Juliet
After that horrific day, I hadn't seen Marcus for months. My dad had yet to come and talk with me and tell me what happened between them; no one wanted to tell me what was going on. Lying on my bed, I was thinking about everything… that was my first mistake. Most of the time, I would listen to music or read, but lately, I had been bored with everything that had always been enough. It was like I tasted the truth and wanted to know more. The fact that nothing ever happened made it worse; my days were the same from morning to night. To go outside, I had to cover myself. I was not allowed to walk alone—not that there was anywhere to go. I had no friends because it wasn't allowed. All girls were locked up in their homes until they got married. Which seemed like that was where I was. My parents would probably have me wait until I was fifty before even considering it; the thought terrified me. To be on the compound for that long, doing what I had been doing… all day long. I sat up thinking about marrying Marcus. It wasn't like he was the only man I had ever talked to. I didn't feel about anyone like I did about him, and he was my only real friend…
I remembered my words about going into the Ahmed house. It freaked me out thinking about getting beaten every time I did something wrong. Knowing myself, it would be daily. Marcus wouldn't be able to help me… No! Like that day, he would simply watch—that would be worse. I wouldn't be allowed to read. Watch Tv… talk…
I threw my legs off the bed, "No, not even for Marcus. He was right. He just enough." I would hate him before we had our first child. How would I sleep with him if I was constantly angry at him? Disappointed and hating my life. Would he start forcing me…? Cut out my tongue. I would rather die than see his father ever again.
Jumping up, I paced the room. I was going out of my mind, "This is what happens when parents don't communicate with their kids," I whispered to myself. All I had was my mom and dad. When it came down to it, my father was incredible. They were great with me. I didn't know if he would be able to do anything… if something terrible happened. Would he go against the compound for my mom and me? Could he even do anything?
I didn't know how I got from not going to the Ahmed house to doing something stupid. Before I could govern myself, chastise myself… I was on a mission out of the house. Alone. Without supervision. Without my veil. I left not covering my head, hair loose—and makeup. I was rebelling like the teenager I was, desperate for understanding.
Walking down the market's main street created such a stir that I knew I had made a mistake. Everyone greeted me. Spoke to me, were weirdly friendly, and gave me cards. Ignorantly, I gave my name and my surname. It seemed the eighteen-hundreds were still in existence and that calling cards were still a thing. What they were for… I could only imagine.
When I got the twentieth one, I thought, "Stuff it." I was already there. If that were the only way things would change, so be it. I would find at least one other man who would treat me like he did and not be Qadir's son.
I was sitting at a table, having a cool drink, with Joe hovering nervously in the background, when I saw Kubra across the street staring at me. Of course, that produced Marcus a few minutes later. He came running, and when he saw me, his feet skidded in the dirt to an abrupt stop, breathing heavily. For a usual poker-faced Marcus, the many emotions flashing through his eyes made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Fear was the worst, but after that came the barely controlled anger; he manifested a few seconds later, struggling to contain himself as his eyes changed and changed. He leaned down, resting his hands on his knees; it took a few minutes before he strutted over. He didn't greet me and grabbed me around my upper arm. Marcus paused when he saw all the cards and swore loudly; he screamed as he swiped them off the table. I had never seen him like that. I took offense and wanted to say something. "Shhh," Kubra was standing in front of me, his finger on his lips. Kubra helped me at Qadir's house the last time, so I shut my mouth. He had a veil and pulled it over my head. They escorted me out. There wasn't one eye that wasn't looking our way.
Marcus pushed me into the car and got inside after me. Neither of them said a word; the tension was so thick I didn't know what to do. Marcus had humiliated me in front of so many people. He grabbed me and pulled me out of my chair. The calling cards were from families looking for another addition. He would not have it. I ripped off the veil and threw it at him. I didn't understand why my father kept teaching me about the world out there and not about the one I was stuck in.
Kubra drove quickly as if there was a rush to get home before something happened. When the car pulled up, my mom and dad rushed out. When they saw me, they were furious! More than Marcus… I peeked at Kubra for support. He shook his head, which seemed like the only way they knew how to convey—you made a mistake. I sighed heavily, lowering mine.
