Royalty Gone Bad

Chapter 9: 9. Poor Asahd

Writer’s POV:

After thorough cleaning of the apartment, till it looked great, father and daughter left the apartment to

go buy necessities.

“We need a vacuum cleaner. The carpet and chairs aren’t completely clean,” Saïda told her father.

“Right. Add that on the list.”

“Okay. What about clothes for Asahd? We were supposed to go with him.”

“I watched him grow. I know his size in clothes and shore. And all he’s getting is t-shirts, jeans -ripped-

and normal, shorts, jerseys, sweats and sneakers, sneakers, sneakers. No expensive leather shoe or

whatsoever.”

“Oh my,” Saïda giggled. “I get to buy my own clothes, right?”

“Yes and I’ll do same. I don’t really know what I need but I’ll ask the shopkeepers.”

“Okay, father.”

Djafar stopped and turned to his daughter.

“And darling, you’ll have to stop calling me, father.”

“Oh, right. Dad,” she mused.

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Will Asahd return? It’s been two hours.”

“He will. He has absolutely no where to go to.”

“Does he know this address?”

“I think he will. It is clearly written on the outside of the door, and the inside. Even if he didn’t mean to

look at it, I think he’ll remember.”

“Hmm, okay. Hopefully. We have to buy new sim cards to stay in contact. Asahd bought one at the

airport, after we’d arrived.”

“Really? How did the sultan call him, then?”

“I think he biped the palace phone. It has this thing that enables you to recall the person from whom

you missed the call. Like every other office phone, today, does. I bet you don’t know about voicemail,”

she mused, trying not to mock her father.

“I’m not that primitive,” he rolled his eyes. “But I admit, I’m very old school.”

“Facts,” Saïda finally laughed. “They surely guessed it was him and called back when we left the

airport. Or, he biped the Sultan’s personal phone. Either ways.”

“That was wise.”

“We’ll get you a phone. A smart phone,” Saïda laughed. Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Djafar had never bothered to get himself a phone. Never. He was always in the palace and if someone

had to talk to him, it was through an office phone in his room. He didn’t want to evaluate. He didn’t even

care about new technology like every other person around him. He was the only person in that palace,

that had probably never used a smart phone.

Even the sultan and Queen had personal phones and numbers which they gave to family members or

really close friends.

However, no personnel of the palace, had the right to have a online account to whatever popular site.

What happened in the palace, had to remain in. No one wanted people filming and posting pictures and

things about the palace. They could do everything else, but create accounts. Of course some people, a

lot, had accounts, but under anonymous usernames. No photos. Nothing. Try, and you were fired.

***

Djafar and Saïda returned from the mall, Asahd wasn’t back. It was past 6pm.

“Dad-” Saïda started, a little worried, but her father cut her.

“Asahd will come back.”

***

Asahd’s POV:

I stared at the ground, the lump in my throat, unshakable. There I was, sitting on a bench in a park I

found close by. My clothes were now twisted and my perfect hair, scattered, because I’d pulled on both

earlier, when I had to let all that rage out.

′How can this be happening? Asahd you are fucked up. I’m so finished. It’s for real!′

I put my face in my palms, unable to fight the urge to cry. And I did. I shed tears for a long while and

took my phone out. Since I’d picked it up, I’d not tried to put it on.

Crossing my heart, I tried and when it came on, I almost skipped. I tried manipulating and was glad that

no function was acting funny.

′A Prince like me, now stuck with a cracked phone.′

I shut my eyes at the annoying thought. But then decided to think positive. I needed positive at that

moment.

′Cracked phone. Way better than none.′

I opened my eyes, feeling slightly better. It was already past 7PM. The park was empty. I was going to

leave when I noticed a strange guy with a hoodie, coming my direction. My reflex was quick!

I threw my phone and wallet in nearby bushes.

I was going to act like I’d not seen him, but as expected and dreaded, he approached me and before I

could react, he had a gun pointed at my face. He had a mask and gloves.

“Your wallet! Now!” he growled.

“I don’t have any. It was stolen.”

