The Oval Office ✓ (Book One)

Chapter Twenty

13 years ago

I would be dead by now if it weren't for her. I don't exactly have much else to look forward to around here. I did not have an easy birth, but given who her father is, I'm just about the only woman in this country who had a doctor deliver her baby, and it would've been so much worse without him.

  Pain medication was still a big no no, of course, but I wasn't even focused on that while it was happening. The fifth degree tear and bleeding, along with my daughter's lungs not developing properly- were, and still are the biggest concern. Now, she is still in the nicu the royal family set up for her. I'm with her when I can be, but the king, who insisted that his son and I get married after he found out, is having people 'train' me for royal life. Which I don't want, of course, but here it doesn't matter what I want.

  I'm expected to shut up and listen. I was born into a family of servants, but sadly, we still have it better off than most. Even after carrying a child of royal blood, I have no rights here. After our wedding, I will be Prince Ahmad's property. While he's not as bad as the others, he's still intolerable at times, but he loves our daughter. I plant a kiss on her forehead, pausing for a few seconds before I leave the room.

I can't live like this much longer. I'll lose my fucking shit- go crazy like my mom and end up hanging at the monthly executions. Hell, the only thing saving me right now is my breast milk. "There you are-" Ahmad finds me in the hallway. "How's she doing?"

"She's alive.. but still sick." I reply. He goes to walk past me into her room, but one of the attendees places a hand on his shoulder.

"The king is waiting on you two...and you know how he is about waiting on anything." The attendee says. Ahmad sighs, I grab his arm , and we go to the throne room. I courtesy, looking down like they taught me. From day one living here has been about survival- even if that means suppressing every part of me that screams 'this isn't fair'.

  "Miss- you will soon be Aileen Ahmad. I'm happy to see you are learning your place." The king says.

  "Oh fuc-" Ahmad grabs my arm, whispering 'do you have a death wish?' in my ear. "It's taken some getting used to, your majesty, but I'm sure I'll adjust eventually." I put on the fake smile I've mastered over the years.

  "Yes, well that is understandable. There is an adjustment period with everything. Tell me- is your gown finished yet?"

  "No sir. The designer is still working on it but it should be done soon."

  "Bring her in." The king gestures to an attendee, and within a few minutes, the designer arrives. "Ara?"

  "Yes, your majesty?" Her voice is shaky.

  "Did i or did I not give you a hard deadline?"

  "Well... yes your majesty, but it's... simply not enough time. Laying the material down took over three days and-"

  "Was I clear that it was to be done by yesterday?" The king repeats himself, and she hesitantly nods. Fuck- I know what's happening. I've seen it done a thousand times. He gives one of his guards the look, and there's a bullet in between her eyes within seconds.

  "WHAT THE FUCK YOU PIECE OF SHIT SHE HAS TWELVE CHILDREN!" I scream, not caring anymore. I want to slap him, punch him- anything so bad that Ahmad struggles to hold me back.

  " she should have done her job then." The king chuckles. "Handle her." He gestures to Ahmad, who has to drag me out, cursing the king the entire way.

  "Are you fucking insane?" He shakes my shoulders. "You know exactly what happens to people that question the king here!"

  "Has it occurred to you that I am this close to not giving a shit anymore?"

  "We have a daughter- how can you be so goddamn selfish?"

  "Your father may be a piece of shit but even he won't kill children- she is safe."

  "Don't you fucking get it? Nobody is safe here!!"

  "Well then I guess there's no point in trying." I reply. I turn my back, looking out the window.

  "Look.. I want you to stay alive. That's all. No child deserves to be motherless."

  "That's ironic." I snort. "Given what-"

  "BOOM!BOOM!!BOOM BOOM!" We're thrown off guard by explosions outside. Some of the windows shatter from the pressure, pieces of glass flying everywhere. My ears ring, and I can't really hear anything- but we both watch as dozens of people descend upon the throne room. We become two of them- and I almost smile as I catch a glimpse of the throne blown to pieces and the king lying there, severely injured, medical staff around him.

  They apply tourniquets where necessary, but at this point it's no use. He's missing three limbs and an ear, bleeding out faster and faster by the second. Then a switch flips in me-This is my chance. Everybody,even the guards assigned to the border will be taken aback by the news that the king is dying. I won't have long though-a few minutes at best. I have to leave now if I want out. Without her.

  If I leave an infant in this place I'm never going to forgive myself- though I'm never gonna forgive myself for having her, anyways. I don't have a mothering bone in my body. I try to work out a scenario, any scenario in which I could take her with me,  but come up with nothing, and now I really don't have much time left.

  "Fuck it." I think to myself. "I'm sorry."

  The castle is only a couple hundred yards away from the border- all I have to do is get over it, and once I've done that I'm safe, since they can't fire at anything unless it enters our airspace. I see the guards assigned to this area gathered together, worried looks on their faces, not watching the fence as closely as they usually do.

  Climbing it is a different issue- there's barbed wire at the top. "Don't be a  pussy." That voice in my head says. "It's now or never."

  So I do something I didn't think I could- I scale it like a spider monkey.I hear a bullet  whizz right pass my ear as I reach the top and my hand goes over the border, and grimace as one of the barbs cuts deep into my leg and another few into my arms and butt. I almost scream as I stumble over the edge, shocking the Americans and Iranians stationed to the other side. As they gather around me, asking me a hundred different questions at once, guilt forms in the pit of my stomach, and bile threatens to rise up.

  Holy shit. I actually did that.