"She had at least… twenty cards."
My mother's hand jutted up to cover her mouth. My father was clenching and unclenching his fists. I will have my answer sooner rather than later.
"My father knows about her education as well. That's why I have been lying low."
My dad strutted up to him, "Why didn't you say something."
"Because if I stayed away, there was no need."
"It seems like your absence made it worse, Marcus! I told you!"
Marcus was at a loss… "Wait! I'll do what I can… Can I talk to her alone?" My parents went into the house, and Kubra got in the car. Marcus walked away so no one could hear, and I followed him. He was trying to find words, but nothing came out, "Julie... I…" His breathing was ragged, exasperated; he couldn't say anything.
"For heaven's sake, Marcus. Just say it. I'm not a child anymore. Have you not noticed?"
His eyes and mouth twitched, "Your father said you don't want to marry me."
I nodded, "Because of your father."
"So, you like me? You think you love me, but you are too scared."
I nodded again.
"Why don't you marry me? We will move, and we will live our own lives."
"It's as good as going into your father's house… You want what he wants. He will force you to take more wives. You will never be home… I will be left to what, cook, and raise kids… You were right… And I'm sorry for it, but you're not enough."
Marcus grabbed his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger, rubbing his hand over his mouth, "But I will come home every day. And what if I take another wife? Are you so against sharing me… I could be sleeping with other women every night, and you wouldn't know. It doesn't bother you now... What is the worst that could happen?"
"I will not be allowed to read. My room will be searched daily. I will always be in trouble. Do you not care about what happened to your mother. Beaten and getting raped every night!"
Marcus flinched, put his hand on his heart, and took a step away from me.
"Would you do that to me or just take another wife? There must be some guy who could get me out of here?"
Marcus narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to me, "You went out to find another guy that would..." Marcus drew in a breath, biting his bottom lip. "You wanted to find someone who would get you out of here?" He laughed sardonically… "Juliet! All the houses are like that. And you will always be a second wife… You will never get out of here."
The words deflated me. It hurt me. Tears pooled in the corner of my eyes, "I saw how you treated me today. It is only the beginning. You are too much like him."
He lifted his hand and pointed his finger at me. I scoffed. He lowered it again and came to stand almost on top of me, "I am nothing like my father," he said through gritted teeth. We stared at each other with an even stubbornness. Marcus's hands lifted, and he tilted my chin, hovering his mouth over mine. Ever so slightly, I leaned my face away from him so he couldn't kiss me. His hands became rigid and stiff on my skin. His eyes closed.
"Take me away. Do something. Is there no other way?"
"For f—sake, Juliet! There is no other way…! You should've stayed contented that your father gave you so much freedom. He treated you like a person… And today, you spat in his face. You spat in my face!"
A tear escaped and rolled down my cheeks. The emotions were getting to me. Marcus wiped it off, kissing my forehead, "I'm sorry, that was mean… Julie, I have no other woman. There is no one but you. I will never hit you. I have a temper, but we have known each other for so long. Have I ever?"
"The problem is not that you will hurt me… The problem is you do nothing when something happens to me."
***
Marcus
I sighed, praying up into heaven; whatever was there should answer me. She had opened an ocean of problems with one little trip to the market. It wasn't as if she was dressed inappropriately. She had on a long, thick skirt with many layers. She was covered from neck to toe with the shirt she had on. It had even been long sleeves. Her breasts were even dressed like they should be when she went out… It would not be enough; the way she had looked today with her hair down and the makeup… that mouth of hers. She was beautiful and striking. She oozed sex appeal by just being Juliet. She was not a child anymore, and that day was her debut into society. I had hoped she would stay my Julie for a little while longer, but it was like trying to stop a train from speeding down the track. Some kids just grew up faster than others. She was right… I couldn't do it to her. Forcing her into a life like that would kill her… if she did not do it herself. I lifted my hands from her shoulders, raised them in surrender, and walked away. I turned away from her. I knocked loudly when I passed the door, "She doesn't want to, and I won't do it any other way!"
