My Story

They came for us the next day.

The messengers, I mean.

To take us to that stupid princess academy.

They knocked on the inn door first thing in the morning.

Told us to pack up and get ready. They would be coming for us at noon.

I didn’t know what to feel.

There was just this brilliant array of emotions to choose from.

Happy? Sad? Excited? Nervous? Totally and utterly delighted?

Truth was, i couldn't decide.

So in the end I just felt… empty.

Just like I had been the day before.

Empty.

Utterly and totally void of feeling.

I should’ve been excited I guess, now that I think of it.

The others definitely were.

But not me.

Hazele went came over at nine.

Hugged me and told me to stay strong and stand up to the B.R.A.T. She had been crying, I could tell. Her perfect almond-shaped hazel eyes were blurred over and tear-stained. I told her I would and there was no need to cry. Hugged her back and told her should Peter ever propose to her she HAD to accept or I wouldn’t be very pleased.

She positively glowed with pleasure. I just had to smile at her joy.

And that was the only feeling I felt all day.

They did come at noon.

In this big carriage full of giggly girls. Eugh. Or rather, 12.03pm. Pretty punctual, those guys. I climbed woodenly into the carriage and sat at the farthest corner , away from Angel, away from the girls. And we drove off.

I couldn’t help myself.

I turned to take one last look at the little inn. Dad was waving his hand in the air and smiling with pride, his back stooped over like an old man. There were tears in his eyes. The stoic, stern Dad who had never cried, or look the slightest bit sad in my whole life, crying?

For the first time, I realised all those years working day and night had taken a huge toll on him.

I wanted to hug him, comfort him, say anything to make him feel better.

Granpa would have known what to do. Too bad he was dead.

And I was stuck in a stupid carriage full of stupid giggly girls.

But for him I just had to do something. A smile, a wave, anything.

But I couldn’t feel anything.

Not happiness. Not nostalgia. Nothing.

Not even a single shred of emotion in my body.

Think, Sofea. What could possibly make you happy enough to smile? Think about not seeing that jerk for a year. Not seeing his stupid face fir a YEAR! How great is that? That should make you happy.

But I’m not.

For some reason it only creates a sense of sadness. I shrug it off and force a smile and wave to the ever-growing-smaller figure of Dad.

That jerk deserved it. True, i did yell at him to go away when he tried to help, but hey, at least it was a reaction. When I tried to help, he didn't even react. And hey, people are entitled to being pissed off at a person who, out of the blue, reacts to something that isn't that big a deal anyway. Though i guess he did have a reason to yell at me. Of sorts. I was being rude.

Still.

He didn't have to call me 'a stinking old village hag'. Who likes being called that?

Perhaps i should've heard him out then. Get it over and done with.

But it's too late for that now.

I keep my face on his figure as the carriage rumbles on and he slowly fades from my view. Then I turn away and stared out of the carriage window for the rest of the journey.