Love's Slave (manxman)

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Kamal...

(The stunning Leila Hatami as my idea of Kamal's mother)

I was experiencing a myriad of emotions as I whisked away from that house of horrors sitting in the back seat of my father's limousine. Rage, betrayal, and unimaginable resentment towards my deceased grandfather, pity for my broken hearted mother, and wealth of concern and undefined feelings for Jameel were boiling through the very blood in my veins all at once.

It had taken several well meaning looks from Yasmin and the fact that Jameel had nervously folded in on himself that kept me calm. The gorgeous little cutie had managed to make himself as small as possible as he huddled under the folds of the blanket in the very far corner of the car's plush backseat. My mother kept glancing at me with sympathy and pleading shining in her eyes.

I couldn't even open my mouth to reassure her that I was fine even after being dealt yet another blow by the insipid bastard that was her father. I knew that if I spoke to her right now, the fury that I was battling would prevent me from censoring my words and the tone in which I would speak to her. She had loved her father despite the fact that he was such an self righteous asshole to the rest of us.

The El-Sayed men have managed to keep her feelings from being hurt over the years. We have never made her aware of all the vicious words or the spiteful behavior he had generously splurged on us. We all spared her feelings and helped her keep her rose colored lenses on when it came to her parent.

Now, looking at her with the look of shame and disappointment written all over her features, I could understand why my father was so amandant to keep her unaware of the true essence of the man that her father was. I am sure that not even my father's coddling or his overprotectiveness is going to conceal the enormity of what the old bastard had done to Jameel.

I felt bad for her, grandfather's staggering depravity is slowly coming to light and many of the illusions that she's held onto in regards to the deceased man is going to shatter and blow away on the wind like the smoke screen that made up the deceitful, hypocritical son of a bitch's true nature.

I felt Jameel shift closer towards me as the car turned into the long winding cobbled drive of my family's estate home. My heart warmed that he unconsciously sought me out even after what has been done to him. If this poor darling had turned out to fear every male that came into contact or even speaking range of him after what he has endured, I wouldn't have blamed him in the least for his fear and mistrust.

Even with my churning emotions swirling and fighting for dominance in my head. I couldn't help but to be in awe of this young man and surviving his ordeal admitted from his own mouth, and the unimaginable atrocities he has suffered over the years. From the information I was receiving via text messages from Farooq, he and my father were pulling from the remaining staff at the old man's house and if my math was correct, the old tyrant signed and became Jameel's guardian when was six years old.

The young man's mother had unfortunately passed away from a severe case of pneumonia. She had come from parts unknown and was in grandfather's service for years before her husband, a man who had also been an employee in the household was beaten to death by an angry mob. He was accused by a young girl in a neighboring household of attempted rape.

No one could tell if the accusation against the man had been true or not, but that was the nature of this country. Angry self righteous men piteously claiming that they were carrying out Allah's will and who are more than willing to beat you until you are dead for breaking Allah's laws. It didn't matter if the issue was a minor infraction or a severe and blatant act of disregard against the teachings of the Quran.