‹ Prequel: Lost Little Girls
Sequel: Call It Princely ›
Some Little Princesses
princess g i r l
Throbbing.
It didn't actually hurt at first, it was just throbbing. Something inside of her skull was trying to press out only to give up for a moment and then try again. She hated this. She knew exactly what it was. It was her version of a hangover. It happened whenever she drank God knew how many shots of absinthe.
Turning over, her face pressed into the fuzzy edges of a knit blanket. Izzy pulled her head back sharply. Her family had nothing like that. Knitting was too homely for the high class. Only leather and other items that were considered the highest fashion were acceptable in their penthouse.
"Tea's on the table in front of you."
A jolt like electricity ran through the frail body of the socialite. She flopped down onto her back and her head began to ache. The throb began more of a pang. It was actual pain replacing the simple pulsing that had tried to press against her skull before.
Bloodshot eyes opened to narrow slits trying to distinguish the world around her that was so unfamiliar it could only be a twisted kind of dream. And it truly was twisted. It was too plain and yet overdecorated to be something that might be normal to her mind. Her mind tried to catalog all of the things in the room, the dollies, the little trinkets made of glass and plastic, the dolls hidden behind walls of fake glass.
Too much for her mind to take in.
"Tea," the voice pointed out again a little more demanding this time. Izzy forced herself to turn her red eyes towards the mystery soul who had dared to intrude and pain her mind. "Yeah that's it girlie. Damn but you did a number on yourself," the man was tall and black with a tie and glasses. "Andrea! That drunk kid you found last night is awake!" he called unable to help a smile that tugged at his lips as she winced.
"Learn to have some sense Kellan," a woman said walking into the room with a cup of coffee and shaking her head. "And some mercy. Don't worry young lady. Kellan's just grouchy when he hasn't had his coffee," she explained handing the cup to the man who stood leaning against the couch. "What's your name honey?"
She reached up and gently rubbed her dark hair hoping to expel the aching from her head. "Izzy...Izzy Markus."
It didn't actually hurt at first, it was just throbbing. Something inside of her skull was trying to press out only to give up for a moment and then try again. She hated this. She knew exactly what it was. It was her version of a hangover. It happened whenever she drank God knew how many shots of absinthe.
Turning over, her face pressed into the fuzzy edges of a knit blanket. Izzy pulled her head back sharply. Her family had nothing like that. Knitting was too homely for the high class. Only leather and other items that were considered the highest fashion were acceptable in their penthouse.
"Tea's on the table in front of you."
A jolt like electricity ran through the frail body of the socialite. She flopped down onto her back and her head began to ache. The throb began more of a pang. It was actual pain replacing the simple pulsing that had tried to press against her skull before.
Bloodshot eyes opened to narrow slits trying to distinguish the world around her that was so unfamiliar it could only be a twisted kind of dream. And it truly was twisted. It was too plain and yet overdecorated to be something that might be normal to her mind. Her mind tried to catalog all of the things in the room, the dollies, the little trinkets made of glass and plastic, the dolls hidden behind walls of fake glass.
Too much for her mind to take in.
"Tea," the voice pointed out again a little more demanding this time. Izzy forced herself to turn her red eyes towards the mystery soul who had dared to intrude and pain her mind. "Yeah that's it girlie. Damn but you did a number on yourself," the man was tall and black with a tie and glasses. "Andrea! That drunk kid you found last night is awake!" he called unable to help a smile that tugged at his lips as she winced.
"Learn to have some sense Kellan," a woman said walking into the room with a cup of coffee and shaking her head. "And some mercy. Don't worry young lady. Kellan's just grouchy when he hasn't had his coffee," she explained handing the cup to the man who stood leaning against the couch. "What's your name honey?"
She reached up and gently rubbed her dark hair hoping to expel the aching from her head. "Izzy...Izzy Markus."
♠ ♠ ♠
So, sorry these chapters are so short, but I honestly can't seem to think of any way to make them longer because of how I'm writing this.