"You will regret it, Marcus!" Liam screamed at me, holding onto the frame of the door, "I'm telling you now! You will be the reason it gets worse for her." I turned away from him and glanced back at Juliet standing there. She had no clue what was happening.
For the rest of the day, I sat thinking, contemplating every scenario that could arise from all the cards she got. What my father would do if he found out. Liam's words... The compound rules about a woman starting down the path Juliet was on.
***
Juliet
After Marcus left, I went into the house. My parents were seated, waiting at the little table where we had most of our meals. I had just closed the door behind me when a knock made me turn back. I smiled, thinking it might be Marcus coming back to talk to me. It wasn't him. I was disappointed. It was a currier with the stack of calling cards from the market… In one neat pile in a box. "Qadir Ahmed sends these with his compliments to your father."
He handed me another letter… No, it was an invitation… An expensive-looking light brown envelope sealed with a wax mark. I held it close to inspect it, thanked the staring post boy, and closed the door. What was it with men and makeup? I dash a little bit on and let my hair loose; it's as if they've never seen a woman before. My parents also stared at me as I sat down. I put the box in front of my mom and the letter in front of my dad.
"What possessed you to do that, Julie?" His tone was firm, and I swallowed loudly. He might have slapped me if I had told him I was looking for a husband or that I wanted my life to start… if it wasn't today, I would just die. My father had never raised his hand at me, but I had a feeling that day could be the day; Marcus had already been so close. "I asked you a question…." I still couldn't open my mouth to give him an answer. "You will have to marry Marcus, Juliet."
The words didn't sink in. I wondered how we got from me going out and being rebellious to marrying Marcus as punishment. "I don't want to go into that house. I have no ambition to be a housewife who serves her politician husband." It sounded logical; I was hoping my dad would think I wasn't just talking. "Marcus seems to love me, and I… feel the same. But this place holds me back from any proper feelings. It's restricting and confining, and it feels like I can't breathe… I want to get out of here." My dad sighed and met my mom's gaze across the table, "Can't we leave?" My mother was wringing her hands.
"How many times must we tell you we can't leave."
"Then I do not understand what the problem is?" My father took a deep breath and opened the letter in front of him.
"The problem Juliet… Is that if it's not Marcus, then it's going to be someone else. But you probably knew this before you went out."
"When?" My mom asked.
"Tonight."
"You will soon see what we mean. There is no point in me scaring you." He got up and left, slamming their room door and throwing something against the wall.
"Come, Juliet, we have two hours to get ready."
My mom proceeded to scrub me in a tub and did my makeup; that alone took an hour. She then carefully clad me in something I had never seen before. She put jewelry on my head, my ears, my hands, and around my neck; there was so much I felt like a Christmas tree. Standing in front of the mirror, my mother turned me around to look at me. I gasped at the picture I painted; the red of the dress complimented my eyes. My stomach was exposed, and the off-shoulder crop top was made of very stiff material embroidered with a beautiful golden pattern. That night, my breasts would not be wrapped to support my breast like a bra would; it didn't matter, the piece of cloth might as well have been one. It pushed all the flesh up, making the little cleavage I had bulge. "Mom, I don't want to wear this."
"I thought you wanted to go out in the world. This is how they dress. Don't they…?"
"Not like this. This is like a creation in itself… It's like a wedding dress."
"You have no choice," my mother's responses were clipped. She didn't look at me and said, "You don't want to marry Marcus. You must have known your actions would bring about other men. Unfortunately, you will learn the hard way—Marcus is the only man here like him. There is not a pool you can dip your finger in and choose from… The compound is not a democracy. So tonight, you will taste the truth… Women are lower than scum, and your father had indulged you. Heaven knows why if he knew you would never leave. Maybe he thought you would grow up," she spat out the words. My mom had never talked to me like that. "But, it's evident now that you never will unless you get slapped around," tears pooled in her eyes as her tone softened, "And there would be nothing I can do for you."
I was angry and indignant. Not once did she say anything. Never gave me understanding. Five minutes before my whole life changed, she wanted to advise me. "Bad parenting."
