and now this?”
I couldn’t take it, I wanted to tell him, I wanted him to understand. I couldn’t stand the fact that he would think I was like that for nothing: I had my reasons. I wanted to tell him…but, the words wouldn’t come out. They just wouldn’t.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I said with a shaky voice.
“And I did tell you I wanted us to get to know each other, but you didn’t want anything to do with me, of course–because I’m an Arab Muslim.”
A battle was happening inside my head. I wanted to tell him everything, I wanted to explain myself; I hated being judged so much. He didn’t know the truth, or why I was like that towards him and his people…or race, for that matter. But I’d never talked about those things. Only a handful of people knew of my story, and I didn’t know if it was a good idea to share such a thing with him.
“You were away from the palace for only half an hour before you were brought back. Only half an hour. Do you realize what that means? It didn’t work. For one reason or another, it didn’t work,” he said. “It would’ve never worked unless I was involved in it. I would’ve made your departure successful and safe! Had you told me you weren’t okay with staying here for those six months, I would’ve found a way out. I would’ve still found a way to save my sister, one that didn’t involve you. I would’ve come up with something. I’ve done it before, and I would’ve done it again,” he paused, “But you lied to me, making it even more difficult to try and cover it up.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks; the pain in his voice all the while he was speaking wasn’t lost on me. The silence lingered, and the tension that was surrounding us grew thicker, and when I heard his frustrated and impatient huff, I just had to tell him. Everything.
“My parents–God rest their souls–were very busy people,” I started, trying really hard to control the shaking in my voice. “They barely ever had any time for me or my brother, but when they did, they made it the best: always making up for the time they spent away, always doing their best to let us know that they were busy like that only for our sakes, to provide us with everything we might ever want and more–and we got used to it. We accepted it.” I knew that the prince was probably wondering why I was telling him that, but he didn’t say anything, he just let me talk, and talk I did.
“When they were away, they didn’t leave us to be raised by a nanny, they left us with our grandparents, my mother’s parents. They were loving and caring more than I could ever describe. I loved my parents dearly, but I loved my grandparents even more, way more.” I sighed. “Joseph was always a huge bother for them: pranks, tricks, troubles, you name it. My parents had to send him off to a private school, leaving me alone with my grandparents since I was only five years old, and I think their love for me was doubled after that day. After all, I got all of their attention.
“My grandmother was my life, and my grandfather was my soul. Though he was working, he always made sure to drive me to school every single morning. When he would stay all night at his office until morning or when he would go in earlier than usual to work, he would have his driver take me to his work place, and then he would take it from there and still drive me to school himself.” I swallowed thickly, my heart thumping hard in my chest, the worst memory of my life nearing my head, and the feel of an approaching panic attack threatening to consume me.
“One day–a day I’ve been calling The Black Day since I lived it–he had to go in early, and the driver took me there, near the building where we usually waited for my grandfather to come and take me. My first class started at nine o’clock; we were very late and I was annoyed by that fact, but I knew that my grandfather would somehow drive me in on time. The driver left the car, but I could see him as he took a few steps away from it, leaned on