La Principessa

Chapter 3

Depaysement (n.)- The disorientation felt in a foreign country or culture. The feeling of being a fish out of water.

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ANASTASIA'S POV

In the 4 days that I have been running away, I've learned quite a lot about unknown people and environments. Being a 12-year-old little girl makes you vulnerable, a prey, and a victim for those in power. I accepted straight away to trust no one but myself and with the knowledge that no one is to be truly trusted in this world, it was a very easy choice.

If my own parents hurt me, anyone could.

It was this thought that echoed in my mind each and every time I came across new people, some who treated me kindly and some who looked at me with disgust before walking away, without helping me or questioning the various noticeable injuries that are still very much present on my face.

I suppose I was thankful for them. I had no idea what I would have done if they tried to help or even speak to me. The only people that I've ever spoken to, even if the words I uttered were very limited, were myself and my parents, and the outcome of that was never good for me. The thought of even considering being brave enough to ask for help has me so terrified my entire body locks up and the panic I tried to put to the side spikes again.

Though there was a kind man who helped me. Without even knowing me, or who I was, who my parents were, he wordlessly bent down to where I was attempting to nap on the ground in the street and smiled at me before he gave me something I came to realise a day later was money. I almost cried when with the money the man kindly gave me, I bought myself an apple and a small bottle of water before giving the remaining money to a homeless man I came across as I ran some more.

That was three days ago, and I've been without food or water since. I've run and run without stopping and avoided people on the whole. I've had this feeling of unease whenever someone tried to approach me, that I was being watched. So as terrible as I felt for ignoring them, I put my head down and kept to myself whilst on my journey to freedom.

But for me, it's okay since I'm extremely fortunate enough to have the clothes on my back. The nights when my stomach is empty and I'm so hungry aren't as bad anymore, I can handle it. I've withstood worse than being starved for a couple of days.

Whether it's night or day, I don't stop running until I'm far away from them. I've always dreamt about being free, about running so far away from those who hurt me and seeing things I've only ever read about in my books in person. I've always thought I would never experience anything but abuse, but I did and I'm extremely... happy, as shocking as that is.

Although it was me being alone, I'm content like that, I'm used to it and have no problem living life alone, I prefer it. I like my own company. There's not much needed to make me happy. Simple things like the sunrise or whenever I see doggies on the streets bring a huge smile to my face.

But there are times when I hate being in my own company. There was a time I sat there, on the bench for hours gazing at families in the park jaw-slacked when they were having picnics. With children my age playing and the parents taking pictures of their children and chuckling at how silly they were.

It shocked as well as confused me that not everyone lived life as I did. With parents who hated my very existence and would never willingly have a picnic with me or take pictures of me. Parents that hit me even if I did nothing wrong. I'm sure they would, instead, push me around and take pictures of me when I'd be all bloody and beaten, and look at it after like it was an accomplishment like every other time.