.
" Good," Preston chimed. " Let's go."
The family climbed into their Mercedes Benz and began driving to Portland. Priscilla fiddled with her thumbs, while biting her lip. Pacifica was glaring at the floor with her arms folded. Preston glanced into the rearview mirror and sighed.
" Pacifica, we only want what's best for you," Preston started. " You know that, right?"
" Yes, Father," Pacifica muttered.
" Now, about the meeting," Preston continued. " We have three guests coming in from Afghanistan. Their family owns an oil company in RichieRichishbar. They are, um, traditional Muslims, so do try to hold your tongue, okay?"
Pacifica nodded her head in response.
" Excellent," Preston chirped, grinning. " You're doing well already."
A few hours later, they arrived at the Portland Airport. Their guests were waiting outside the terminal, holding up a sign with the Northwest family name on it.
" Ah, salaam," Preston greeted energetically as he approached the group. " Glad you could make it, Mr. Hosseini."
" Salaam, Mr. Northwest," Mr. Hosseini greeted back then eyed the family. " And who are these charmingly, beautiful women?"
" This is my wife, Priscilla, and my daughter, Pacifica," Preston replied.
" Nice to meet you," Mr. Hosseini stated then gestured to a woman whose appearance was obscured by a burqa and a man who was about twenty years older than Pacifica. " This is my wife, Mrs. Hosseini, and my son, Raja. So, about the meeting? We would like to get this done and over with, if you don't mind. Something came up back at home and it is very important we get back there as soon as we can."
" Not at all," Preston stated. "We reserved the only temple in the city, so we could do business there."
" Perfect," Mr. Hosseini chimed.
It went all downhill for Pacifica from there. When they reached the temple, she was told to change into a burqa and sit down on the floor at some table with stubs for legs. From there, her father and Mr. Hosseini began talking business.
" So, do we have a deal," Preston uttered.
" I think she will make a fine bride for Raja," Mr. Hosseini retorted, jovially. " Yes, we have a deal."
" What," Pacifica shrieked, pulling off the purple burqa. " You're marrying me off? Is that what this meeting was all about?"
" Pacifica, your mother and I have been struggling and thought this was the best choice for all of us," Preston turned to her with a stoic expression.
" Because 625 million dollars per year isn't enough to live off of," she screamed, her face turning red. " I can't believe you would put your stupid business before your own daughter."
" Pacifica, you will be married to a rich man in the middle east," Preston tried to reason with her. " You'll have everything you could ever want and you won't even have to lift a finger."
" Daddy, I want to work," Pacifica roared, getting in his face. " I want to go to college and I want to work. Not get married to some stranger who is almost as old as you are."
" Do not worry, Hamshira," Mr. Hosseini stated, calmly. " You'll have access to a women's college there and you may work if you so wish. Might I ask, what would you like to be?"
" Finally, somebody cares," Pacifica groaned as she looked up at the ceiling then calmed down, turning to him with a smile on her face. " I would like to be a fashion designer, some day. It's my passion."
" Did you hear that, my wife," Mr. Hosseini turned to Mrs. Hosseini, grinning. " She wants to make clothing. Perfect, considering our busy schedules, wouldn't you say?"
His wife nodded her head.
" My wife is a lawyer for our family business," Mr. Hosseini wrapped an arm around her. " She makes sure that we are following the laws and handles any lawsuits that come our way. Sadly, she no longer has time to make clothes. She makes the most beautiful designs that I have ever seen, too."
" My, Afghanistan has certainly changed the past few years," Priscilla noted with relief.
" Well, now that ISIS has finally been flushed out, it hasn't been quite as bad," Mr. Hosseini stated. " Still a mess there, though."
" Ah, yes, the Egyptian god fellow," Preston muttered with an eye roll, earning an awkward silence from the group.
" Anyway, back to the matter at hand," Mr. Hosseini started, pulling away from his wife. "I will pay the bride price as requested and Raja and Pacifica can sign the paperwork for the Mullah."
" Splendid," Preston chimed.
Once Mr. Hosseini had paid the bride price, he signaled the Mullah to come into the room. He came in with the paperwork and handed it to Raja. Raja signed his name on the marriage contract then passed it to Pacifica. Pacifica stared at the contract, not picking up the pen. She narrowed her eyes at it, wishing it would burn.
" Well, what are you waiting for," Preston raised his voice, impatience lacing it. " Sign it."
" No," Pacifica murmured.
" What," Preston glared, scowling.
