Murderville (16 page)

She listened closely, spying because while she lived under the same roof as him, she barely knew him. Although he never intentionally mistreated her, something didn’t feel right when she was in his presence. It was the way he looked at her that intimidated her. He was hiding something, and she needed to know more.

“This one is working out much better than the last,” she heard him say. “She is adjusting much quicker. It shouldn’t be long before she gives me a son.”

Her eyes widened, and she gasped knowing that he was speaking of her. A child was not in the cards for her. She would never bring one into the world with a man who didn’t love her. To Samad, Liberty was a prized possession . . . a trophy . . . a human souvenir for all to admire. A baby had not been a part of her plan.

“Ahem!”

She heard the sound of someone clearing their throat and she turned around to find one of Samad’s servants standing behind her with a kettle of hot tea on a serving platter.

Liberty quickly lowered her head and rushed back down the hall as the woman gave her a stern look. She hurried to the master bedroom and sighed as she closed the door, leaning against it for support. Hearing Samad express his intentions for her made her see things more clearly. Liberty had thought that Samad was insatiable in the bedroom. As often as he bedded her, she could barely keep up . . . but now she knew why he was so persistent with his lovemaking. He was trying to get her pregnant and that was something that she refused to allow. He owned her, but she refused to birth a child for him. She may have been his property, but no child of hers ever would be.

The next day Liberty awakened to breakfast in bed. She sat up and stretched her arms as Samad placed the wooden tray across her lap. He kissed her on the top of her head, and she gave him a weak smile.

“I have some associates coming over this evening to watch the big game. You feel like entertaining tonight and being my rising star?” he asked.

If Samad actually allowed Liberty to be herself, she wouldn’t mind being with him, but the rules he established for his woman were too strict for her. She always felt like a scolded child when he was around. He intimidated her greatly but she nodded her head anyway knowing that she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Samad was a wagering man and an avid gambler. He didn’t have many friends . . . only business relationships, so she knew that the evening to come was important to him.

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” she said.

Hours later she stood at his side in her burqa as he introduced her to his guests. She hadn’t known that it would be a couple’s event and as she admired the gorgeous attire of the other women in the room she instantly felt as if she would suffocate in her Muslim gear. She never understood how Samad expected her to be arm candy when no one besides him even knew what she looked like. She felt uncomfortable and unattractive as she watched the other women socialize with one another, while leaving her out. She didn’t blame them. She would have done the same thing. Liberty couldn’t respect her attire when she knew nothing about its origin. It wasn’t her religion. She did not embrace it . . . Samad had forced his beliefs upon her. How did he expect her to be a trophy wife if she couldn’t flaunt what she had or the things that he had given her? Liberty sat down next to Samad and listened in on the conversation. Samad grabbed the remote control and flipped on the national news.

“This man,” Samad commented as he nodded his head towards the TV screen where the president was making a speech. “He is too nice. He’ll never be re-elected if he continues to give out all of these handouts. He sympathizes with the peasants,” Samad said as he sipped his red wine. Liberty looked around the room at Samad’s associates who all seemed to agree with him. She had been given strict instructions to only speak if directly spoken to, so she kept her two cents to herself. She found it funny that these spoiled heads of society would speak about something that they knew nothing about. They came from money. They had never experienced life at the bottom . . . all they knew was the bird’s eye view from the top.

“At the end of the day, he’s still one of them,” one of the women said. Liberty couldn’t help but to shake her head and chuckle slightly.
So this is what they talk about when we are not around,
she thought in disbelief as they spoke candidly as if her skin wasn’t black.

“You disagree?” one of the men asked her.

Liberty looked at him and then glanced at Samad nervously before she spoke up. “I do actually. I don’t think that people should speak about things that they have not experienced. You have no idea what it is like to scrape and fight for everything that you have. The people put our president into office . . . they need him. He is their voice. He doesn’t spite the little people in order to please people with opinions like yours,” Liberty said in a low tone.

