The Imperials

Patience

Last Warning: Depictions of violence is portrayed. Please be notified. 

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Umme Qulsum POV:

After so many protests and disputes in the limo, Prince Faakhir had violently ignored my notions and had ordered his men to lock me up in one of the isolated rooms with a connected bathroom. This room was quite spacious but dingy, plain white. A small, white mattress was cast on one side and an almost fractured dresser on another. Everything was dusty, they haven't even bothered to clean it up for me. 

 A small window was high, up above cramped near the ceiling, notifying me about the sinking sunlight that was slipping away from the brink of earth. The window wasn't big enough for me to fit my entire body, but even if I did, I'd break a few bones when I landed on the ground. Who knew how high this floor was from the ground?

 I was ordered to be here for a day, the delivery of food was to be made by one of his men to keep me breathing and alive. Prince Faakhir wanted to tie the knot as quickly as possible, obviously through acts of force. Every minute, my heart thrummed loudly in my chest ready to burst. Panic raged in my head, I rushed around the room like a lunatic to magically find a doorway out of here. I panicked with terror. I needed to escape. I needed to get out of here. 

Allah help me!

By now, perhaps mom and dad discovered me missing. Perhaps, Musa, Harun, and my brother were searching for me and perhaps they notified the police by now, but will they ever find me? How long will I not see them for?

I already missed them so much. 

Feeling helpless, I leaned on the wall for support slowly sinking on the tiled floor. Uncontrollably, tears trickled down my eyes and I began sobbing loudly with my arms tightly wrapped around my knees. My heart was cracking open into a pit of emptiness, a black void. I was losing myself. I was losing my mind. I didn't want to marry Prince Faakhir. I didn't want to be kidnapped. I didn't want to see the sinking sun of Saudi like this, through the small window of Prince Faakhir's room. Why were people so rude? Why did I deserve such treatment? Why Allah, why? 

The light was slipping away, promising a closer marriage every ticking second. Every minute that ticked off the clock above was loud and painful like a timed bomb, creating a hissing suspense. A forced brutal marriage was to occur in less than twenty-four hours where this villain was going to force himself upon me. I felt utterly disgusted just by the thought. 

Time was passing, I needed to get to the action. If Safoora were here, she could have probably easily plotted things out and could have magically produced an escape plan. If Musa was here, he would do the same, and of course, make me forget about my worries with his jokes. Harun would do the same. Where were they when I needed them the most? Halima probably would have threatened to kill the prince, and since she did have volcanic anger issues, the prince would be dead by now. She was dead serious when she was mad.

Like a maniac, I laughed. My family was amazing!

Right now, I did have an escape plan.

My only hope was Allah. I had to reach out to him, communicate, and bind the broken connection between us. If Allah was the same Allah that had helped the Prophet's and Sahaba's reach Jannah, the same Allah who had saved many from adversities, Allah would do the same for me. It wasn't Allah who had changed, it was the people who had lost their hope and Imaan towards Allah.

Gladly, the room had a prayer mat placed inside the dresser's drawers, and I reach in to use it to pour my heart out to Allah. 

Once I stood in salah, the time continued to tick away, but it didn't feel worthless anymore. I was doing something, I was begging Allah to create an escape plan for me. Once I was in sujood (prostration), I sobbed even more. "