She scoffed, "You will soon learn women have no say in parenting their children. Your sons may slap you… spit on you, and that is how it is."
She turned me once more to take a good look at me in the mirror. The red skirt wrapped my soft skin and rested on my hips, exposing my navel. It all fitted like a glove. "Why do I even have a dress like this?"
"For tonight… For some reason, I knew you would need it this year. So, I made it."
My father came into the room dressed in a black tux. I put my leg out of the slit. Mom bent down to put more jewelry on my ankle. It jingled as I walked. The look on my father's face had not changed since I had come inside that afternoon. He came towards me and held out his arm. I took it. The front door was open. We walked around the corner. Marcus was already waiting and turned around. He did the same thing as that day when he saw my face for the first time. My father laughed at him. How could he laugh at a moment like this?
I didn't know if I was allowed to, but I smiled so brightly at Marcus that his hand flung to his mouth. The reaction felt flattering. Even if tonight would be the worst night of my life, the look on his face was enough. Although he would not be taking me home… I felt regret and fear walking up to the car. Marcus just stood there staring at me… Marcus and my dad's eyes met for a moment. The one was challenging the other. "You did this deliberately," Marcus said.
"No… She did this all by herself, but I will not leave her… will you?"
"Never…" It was all Marcus had to say. My father relaxed a little more.
He turned to me, "There is one rule for tonight." I looked up at him, licking my lips and biting my lower lip. "Two rules… You are not allowed to do that. Not once. That is a very sexual thing to do." He looked at Marcus. "This is all your fault. You did this." Marcus's jaw clenched in response. "She would not even have to go through this if you would man up."
Marcus shook his head.
"Dad, focus! One rule."
"Do not say one word…." He held my shoulders, "Juliet, it is imperative! No… life or death that you do not say… ONE word! Not even if you feel you have fifty opinions about anything… Not the food, the people, the tedium, anything! No matter where they place you in the room… This is very important… Especially not then." He narrowed his eyes, "How can I drive this home—"
"You don't have to. I know what happens to women who talk too much." My chin shook, and I pressed my lips together, thinking about being hit again or something worse happening to me.
"Everything is okay…." He patted my shoulder, "Don't cry. Your makeup will smudge, and then we will be late… It's one thing. You don't have to think about anything besides not speaking, okay… All you do is bow your head and ignore every… one who comes and talks to you. Marcus will be on your right, and I will be on your left."
"Daddy, I'm scared. I don't want to go."
My dad's head fell in front of me, gripping my shoulders even tighter, "It's okay, Julie. I'm too." The both of us looked at Marcus, "Ready?" Marcus shook his head—the man had nothing to say.
My dad handed me into the car and got in next to me. Marcus got in on my other side. He glanced down when he felt my hand in his. The last time he wanted to take my hand, I couldn't. That night, I had no choice. I needed him, and it felt different. I absorbed every part of him and wanted to thread my fingers through his—so I did. He drew in a breath as our eyes met. Since I walked out the door… Marcus's eyes had been lustful. It is the only word I could describe it as. With him looking down at me… I understood that he wasn't just in love with me. It was deeply and desperately… obsessively even. I blushed as I thought about kissing him. He bit his balled-up fist, staring out the window.
I looked at my dad, who could only pat my hand… Marcus cleared his throat. I looked up, seeing Kubra's eyes dart from me in the rearview mirror back to the road.
The whole night would be like that. Just a million times worse.
***
Marcus
Liam had to know I loved Juliet with all my heart. We both wanted the best for her. I just wanted her with me… And then I would give her the best. There was a day in the past when the understanding grew firmer between Liam and me. It was the first day I came over to their house. She spoke to me, and I answered her back without thinking or worrying. She just kept talking and talking. Like a fool, I just nodded at her… I knew Juliet was unique, vivacious, and lively even without seeing her face. And I guess Liam saw something in me. I just wished we could've convinced her to marry me. In the car, driving to the venue… I had known Juliet for a long time, and seeing her come out of the house dressed as beautifully as she was—it was brutal. My heart beat faster every time I thought about her so close to me. She was holding my hand. My body wanted to react to her sitting next to me. I craved to make her mine. Keep her. Wait for her to be old enough so I could claim her.