There was a long silence in the room until Samad’s associate raised his glass at her and nodded his head. “Very well said,” he complimented. “Samad, it’s about time you have a lady with something to say.”

Samad raised his glass and replied, “I told you she’s something special.”

One of the wives waved her hand in dismissal. “Nobody cares about his politics. As long as he keeps looking like that, he will have my vote forever,” she said with a laugh.

Liberty laughed slightly and replied, “I’m with you.”

“Oh is that how he got elected?!” Samad’s associate said slyly.

Liberty’s eyes went to the TV screen as she took in the president’s appearance.

“He definitely has an aura about himself that is attractive,” she whispered to herself. She looked up and noticed Samad watching her closely. There was something cold about his stare, and she turned away quickly as she refocused on his friends.

The dinner lasted well into the night and when the last car finally pulled off the estate Samad turned to her. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.

“It was interesting,” she answered. He removed the Muslim garb from her head, exposing her striking face.

“I will never give you to another, Liberty. You are the only woman I see. I need to be the only man that you see,” he said. He stroked her cheek before walking away leaving her standing in the foyer, wondering what he meant.

The next morning Liberty awoke to her normal breakfast in bed. She performed the same ritual every morning. Samad ensured that her every need was met. She took a few bites of her food and then made her way inside the plush bathroom where she normally watched her judge shows while soaking in the tub. Her water had already been run and she immersed herself as she reached for the remote control that controlled every feature in the room. Dimming the lights and closing the shades with just a click of a button, she set the atmosphere for relaxation. As she hit the button that caused a flat screen to flip out of the wall, she frowned when nothing occurred. She hit the button once more and again, nothing happened.

“Did he take the TV out?” she asked aloud as she quickly washed her body before getting out. She walked back into their bedroom and opened the entertainment center only to find that television was missing too. “What the fuck?” she said in irritation.

She stalked from room to room searching for televisions until she realized that every single one had been removed from the premises.

“Samad!” she called out as she entered the living room where he was sitting calmly, sipping a cup of coffee with his feet kicked up in his leather recliner.

“Good morning,” he responded.

“What’s good about it?” she shot back. “Where are all of the televisions?”

“I told you I need to be the only man that you see,” he responded. “You take too much interest in the men you see on that thing.”

“Is this about last night?” she exclaimed. She couldn’t believe that Samad was being so irrational. She had known that he was possessive but this was crossing the line. He was trying to cut her off from the world.

“I will be the only man that you see,” he repeated, this time more sternly, never looking up at her as he picked up the morning newspaper.

Tears accumulated in her eyes and she felt powerless. He had a way of making her feel cheap despite the excessive amount he had spent on her. He dominated her and controlled her every action.

“Go upstairs. I’ll be up in a moment. You’re ovulating,” he said.

Liberty’s nostrils flared slightly in pure rage. She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but restrained herself knowing that she would only be making things worse. The longer she dwelled beneath his roof, the more she learned what type of man Samad really was. She turned around and retreated to their bedroom as her tears began to flow. When he joined her in the bed, her skin crawled. When he touched her, she cringed in disgust. She felt like an abused child, helpless and defenseless. She shut her eyes tightly as he began to kiss her. He was so delicate in the way that he handled her that her growing fear towards him almost seemed unwarranted. She was his obsession, and she could see the signs of his fixation with her. He was no ordinary man. His attraction to her was no longer flattering, he wanted her too much. Even the smell of him was starting to make her sick.
He wants to control me, but there is one thing that I won’t ever let him control. I’ll never give him the child he wants. I’m going to make sure of it,
she thought bitterly as he entered her. He wore no protection and Liberty swore to herself that it was the last time she would ever allow him inside of her without taking precautions. She just had to think of a way to do it undetected.

Liberty lay in bed moaning in pain as chills plagued her body. She felt sick to her stomach and as she inhaled deeply she closed her eyes in an attempt to relieve her discomfort. Samad walked into the room and went to her bedside.

“You’ve been in bed all day. Is everything okay?” he asked.

