Aswad set down another empty glass onto the low wooden table beside him and rested his head on his fingers out of annoyance. The drunken men around him laughed in high pitched voices and talked a mile per minute all around him making his growing headache worse.
Three giggling gypsy women stumbled by him, wrapping there long tan arms and bare legs around the disturbed man, worsening his thumping head.
"Hey, Aswad." The woman with long black curls cooed in his ear.
"It's been awhile since we've last seen you here." Long fingers from another woman with stolen jewelry to beautify them, skimmed across his smooth cheek facing his glaring eyes towards her black ones.
"We've missed you." The third one whispered as her hands slid up and down his chest.
"Why don't we…," The one with the variety of jewelry slid a hand inside the open front of his top, touching his bare skin to his displeasure, "keep you busy for the time being, hm?"
"We'll make it worth your while." Aswad can taste the liquor from the curled haired woman's breath and was immediately disgusted by all of them.
He snarled and pushed them all off him resulting to them landing roughly towards the ground.
"Hey!"
"Watch it!"
"What's wrong with you?"
Aswad gave them a hard glare as he pitifully looked down at the trio with their small articles of clothing and over worn jewelry.
"Damn whores." He murmured.
He stood up from the colored mat, threw a few cold coins onto the table, and made his way out of the illegally made underground pub. With hands stuffed into the pockets of his brown pants and the cold night winds carrying the sand with them along their journey, he treaded on with questions boiling in his mind that has not been answered.
Since his last encounter with Gamila (along with being publicly humiliated) he has not been able to speak a word with her after that. Her and her father have locked themselves inside their home, not coming out unless there were some errands needed to be made outside the confinement of their home. Then after a month Aswad finally had the courage to face Gamilla once again in front of the watchful eyes of the villagers. When Humam opened the door he had circles under his eyes, an unshaven face, and solemnly asked why his presence was there. When Aswad stated his business Humam simply gave him a blank stare and replied while closing the door "She's not here."
"Not there?" Aswad scoffed as he now stomped towards his home. "What in the world does he mean by that?"
It's true though. From what he's seen Humam has been the one now shopping for food and other personnel needs while Gamila should be the one to do those chores. And he knows this because he always tries to meet her while she's out and about on the streets.
He knows something's going on.
But what? What has become of his beautiful soon to be wife?
***
He did not sleep that night nor could he stop his daughter from leaving when the sun had not yet risen towards the sky yet. He faked his snoring when the soft steps of Gamila paused at the front door. When she finally opened the door he took a large intake of breath awaiting the deafening sound of the closing door behind her. Tears streamed down his face while sobs were held in when the soft grunts of Gamal and his footsteps were no longer able to be heard. He threw the covers off him and ran out the door to see, for the last time, the small form of Gamila and Gamal in the distance.
"Goodbye." He said and walked back inside the empty household along with a single piece of paper as the last remains of Gamila ever being in his home. He held it close to his chest as the words replayed in his mind, but as if she physically told him herself with her sweet sounding voice.
***
Gamila took the time, after her tears ran dry, to look around the room that now belongs to her for an eternity. It was much more grand than the room she used to have when she lived a life full of wealth. The bed was queen size with wine red comforters, a gold skirt, and silver and gold pillows placed at the end of it. A canopy is placed overhead with a transparent net of the color of sand draped over the bed. A night table is placed beside the bed with a vase of desert roses situated on it. A rather large wardrobe is in the far left corner of the room, and a dresser with a mirror is a few feet away from it against the wall. Across the bed is a round table with two chairs which are all on top of a circular beige and brown rug. Right in front of the bed is a gold low couch that looks soft and comfortable to the touch. A silver chandelier is hung right in the center of the ceiling and a window that is a few feet away from the dresser and across the right side of the bed with has the same sandy color curtains as the net from the canopy. All the furniture looked similar with each other with the same color of dark brown wood and the drawers outlined in a rustic gold color.
Gamila went towards the wardrobe to see the outlined doors and on the outline is a painted pattern of desert roses and vines. All the other furniture's held this kind of similarity. She opened the doors of the wardrobe and rows of dresses and colors flashed her in the eyes. How long has it been since she has worn these? Although she's not the kind to wear such showy dresses they were all so beautiful that at least to just wear them once would make her day.
A knock on the door startled her and she quickly closed the wardrobe.
"Who is it?" She called.
"I brought some tea if you would like some."
With quick steps she went to the door and opened it to reveal three cloaked figures, but two of them seemed more petite than the others she had encountered with and the third was only but waist high.
The one with a tray of tea walked in first towards the round table with the smaller figure following her at her tail. The other walked inside, closed the door behind it and looked Gamila up and down.
"Hm…" It said in a feminine voice.
"How would you like your tea done?" The other feminine voice called.
"Oh. Um." She walked off to them, "Sugar and cream, please."
The smaller figure took the sugar from the others sickly pale hands and into it's own.
Do they all have the same illness?
"I'll do it." It's childish voice spoke up. It poured a few teaspoons of sugar along with the cream and stirred it a little too hard causing some of it to overflow out of the small ceramic cup.
"Konohamaru." The other hissed at him resulting to him being hit across the head.
"Ow!"
Unsure of what to do with the situation at hand, Gamila just stared at the comedic duo and softly smiled at their silliness. A question though, burned into her thoughts wanting to be released as soon as possible, but she held it in for another time.
"We are very sorry of what has befallen you," It poured another cup tea, "Our master can be quite… Inconsiderate at times."
"What you did though was very brave. To come at your own free will." The other came up beside Gamila which, she didn't notice, was looking through her wardrobe of dresses.
Gamila sat herself down in one of the chairs, "Of course I would. My fathers life was in danger. Now I can never see him again and all by dreams have been torn away from me like my beating heart has been ripped out of me."
A single pale hand reached out and touched Gamilas. She suppressed a squeak from the ice cold touch and looked up at the hidden features of the figure before her.
"Not everything will be as bad as it seems," It lifted it's hand away, "You'll see."
"Yeah. And the master is not exactly all that bad." The younger voice piped in.
Gamila forced a smile towards the child, hoping that it's right.
"Alright. Alright." The other voice came in, "Everyone head their way on out."
"Come on, Konohamaru."
They left the tray of tea and exited the room.
"Okay." The remaining figure clapped its hands together, "I picked out the perfect dress for you to wear this evening."
"Dress?… Oh." It hit her that she has been forced to dine with Wahsh. She resented his rudeness towards her and absolutely wants nothing to do with him. Although she may be his prisoner he has given her a room of her own, clothing, and servants. This obviously shows that she is being treated as a guest rather than a prisoner and therefore she declines his invitation whether it even was one or not. She does not want to befriend or even get acquainted with him. She's here because of him and therefore will do as she please.
"It's alright. You don't have to trouble yourself further with this and thank you, but… I'm not going."
"What? But you must go. The master said so."
Another knock was heard and in came another servant.
"Your dinner awaits," It bowed.