The following two hours put a screwdriver in my plans. I always believed in providence. I just wished she had waited a little bit longer… only a few more years.
We drove up to the grand hall entrance. A red carpet was laid out— photographers everywhere. Juliet frowned and wanted to say something; I quickly squeezed her tiny hand. She kept quiet. Liam got out first. He walked around the car, waiting for me to open the door. I was hesitating; too many variables were rushing around in my head. She had no idea what would happen or what she had set in motion; too eager to get on with things—no patience. I had a bad feeling twisting my gut. After a moment, Liam opened the door, and I moved past him. He bent down and held out his hand—Juliet took it. Bare feet, she walked down the carpet with a man on either side. Words were flung at her like a specimen, extraordinarily beautiful, lustful, and too thin—not enough bust. I had to do all I could not to challenge all of them and fight for her, but I would eventually go up against Lucius. I didn't know how Juliet kept quiet. I saw her lip quivering a few times. Liam pushed a drink into her hand somewhere during the night, "One sip every five minutes or when you feel like talking. And don't talk because you're drunk."
My own test came quickly when Lucius himself came strutting up. Juliet swallowed loudly as she took in the enormity of the man. He wasn't bad-looking or even had cruel eyes or an evil countenance, but he already had four wives, all of whom were much older than Juliet. Lucius was already a hundred or something, and he was bored with no purpose but the money his Father could spend. Juliet took two sips when Lucius took her hand in his and kissed it. He wanted to turn her wrist around; a low growl from Liam stopped him. Lucius sighed and looked up at me, "There a reason you're clinging to this sweet little thing," he kept hovering over her, testing her resolve.
"Why do you think?"
"Does he have some claim on you, sweetie?" Juliet made the mistake of looking up through her eyelashes at Lucius. The moan that originated from him made my blood boil. Unfortunately, she licked her lips right after she drank the last sip of her champagne. His mouth fell open. It would be everyone's reaction to her in the future. She was just… that available. I could imagine Juliet saying something like, 'Who the hell is your sweetie?' and punching him in the face. I laughed nervously for too many reasons and said, "I do have first rights over her."
"Body or soul?" Juliet's head jerked up. He had gotten the information he needed, and the hook was planted. Lucius liked a challenge. He wanted to know how lively Juliet was. If she was complacent or feisty. Lucius might not look evil, but down to the core, he needed to break someone to feel in control.
"Body and soul!" I spat. Juliet turned an incredulously look at me. She opened her mouth, but it must have been the desperation in my eyes that made her turn away from him. He took it as an insult and the challenge he craved, "You can't turn your back on me, little girl."
"Wait your turn, Lucius… There are procedures for things like this. She is not yours yet," Liam said in a low tone.
When he left, I turned to her, gripping her arms roughly in mine, "Don't turn away from anyone again. Bow your head and keep quiet. If you don't want to get beaten… behave yourself." She gave me a stare I can only describe as the 'death stare.' If she had a knife, she would've stabbed me—repeatedly. Liam also turned on her and said, "You better listen to him, Juliet. Neither of us can help you here. You have to help yourself. You want to grow up. This is it."
Her shoulders shook as she held back the tears; it was getting too much. It had been hours of groping old men and fat sons with indignant fathers staring down their noses at her, saying how they had wasted their time on her. As if they were trying to play Liam and me for a fool. With the worst luck on my side, my father chose that exact moment to appear out of nowhere as if he was waiting and watching Juliet's every reaction, calculating when she was worn down to the bone. "Liam." They shook hands. He glanced at me and acknowledged me with a nod.
After that day at our house, when Juliet gave such a disappointing performance in his eyes, he had gone off at me for hours. So, I stayed away for months. It resulted in Juliet going off the rails. I was her friend… and I left her because I was a coward. He concluded she fit better in a lower-down household where she would not be seen or heard. He had political plans for me and being a general in his army… He needed me controlled by him and not her.
