Page 18 of The Loathing

Placing the rose in the small vase that sits on my windowsill overlooking the orchard, I let out a blissful sigh. Pulling my pyjamas from the drawers, I drop the towel and slip into a short and cami set. I tug the stool from the dressing table and plop myself down when I hear my bedroom door go. I see my mother walking towards me in the reflection of the large, ornate mirror that sits on top of my dressing table.

“Hey my sweet girl,” she smiles softly as she approaches, picking my father’s note up off the bed and scoffs. “Your father did always love a note…” she stalls for a moment, “well, most of the time.”

She places the note down on the bedspread and continues walking over to me. She reaches round me and grabs my golden hairbrush.

“May I?” and I nod, love swarming in my chest as my heart thumps against my chest.

Lifting the bristles to my hair, she starts at my crown and slowly brushes my long, fiery red hair.

“You remind me so much of myself at your age,” she hums brushing through my knots.

“You were my age when you came to live with Dad wasn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say lived,” she lets out the smallest laugh but then I see sadness glimpse over her face for just a moment before she is smiling wide again.

“Did you love dad when you first met him?” I ask, prying.

“There was something about him, I felt intimidated by him but also drawn to him. It didn’t matter how much I didn’t want to be near him, I couldn’t help it. He was my perfectly, imperfect.”

My heart skips a beat at how her eyes light up as she speaks about my father. “Don’t get me wrong, your father was no prince charming, he was a very vicious man, but something in him changed and he became a lot softer.”

She half shrugs up, her smile a little sad. “But I loved him fiercely; I still do. I had no purpose in my life until your father. When I was sold to him,” she pauses for a moment as she grabs a loose hair band and wraps it round her wrist. “He used to threaten me and tell me that I had to abdicate the throne, but in the end, the throne wasn’t important to me. I didn’t want him to be by my side all the time, to never be known as any more than a Prince because your father deserved so much more than that, but I couldn’t give it to him if I was a Queen. He would always fall second best, and he was never meant to be second best.”

“So, you abdicated for him.”

She nods, smiling fondly.

“I would have given up the whole world for him if it meant I could love him.”

“Really? You wanted to give up your whole life for him?”

“Darling, when you meet your soulmate, you would give up everything. I mean that, honestly, you would give up your last breath if it meant you could save them,” she chokes on a sob, and I hadn’t realised she has a tear running down her cheek.

“Mum are you okay?” concern roots through me and I turn to see her quietly sobbing.

“I am okay, just a lot of memories come flooding back, I am just so overwhelmed.”

“Oh mum,” I stand and wrap my arms around her holding tight, her arms enveloping me. She breaks away from me and ushers me to sit back down again. I sit, mum picking the brush back up again as she continues brushing my hair.

“Your father let me go, when I was kept prisoner,” she pauses for a moment, her tongue licking across her top lip. I take a moment to study her, the soft wrinkles that are beginning to appear at the side of her eyes, the lines that run from her nose to the corner of her lips are a little deeper than before. I hate that her and my father are ageing, but it’s part of the process of this shitty thing called life.

“I hate using the word prisoner, but at first, I was his prisoner. But things changed between us, we grew closer and I fell deeply and madly in love with him. He told me to go home, told me to leave and go and see my parents again and when I did, my father told me he was dying. I couldn’t focus on anything but my father. I had to be ready to take my crown, to take my place in the royal line, but my father didn’t want that life for me. He begged me with his dying wish that I lived my life in freedom. Once he passed, I knew I needed to go back to your father. He was my freedom, my home.” She pauses as she places the brush down, bristle side up then begins French plaiting my hair.

“I came home, but couldn’t find him anywhere. I still remember I was wearing my royal colours; I had a ball gown on and I flew home to him but he was nowhere to be seen. When I used to roam this house in secret, I found a little room hidden behind the book cases in his library, I saw that the door was open slightly and I just knew that your father was going to be down there. I moved slowly and found him on his knees, arms bound behind his back as his old right hand man Alan had a gun pointed at his head. I honestly felt like time froze, I forgot how to breathe but I managed to move my anchored legs and stand in front of him. I was ready to sacrifice myself for him, because that’s how ferociously I loved him. But in a twist of fate, it was me that took the bullet. I thought that was it, I remember feeling so scared that he would have been shot as well, but as I went down I fired my own gun,” she stalls, my eyes are wide, my mouth agape as shock ripples through me.

“You shot Alan!?” I gasped, covering my mouth.

“I did, but all to protect your father and I swear I have never shot another gun in my life…”

“You’re a badass!” I gloat, my eyes wide and full of admiration for my mum.

She lets out a soft laugh as she ties the bottom of my hair, finishing it off.

“I have fallen slightly off topic, but what I am trying to say is, sometimes the most imperfect man for you turns out to be just your kind of perfect. Fall in love with someone that you would happily sacrifice yourself just to save them.”

I roll my lips, nodding.

“Mum,” I turn in my seat and I watch as she takes her own seat on the edge of the bed.

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