Chapter 7

Journal Entry 3: Saturday

My Prince.

I did not fault him for my rough treatment at upon our initial meeting. Bound, gagged and blindfolder upon entering the helicopter with his thought lost son. I was a nobody to him. How was he to know if I was trustworthy or not.

I was gently taken to a cell, before someone removed my bindings from my hands and feet. Upon removing my blindfold, I found myself in a solid concrete room. A simple cot, sink, toilet closet and shower. Across the bed were some fresh garments and a note.

Translated, the note said, clean yourself and be ready to meet with the Prince in an hour.

A shower was something that I had not had in a very long time. I cannot begin to imagine just how nasty I must have looked or smelled at that time.

If it was to be my last, I made the shower count.

I had just finished dressing and putting on the traditional hijab when a knock at the door came. Soon followed by hearing the locks released, the door opening inward with 2 armed guards.

“Follow us.” Is all that was said.

One guard led, I followed, the other guard in the rear.

I was soon led into, what I later learned was the “Answer room.” One way or another, answers to questions were obtained.

There I was hooked up to a polygraph machine and given an injection that burned.

After several minutes, someone entered and began to ask me a series of questions. I later learned to establish my baseline for the polygraph.

Only after all of that was done, did the Prince enter. He sat down to the side of the polygraph tech with his group of guards. Immediately, my hijab was pulled from my face.

“I want to be able to look into your eyes and see your face as I ask my questions” my Prince said.

From there, all manner of questions was asked. I know the Prince was not happy with my lack of memory of my childhood and raising. The tech told him multiple times that I was not lying to him.

Throughout it all, I believe it was my heartfelt response of telling him, that I know not who he is, what he does or why those individuals were attacking him. All that mattered to me was the safety and health of his young son and keeping him out of harms way. That I would have done and did do everything in my power to do so, including taking a medical professional hostage to treat his wounds.

I am sure, my story matched up with the answers he got from his son.

“Did you do it in the hopes of a reward?” I remember the Prince asking me near the end.

A reward? I remember that question caused me some issues.

I told the Prince, “Thoughts of a reward was never my motivation. Protecting one so young, was my only thoughts, and returning him back to a family. A family that hopefully loves him more than mine did me, tossing me away like garbage.”