Deliberately Qadir took in Juliet from her feet to her face, "I see why you're so pent up for her. She is a looker. But she will make for an awful wife. Especially a first one. They should be a little more pliable. This one will need a lot of management… When she is in my house, she can be subdued by any means necessary." He smirked, seeing the visible strain around her mouth. "Liam… Most people here didn't even know you had a daughter until she went to the market today. Don't you regret not staying at home, deary?" She was a stupid girl but not dumb. She was naïve but not ignorant like him. He was taunting her.
***
Juliet
There was no man on earth who I hated more than the one provoking me. It took me hours to realize what was going on. Qadir was going to get rid of me by goading me to react. I knew he was trying to get me to say something wrong or do something so he could punish me in front of everyone. I didn't know what it would do… but out of instinct, I took Marcus's hand. Everyone saw it. Everybody was waiting for me to create a scandal. I didn't know why. They whispered and murmured. The pull around Qadir's mouth made me smirk. He was infuriated—eyes black and grey, back and forth. Marcus looked down at our hands and gripped me so tight. I was glad I didn't do something wrong. I breathed easier. I wasn't allowed to talk, but I knew the worst outcome for Qadir would be for me to join Marcus. It would cause him endless issues with his son.
After Qadir composed himself, he turned and clapped his hands together. The men took their seats, and I was ushered to a pedestal in the middle of the hall. I climbed on and stood there like a horse up for sale; I had reached a crushingly low point in my life. My mother was right about everything. My father could do nothing but watch it play out. Marcus could do nothing… In that place, I would never be free or live the life I wanted. Have any kind of life, no matter what house I ended up in.
Chairs surrounded me with a sea of men drooling. The alcohol had made me dizzy, but all I had to do was keep quiet, right? A bidding war started. A money war for me. The board was electronic, and hands kept going into the air without issues. Marcus was not bidding—he couldn't. Only the fathers were allowed; they had the final say. Marcus tried talking to Qadir. "It will not help Marcus," I wanted to say. Your father and I are set to avoid each other for the rest of our lives. And I thanked my own stubbornness for once. I had pushed him, and it had worked. I thought about all the names I could place with faces on the board. In the end, it was a large sum going to Lucius, who also didn't do the bidding himself. His father had not wavered, giving his son all he wanted. It was a stupid process. I didn't understand why they needed to go this far or where the money went. It was all just for bragging rights.
After the final bid, it was over quickly. Faltering and stumbling down the podium, my dad gathered me in his arms. Marcus took me from him, but it was a mistake. Lucius strutted over angrily and made him drop me. He pulled me out the front door… down the red carpet. I thought he would take me, but he pushed me into the car Kubra was driving. My dad got in with me. But not Marcus. He stood staring at me. When I denied him my hand in marriage, I never thought the outcome would feel like that. I had not chosen love, friendship, or sacrifice. Didn't I say I would rather slit my wrists and jump down a mountain? The thought didn't seem so bad. Lucius or death. Being beaten and raped vs. dying. Sleeping with Marcus wouldn't have been bad, but what if I ended up alone in a room with his father. I shook my head. I shook my shoulders. There was no way in hell. My father watched me intently.
When we reached the house, I got out of the car, stumbled to my room, slammed the door, and locked it. I had not spoken. Did it mean I would get a prize?
I didn't come out of my room for three days. Lucius called many times, wanting to see me. He brought all manner of things to the house. A date was set for the ceremony. I only listened at the door and heard raised voices between my parents… They rarely fought; when they did, it was some remarks and then nothing. For three days, they were yelling and crying… trying to plan anything. All I heard was… 'We could run… take the consequences.' 'Try and hide.' My mom knocked on my door a few times to try and get me to come out. I wanted my life to start. I wanted to grow up. I wanted to go somewhere. The reality was—I had no life. I meant nothing. There was only one thing for women in that place… I sure was going to go somewhere, but not to Lucius's house. I made my decision. Suicide was my best bet. I had one day to get it done. One morning. Or else it would be Lucius and me, and if he had me alone, I would never have gotten out of there.