Captured splendor
My first week in Turkey has been an ordeal of epic proportions. My agency deceived me with the promise of social work, only to thrust me into the chaotic role of a nanny in a bewildering household. If there's one thing my employer excels at, it's yelling; she could win awards for her vocal prowess. Perseverance is my only option, having spent every last penny from my savings to find myself in Turkey. I've vowed that things will improve.
One fateful evening, my employer insisted I accompany her to the mall, where her insatiable shopping appetite took over. She raced through the stores while I struggled to keep up, bags piling around me, her relentless scolding ringing in my ears. Tears welled up, but I fought to hold them back. At last, in the parking lot, as I loaded the car with her acquisitions, I paused to catch my breath, only to feel two menacing hands clasp my shoulders. Panic set in as a rag covered my mouth, and my hands were tied behind me. I glanced at my frantic employer, her fear mirrored in her eyes as a gun pointed our way. Despite my disdain for her, I couldn't help but see her vulnerability. As I was forcibly dragged into another vehicle, I silently prayed for divine intervention, realizing I was in grave danger.
The car sped away, me sandwiched between a menacing figure in the backseat and the driver. "Yes, sir, we have her. She's black. The package is secure," the man beside me reported on the phone, clearly speaking to someone of utmost importance. This only intensified my dread. We drove for nearly twenty minutes before stopping at an airstrip, where a helicopter awaited. My heart sank as I was ushered on board. We were leaving Diyarbakir. Would my employer even be able to locate me? I had no identification, no phone. Was this how my situation was going to improve?
Two hours later, we touched down in Istanbul, a city notorious for its underground dealings, and I found myself a hostage here. This might be the end of the line for me. We landed safely, and a convoy of sleek black vehicles awaited us. I was ushered into one of them, and after just twelve minutes, we arrived at what could only be described as a palace. It was the most exquisite place I'd ever seen, and for a brief moment, I forgot the peril I was in. "This is the Garden of Eden," I whispered to myself, captivated by the splendor. Ahead lay a grand mansion surrounded by enchanting gardens, its doors flung wide open. As I entered, still a captive, I couldn't help but marvel at the breathtaking beauty, the opulence, and the modernity that surrounded me.
They led me to a stunning room, resembling a guest suite from a luxury hotel. It boasted a perfectly sized bed, walls adorned with matching elegance, and a closet to match. A mini sitting area graced the room with a sumptuous sofa, a gleaming coffee table, and an enormous flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. I settled onto the couch while the man knelt before me, starting to untie the gag. "You are truly exquisite," he remarked, his eyes devouring me hungrily, as though I were the most delectable treat. It was as if he were salivating over melting chocolate. Gosh, I couldn't stand Turkish men. "Once my boss is through with you, we'll have a feast," he said, a mischievous grin on his face. Without thinking, I spat in his direction. He raised his hand, ready to deliver a searing slap, and I braced myself, eyes squeezed shut. But the slap never landed. It felt like an eternity before I dared to open my eyes. When I finally did, I found myself breathless for a moment.