The space appeared silent and empty. Anya tentatively entered Ibrahim's quarters but he wasn't there and relief, though short lived as it could be, wasn't insurmountable. She had a moment to collect herself and removed the pin in the side of her niqab. It had been pinned badly in the rush to get out the door following the request from Ibrahim's manservant to Jida after dinner, and she could feel it pulling uncomfortably. She had it half sorted when both double doors violently burst open and Ibrahim staggered into the room, the stink of alcohol preceding him.
Oh, shit.
She briefly caught the eye of the servant hurriedly closing the doors. The look was slightly apologetic and Anya felt her heart break into a sprint.
Ibrahim eyed her and for a moment, noone said anything. Then he swung towards her, grabbing her chin and forcing her face upwards. In fright, her eyes briefly caught his before she righted herself and aimed them downwards.
Be subservient. Be meek.
But he'd caught it and held onto it. Anya knew, though hoped otherwise, that he would latch onto any failure.
"You do not look at me, you whore."
His voice was dangerously low. Anya stayed silent, watching the floor. Her heart was racing.
"You do not even deserve to look at me. You are lower than the dogs. Lower than pigs. You are good for one thing and one thing only. You are a stupid whore."
Anya was silent but his gripped loosened before he slapped her hard across the face, forcing her to stagger slightly before righting herself. He grabbed her chin again. She could feel her split lip and a cheek burning.
Another slap. Again. And again.
And again she maintained her balance, though her breaths were coming in short pants now.
Ibrahim let go and took a step back.
Was this done?
Anya raised her head slightly and tentatively in time to see his fist. For a microsecond, she knew her body was turning and falling from the impact.
Then nothing but black.
————————
Rick paused his game and held the Nintendo Switch out, stretching his elbows before bringing them back towards his body. Mario was being an asshole and he could feel his elbows cramp. He'd been playing this game far too long in the spaces of downtime. Normally his friends, the pub and rugby meant he didn't spend much time with Mario but the lack of friends, alcohol and digital distractions had brought them back on speaking terms. Though, today, the relationship seemed fraught.
It'd be good to give Dad some space, he had thought. It was why he had been in this communal space since dinner. The garden was fragrant outside the open window, the cushions that lined the walls were comfortable and generally this space was not used so he didn't have to be polite right now. It was perfect except for his elbows. And Mario.
He was just working out how to time his jumps around the bloody spikes when a young girl ran in. She appeared so suddenly and frantically he couldn't help but look up and watch her. Her wide, doe-like eyes looked frightened and panicked.
She was familiar but the coverings the women wore, well they all looked the same.
Something about those eyes though...
Ah! He remembered. She was Anya's servant. And she was heading straight for him.
Rick sat up quickly, suddenly nervous. They'd never spoken. And then she grabbed his arm.
YOU ARE READING
The Whipping Turn
RomanceSold from a dysfunctional family on the brink of Russian poverty to an opulent but oppressive Arabian palace, a young girl named Anya becomes an unwilling second wife to the Sheikh's eldest son. Struggling against the harsh reality of an abusive re...