The wind cackled against the bedroom window, ratt-a-tat-tatt-ratt-a-tat-tatt, over and over again. My face was buried in my linen-covered-duck feathered pillow. The pillow itself was damp with my frustrated tears.
Since my earliest memory I have always been in this house. I have been trapped here, surrounded by those black iron fences with their sharp tips. When I was younger I used to believe the words of the staff and my Mother. The world out there was a ‘scary place’ they would tell me. ‘The gates were there to keep out the danger’. ‘The cameras were there to make sure there were no intruders’. ‘It’s all to keep you safe’
I used to believe that my Mother was the most amazing woman in the world. That she was the most beautiful creature in existence, that nothing on Earth could counter her elegance and pure quintessence. Back then she wasn’t that bad. Back then every negative aspect of my life was hidden behind closed doors and thick lies. I guess growing up makes you disillusioned with life.
I soon learnt the lies.
It was because of Amanda. She was a local on the island of Dominica and she would come every Sunday to tutor me on languages. She would teach me Spanish, Standard English and Creole. My Mother at the time insisted that it was essential for me to learn languages to grow with a well-rounded mind. Which never made any-sense, since she was always telling me how ‘vile’ the outside world was, how she would never ‘let me go there and be contaminated’.
Amanda was supposed to teach me languages, which she did for her part, but she also taught me things about the world. She would bring me fantasy novels or sometimes newspapers, which at the time I valued more than gold. As long as I requested it she would eventually find a way to smuggle the items in. The more I read, the more I learnt about history or love or politics, my mind and my horizons expanded. In my head I could picture the splendour of the ocean, I could see the lush greens of the Amazon, I could picture the heat of the Savannah. With travel writing I became the tourist in the beautiful cities of London, Paris or Tokyo. With Enid Blyton books I experienced friendship and traditional schooling, with Jacqueline Wilson’s stories I found myself the protagonist of dramatic teenage angst scenarios, feeling heartbreak or exhilarating excitement.
The more I read the more I understood the good and the bad aspects of the world. It made me realise that the disgusting ‘outside’ that Mother ranted about and the staff fed to me were all lies.
Then one day Amanda disappeared.
Since then all my tutors were gloomy, boring and barely spoke. The staff in the house were never consistent, the only ones that were always present were Jamie and Lisa. Jamie I knew was a Doctor, one time I heard one of the staff referring to him as such, and he is the main one that is always dealing with my Mother when she is feeling ‘a bit ill’. When it concerns Lisa I have no idea. I don’t know what her real occupation is, but I believe her to be someone directly hired by my Grandfather to monitor my Mother. This is because all she did was look after my Mother and act as her closest ally, her exterior appeared warm and comforting like you could tell her your darkest and deepest secrets with confidence. However in reality she was cold and indifferent to others. She controlled all the staff and most of the time treated me like air when my Mother wasn’t around.
Sometimes she would leave this place in a black car. Or late at night, when I was young enough to wander around the estate without catching suspicion, I would notice her conversing on the phone. Her tone would be impressively polite. Saying ‘Yes Sir’ or ‘I’m dealing with it Sir’, her posture and even her aura seemed submissive when she was on the phone to this person. After some time I came to the conclusion that this mysterious authoritative figure was in fact my Grandfather, the person my Mother would fondly tell me stories of all the time. The man that I had never met.
I wonder, even now I wonder. Am I really her child.
I got up from my bed. I’d been crying into it miserably for so long that I felt sick. I walked to the bathroom and as I wretched into the sink I saw my reflection in the large mirror. My green eyes, my curly black hair. We look nothing alike. Perhaps I wasn’t her child. Perhaps the reason they were keeping me here wasn’t because of my Mother’s paranoia. Maybe I was truly just a coping mechanism for her insanity. They had picked up a random child and they were using it. I was just a doll in a dollhouse. It’s my purpose to be played with by Mother like the toy I am. Why should a toy deserve any form of freedom…
It’s a negative line of thought, but with my Father being just another delusion in her mind it was a possibility none the less.
I turned on the taps and washed my face with cold water. Sighing I put on a white kimono that was decorated with red and white lilies, and walked out of my room. As usual there was someone standing outside. ‘She’s ‘different’ I had thought, since that was the first time I saw her. She was dressed in a long flowery summer dress, she looked like a native Dominican with her gorgeously dark skin and braided hair tied up in a bun. She respectfully nodded to me and asked,
‘Where are you going Young Master? Can I be of any service? I will accompany you.’
Her eyes observed me and I knew for a fact she was just one of the many monitoring me. Regardless of whether I wanted her too or not she was going to accompany me anyways. So I just walked past her and stated ‘I am going to the library.’