“I’m hot . . . everything’s blurry. I don’t feel good,” she whispered as she rolled on her back in agony.

He noticed that the color had drained from her face. She looked pale and he felt her clammy skin. A light sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.

“You need a doctor,” he concluded. “I’ll send someone in to help you dress. The driver will be waiting for you out front.”

He reached down and touched her stomach. “This could be the day. Maybe you are carrying precious cargo. You could be pregnant with my child,” he said. He bent over her and kissed her head before walking out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, Liberty sat up in bed and kicked the covers off herself as she rushed to dress. She threw on one of her burqas, not even caring at this point what she was putting on. She just wanted to get out of the house and from underneath Samad’s thumb. She was sick alright, sick of him and his rules . . . sick of his lifestyle . . . sick and tired of being controlled. She hurried and dressed then weakly walked down the stairs where Samad was waiting for her.

“I would come with you but I have an important conference call,” he said. “Do you mind going alone?”

Samad wasn’t the only one who had eyes . . . she had been watching him as well and had learned his routine. Liberty already knew about the conference call. In fact, it was the exact reason that she had gotten ‘sick’ on that day. She was counting on him not being able to tag along.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I probably have a virus or something,” she said.

“You call me if it’s something more serious or if there is something to celebrate,” he instructed.

“Of course,” she replied.

As she walked out of the house she could feel his eyes following her. They burned a hole through her back but she never turned around. Instead she got into the black Cadillac Escalade and melted into the backseat as the driver pulled out of the gates. When Liberty was out of Samad’s view she turned around and sighed in relief. She felt as if she had escaped from prison. Everything in her wanted to run . . . to shake the driver and leave for good, but she had nowhere to go. No friends . . . no family . . . no plan. She was stuck, but as the city streets passed her by she enjoyed the time away from Samad, no matter how short lived.

Liberty walked into the doctor’s office where she waited nervously. Samad’s money was too long to keep secrets. She knew that the doctor she was about to visit was on his payroll but this was her only hope. Liberty desperately needed the doctor’s help and hoped to appeal to Dr. Kapoor woman-to-woman. Her foot bounced off the ground as her nerves got the best of her and when her name was finally called Liberty stood slowly, feeling faint.

“Hello, Liberty. Samad called me. He said you aren’t feeling well,” Dr. Kapoor said as she washed her hands and then put on a pair of latex gloves.

“I feel okay now . . . I . . . I’m here because I need your help,” Liberty stated as tears accumulated in her eyes. She began to hyperventilate as she leaned over and grabbed the examining table. She was besieged with stress, and this was too much for her to take. Abia hadn’t schooled her on this part of the game. She snatched the Muslim attire off. “I can’t breathe in this shit,” she whispered in disgust and impatience as she tossed it on the floor in frustration. She breathed in . . . breathed out . . . inhaled . . . exhaled as if she had been deprived of oxygen. Dr. Kapoor turned around and froze when she looked at Liberty. She could see the desperation in her eyes and as she looked at the young girl she could sense Liberty’s entrapment. She knew that Liberty was Samad’s paid-for-hostage, and she turned a blind eye to the situation because Samad paid her royally, but as Liberty stood before her, guilt began to eat away at the doctor. She remembered the oppression that she had come from, growing up in India. Liberty’s circumstance was much different but still all the same. Samad was oppressing her and when Liberty broke down in her examining room, Dr. Kapoor had to fight back her own emotions.

“I need your help . . . I know that he pays you, but you are the only person who can help me,” Liberty sobbed as she fell into the doctor’s arms. Uncomfortable and in an awkward position, Dr. Kapoor hugged Liberty reluctantly. She wanted to help but also did not want to lose the independence that she had earned by making connections with men like Samad. He had the power to shut down her entire practice if he ever found out that she had helped Liberty. Her conscience tugged at her heart because Liberty was so young. She had seen more than the average woman would see in her entire life. Liberty had lived through more struggles than the privileged children of America would ever be burdened with.