"When tyranny becomes law, rebellion becomes duty."
Thomas Jefferson
I knew I had to leave…for good.
Later that night, when I was sure the minister would have returned, I decided it was time to inform him of my decision to return to India. I was also determined to let him know about all Ibrahim's atrocities.
Yes, he might have been aware of some of them, but he needed to know his son was also a cold-blooded murderer.
Even though my body was throbbing with pain, I slipped into my sandals and slowly made my way up the flight of stairs that separated his room from mine. Getting to the door, I tapped as hard as my wounded hand could manage.
"Come in!" he bellowed.
When I walked in, I was relieved to find that he had no female company that night.
He gave me a cursory look, his only acknowledgment of my battered appearance a slight arch of an eyebrow. Other than that, he said nothing.
"I would like to return to India," I said, going straight to the point. "I made a mistake coming back after Orion died. I would like to go back home now."
The minister smiled and took a puff of his pipe.
"May I ask why?"
"It's Ibrahim," I answered brazenly. "Look at what he has done to me. Look at my face. This morning, he attacked me. He beat me up like an animal. He stripped me naked and humiliated me in front of everyone."
The minister's face was unreadable. "So, I heard."
"And that's not all," I said, after a brief silence.
"He…he killed Jason and his family. He had their family house burnt, killing everyone inside."
The minister chuckled. "Is that so? Ibrahim set the house on fire himself? And who is Jason anyway?"
"The…the gardener."
He nodded. "Ah yes, the gardener. Handsome young man, wasn't he?"
I hesitated, not quite knowing if it was a trick question.
"Zeynep, Zeynep. Zeynep, my wife," the minister continued to chuckle. "You are so naïve. You actually think Ibrahim has the kind of intelligence required to take care of important business? Beating women and shouting all over the place are how far he can go. He doesn't possess the intellectual capacity to get things done."
A slow chill started to creep up my spine, the realization of what the minister was saying dawning on me.
"You think you can mess around with local boys without any consequence?" he snarled, suddenly rising to his feet. "You think I would just sit back, fold my hands, and watch you make a fool of me?"
"But we don't even have a real marriage! You have other women. I don't even share your bed. Why would it matter to you if I found love with another man?" I cried.
"zeynep, you are my wife until I say otherwise!" he answered. "I came for your hand, and I paid a hefty price for it. Don't you ever forget that!" He shook his head and laughed. "You said you made a mistake coming back after your brother died. What a joke! My dear, you were there in India only because I let you. Trust me when I say I would have brought you back here eventually, whether you liked it or not. I brought you here to be my wife, and be my wife you will!"
"Well, I'm going!" I said, my voice raised by a few octaves. "I'm done being your slave. I'm done wasting my life away. First thing tomorrow, I'll be on a bus to India and nothing you can do can stop me."
Chief smiled coyly. "No problem, Zeynep. You can be on the first bus to India . There's no problem."
Slightly taken aback by his concession, I turned around to leave his room.
"But be rest assured that what happened to your gardener lover and his family will be child's play compared to what will happen to your father and brother," came his chilling words.
I stopped dead in my tracks, his words like a sharp arrow piercing my back. I turned around to look at him, and there was a satisfied smile on his face, seeing that his words had made the desired impact.
"And when I'm done with them, I will hunt you down in whatever hole you have crawled to, and I will have dogs tear you apart, limb from limb," he continued. "So, think wisely about any grand plans you might be nursing."
By now, I was quivering like a leaf. Without another word, I stumbled out of the room and half-limped, half-ran down the stairs to my bedroom. The minister had not only blatantly accepted responsibility for Jason's death, he had made it implicitly clear that he wouldn't hesitate to do even worse to my own family.
I might hate my father but he was still my sperm donor and mama loved him.
I knew then and there that I couldn't take that risk. I couldn't do that to my mother and my Brother, not after all they'd already been through.
I sat awake in bed all night, not trusting what would happen if I closed my eyes to sleep. The honest truth was that I was trapped in that house. Jason had been a nice dream, but it was time to return to earth and face my reality.
At exactly 9 am that morning, there was a knock on my door. I rose to my feet and shuffled to it, not even caring who could be on the other side of it
"See what you made me do to your beautiful face," Ibrahim said, a smug smile on his face.
So frightened was I that I put up no fight when he shoved past me into the room, pulling me to the bed without even locking the door. As I succumbed to him, it wasn't as the woman who did so because of what she stood to gain, but as one who knew that was the only choice she had.
I was back to my sad reality