Perfect Flaws

1. Traitor

Rhea

Who are you? 

When life gets tough and you're forced to face your true self, who do you become? Who do you see? 

When night comes, forcing you to bed, what are your thoughts? What keeps you up until the sun rises because sleep doesn't seem to want you? When your thoughts capture you, taking you by surprise and completely drown you?

What happens to the person you've come to know over the years? The person you thought you were? 

What happens when you lose a piece of yourself, and your soul slowly chips away? 

I thought I knew who I was, what I wanted. 

My whole life I had this thought, that when I got older I would become... 

What? Who? 

I never really knew. 

But I did. 

I knew that I would become the queen of my land. I knew I lived in royalty. I knew I held a title that politically deemed my life more worthy over the other children I met. 

I knew my home was bigger than most, that my bedroom could fit hundreds of children who shared a bed with their family, because they didn't have a room at all. 

I knew I was lucky to be born into a wealthy family. The family of our kingdom. 

But why did it have to happen so soon? 

What's the point of having a title deemed so important, so noble, so honorable, if I don't have what I truly want? 

Freedom. 

Freedom from pain, freedom from this lifestyle, from these people, from myself. 

Every night I think about my parents. 

Just two months ago, I saw them. 

Just two months ago, they left oversea to meet with another kingdom. Another royal family. 

Only hours after they left, it was announced. 

The news couldn't wait to get out. Headlines with bold words, stamped on every street, every wall, every store. 

Publishers racing to let everyone know what happened. 

News reporters excited to get the latest update, the next piece of information to obsess over until they find something else. 

Each article showing just how sickening humans can be. How despicable a mind can work. 

"They're dead!"  I'd hear.

"They've drowned!"  It rings in my ears.

"Can you believe it?"  They'd ask. 

Each word I'd see within the media was completely and only about my family. My parents. 

Gifts of different kinds were given to me, cards with people's names telling me just how bad they feel for me. 

I'd even gotten cards of congratulations on my inheritance. 

Like inheriting the title of queen was to be celebrated. As if no life was sacrificed over the position. 

So, again, I ask myself, who are you? 

And I have the same answer as last time. 

I don't know.

The unfair and horrendous obligations of it all leaves me with sickening doubts.