The fear that took over me was undescribable.

“You trying to fool me?!” he growled and I almost peed on myself.

“Ch- check me! Please! I’m not lying! That’s why I’m stuck here!”

The robber laughed a little, clearly mocking me.

“Your accent. Asian, Arab or purely Arab? You’re definitely new here.”

“Arab. I’m from Morocco,” I stammered, beginning to sweat.

“Pretty boy wanted to visit New York. Well, welcome to New York!” he laughed, his gun still pointing at

my forehead. I thought I would pass out. I couldn’t breathe straight!

“P- please.”

“Stand!” he growled and I jumped off that bench. Literally.

“Yallah.” I muttered in great fear.

′Allah help me, please.′

I shut my eyes tight, my hands up. I never prayed, but there I was. A good coward. He searched me

and after realising I was empty, he spoke:

“You’re telling the truth, huh? Turn.”

Trembling, I turned.

“Please.”

“That’s an expensive watch, looks gold. Bet it is. Those shoes too look expensive. Everything on you

does.”

I swallowed, sure I would collapse at any moment.

“Take them off,” he ordered.

“What-”

“Everything! The coat, shirt, shoes, watch, trousers! Want more details, bitch? Everything!”

′Bad luck. Karma.′

I did not want to die! I removed everything and gave him.

“You’re lucky I’m leaving you with that singlet and your socks. And you’re even more lucky that you’re

wearing boxers and not man-panties, AHA!” he mocked and immediately ran off. “Welcome to New

York!” he added and disappeared.

“What is this!!” I cried out, pulling my hair.

All this was happening to me. Why??

There I was, in a white singlet, black ankle socks and black boxers. Nothing more. The only chic

clothes I had, gone!

′Think positive.′

I inhaled deeply and looked at myself.

“At least the boxers are up to my mid thighs and the singlet is long enough to cover the necessary,” I

closed my eyes and tried to breathe.

′You’ll be okay.′

Nope. I opened my eyes immediately and went crazy. Killing the air, pulling on my hair and cussing like

crazy!! I was a mad man at that moment.

“I’M NOT OKAY! I’LL NEVER BE!”

“HEY!” someone yelled and I turned to see the park’s security guard with a torchlight, approaching me.

“WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I GOT ROBBED! PIECE OF SHIT!” I replied and rushed to get my phone

and wallet which I found. Luckily.

“Don’t move! I’m calling the police!” he started running towards me and my heart sank. I took off

immediately.

Luckily for me, I was a good runner and had won a lot of prizes for running track back in highschool. On

top of that, the guard was fat. Like very fat.

“Try to catch me! Dumbass!”

I ran like crazy. I ran till I couldn’t hear or see him behind me, though his torchlight still reflected at a

distance and was approaching me. He was still trying to run after me. Tough luck.

-

I got to the gate which was locked. Oh, I climbed over it like it was nothing, surprising myself. Before I

could realise it, I was on the other side. I had never climbed anything! I had never had reason to!! I

surprised myself because it was a really tall gate. Yet, I climbed over it like some skilled robber. The

power of fear.

-

I ran down the block and into a public street. I didn’t stop. People watched me in wonder and

amusement. I ran up to a cab and without thinking, I got in.

“Where to?” the driver asked without even looking at me.

′I don’t even know! I am done!′

“I- I don’t know,” I stuttered and he turned to me. We recognised each other.

It was the man who’d driven to a bank, earlier that afternoon. The joy. I’d not recognised him because

he was now wearing a hat.

“You again?” he frowned and then noticed my dressing. He laughed. “Got robbed? What did you expect

with your gold watch and whatsoever.”

“Please,” I begged with my palms together. “Take me back to where you picked me this morning. I’m

begging you,” I said breathlessly, tired from the running.

I’d never really begged someone. I always bought them with money. But there I was no one. I was

nothing.

“I don’t care if you were robbed. If you don’t have money on you, step out.”

“I have enough to pay you. It’s all I’m left with. But I’ll pay you.”

“Okay.”

He started the car and drove off. The worse day and night in my life!

~~~~~~