Oh that Library. I hated it. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore books, I am a serious book worm, however I hated ‘that’ library. This was because it was a library full of lies. Each book had no pictures, no author written on it, just a bland title. Each book had fabricated contents. They would portray the outside world as war ridden like some crazy dystopia that George Orwell and Margaret Atwood would of conceived together in collaboration. Haha, now I recall that even the maps were wrong, there was even an atlas that depicted the Earth as flat, warning how if young children left their estates they would immediately fall through the sky and into an icy death in the depths of space. Absolutely ridiculous, but at the same time terrifying. So terrifying that they would have the time to do something so insane. And you know what is even more scary, it’s that I would of believed all of it if I had never met Amanda. There was no internet here, my daily schedule after waking up was taking a run, working out with some of the hired trainers, I would then horse-ride in the fields under observation. Then the tutors would come, teaching Maths, English or their fake History and Geography lessons. During these lessons my Mother would stare and watch me, very intensely. Then after that I would play with her. I would talk about my day (as if she hadn’t been monitoring the entire thing), we’d water her flowers, or sunbathe and relax. Then there would be the long awaited tea time that always occurred really late in the afternoon, practically dinner. At one point in the day Mother was likely to experience some form of psychotic episode, and during that episode 5/10 times she would take it out on me, verbally or physically until the staff calmed her down. The other 5/10 times it was on the ‘invisible’ Father.
On rare occasions Mother would invite her friends around, they would join in for tea and fuss over me and talk until the next day. They fed Mothers delusions, because they weren’t her friends they were staff members that dressed up and imitated people my Mum might of known or entirely made up. Funnily/ Sadly she couldn’t tell the difference.
That had been my routine for 17 to nearly 18 years of my life. So you can I understand why I myself was slowly being driven insane. There was no way out. I wanted to stop playing this dumb role. I thought Lisa might provide me with a way out, but it was a small and obviously stupid hope in the first place.
I walked in silence to the library. The staff member following behind me like some mindless Zombie. When we got there I stared at the impressive row upon row of encased lies. The only good thing about this place was that the lies were so ridiculous that it got me laughing so hard when I read them, and I definitely needed some cheering up.
Lisa shadowed me as I went to the ‘culture’ section of the library. Just as I picked up a random book I heard the sound that changed my life forever. It was the largest amount of laughter I had ever heard, It was hearty and deep. It resonated throughout the quiet library. It had an infectious appeal to it that made me feel excited, happy and terrified.
Startled, I ran up the aisles, practically sprinting, so much so that when I came to a halt I could hear the wheezing breathe of the staff member behind me. But I didn’t care about her, I cared about him.
He was wearing a tropical sky blue shirt that was buttoned all the way to the collar. It was tucked into a pair of beige long trousers. The clothes weren’t tight but against his lean and muscular frame I could easily make out the outline of his build. His shoes were black and immaculately polished, so much so that I could see myself reflected in them. He appeared immaculate and tidy. His skin had an olive like tan to it and his hair was wavy and shoulder length, some of it was neatly tied up at the back. He was holding a book in one of his hands, whilst reading it his face was smiling to the point that you could see the laugh lines prominently around his eyes and slight humorous tears were about to fall out of them. At that moment he seemed like the most genuine person I had ever met. I envied him, I wished I could be that carefree.
I stared for perhaps over a minute and observed as he placed the book back on the shelf. He then turned to me and that Woman, and gave a sweeping bow. As his brown eyes stared up at us and he stood straight, that was when I felt a strange feeling of danger from him.
‘The library is restricted to the tutors and the Mistress and Young Master. I don’t know you. Are you authorised to be here. Show me your ID!’ The staff member beside me suddenly piped up. She walked in front of me and outstretched her hand in front of the strange handsome man.
However he didn’t comply, he laughed at her, but this time his laughter was icy. He walked up to her and then suddenly using the back of a black object he smashed it against her head. She dropped.
It happened so quickly that by the time I was capable of feeling any form of panic or doing anything she was already on the floor. That black metal object that I couldn’t identify had its cold muzzle against my forehead. I didn’t know what it was at the time, as I’d never seen one in person, but I felt that it could hurt me.
I later found out it was called a gun.
As he held that gun to my face I could only stutter ‘Yyyyyy….you’re not a staff member’ and he laughed again.
I nearly forgot that I was going to post a chapter of ‘A Fairy Tale Prince’ daily.
So here is Chapter 4. The thriller side of the story is really showing itself at this point. Things are becoming really fired up and it will only get better. Stay tuned!
Thank you so much for visiting ‘Story Zone’!!!