" No," Pacifica yelled, turning to him. " I can't marry somebody I just met and move to a country I am not familiar with."
" Oh, but we have met, many times," Raja commented. " I went to many of your parents' parties."
" Well, I can't marry somebody I don't have feelings for," Pacifica protested, folding her arms.
" Pacifica, please," Preston pleaded. " Do it for us."
" You," Pacifica shouted, slamming her fists on the table. " Everything I have ever done in my life has always been for you. When will you bend over backwards and do what I want to do?"
" We have and we're starting to regret it," Preston argued, leaning toward her. " Lately, you have been nothing but a troubled teenager. Always acting so rebellious."
" Oh, and what you and Mom have been doing is so much better than what I've been doing," Pacifica fought back, doing the same.
Preston did what he had not done in a long time and pulled out the bell. He started to ring it. Pacifica silenced herself and turned to the wall, folding her arms again. Priscilla turned to their guests and grinned, letting out a nervous chuckle.
" She gets like this when she's excited about something," she uttered, earning an eyebrow raise from Mr. Hosseini.
" Suddenly, I'm not so sure if this is such a good idea," he said. " In Afghanistan, a woman is to never raise her voice at a man. If she does, terrible consequences will come after."
" What kind of consequences," Priscilla questioned, worried.
" You don't want to know," Mr. Hosseini replied. " Whatever you Americans classify as abuse, I think."
Priscilla gasped, eyes widened. She turned to Preston who smirked while tapping his fingers together.
" Sounds perfect," he chimed. " My daughter needs a place that keeps wayward teens like her in line."
Priscilla grabbed her husband by the elbow.
" Excuse me," Priscilla interrupted. " I need to talk to my husband, alone."
She led Preston out of the room, leaving Pacifica with their guests. Soon, Preston and Priscilla began yelling at each other, arguing over their daughter's fate. Unfortunately, Preston won the argument by smacking Priscilla across the face, sending her to the floor. He walked back into the room, his wife stumbling after. They sat back down.
" Pacifica, you would be crazy not to sign that contract," Priscilla lied, trying to hold back her tears.
Pacifica eyed her mother, lingering on the large red mark on her face. She looked up at her father, who was rubbing his wrist.
" And if I refuse," Pacifica asked, looking him in the eye.
" You will be forced to live on the streets, carrying nothing but the clothes on your back," Preston manipulated, putting his hands on the table. " And don't say you will just go live with your commoner friends, because we will tell the police you've run away. You go live with them, they get in trouble for kidnapping. Understand?"
" As if you have any sway with the town's people anymore," Pacifica scoffed, pointing at him.
" We also have another way of getting rid of your friends and making sure you will never get your pathetic dream job, just in case that idea falls through," Preston stated with venom in his voice as he placed his hands on her shoulders. " You will be known as the runaway who committed mass murder in the town of Gravity Falls. There will be nowhere for you to go, except prison."
Preston let go of her and pulled back, smirking. Pacifica sighed in defeat and signed the contract. Before she knew it, she was on a plane headed for Afghanistan. When she got there, her in-laws began leading her to their mansion. After they reached their destination, they went inside. Mrs. Hosseini took off her burqa, revealing a huge scar down the side of her face. Pacifica's eyes widened.
" You don't have to wear that in here, if you don't want to," Mrs. Hosseini uttered, smiling.
Pacifica took off her burqa and hung it on a nearby coat rack. She looked around the room she was in. Expensive furniture and vases lined the stucco walls of the living room. On the floor was a rug, made from a Siberian tiger's pelt. There was also a fireplace in the living room. Above the mantel sat a portrait of a large, round clay building in Kabul. Next, she located a grand staircase, which broke off into three directions.
" So, where do I sleep," Pacifica asked.
" You'll see," Raja replied. "I'll take you there after dinner."
" Um, I'm kinda not feeling well," Pacifica lied, latching onto her stomach. " That turbulence from the plane must've wrecked my stomach."
" Well, in that case, I'll show you it right now," Raja stated, walking passed her.
He led her up the staircase, taking the middle hallway. The two passed several doors, until they reached the one at the end of the hall. Raja opened the door. Pacifica went inside and looked around in awe. It was bigger than her old room at Northwest Manor. The room contained a California King-sized canopy bed, three walk-in closets, a bathroom with a swimming pool and a Jacuzzi, and a living room.
" See you at dinner," Raja chimed then left, shutting the door behind her.
Pacifica walked over to the bed, laid down on it, and began crying. Soon, she fell asleep, missing dinner.