I Was Only 17

ONE

Crooksville,1872
"What's your name?" a strange voice call from the black room.
"Arabella, Arabella Greens" I answered, trying not to let the fear in my body escape "Where am i?" I said in almost a whisper. The voice in the room just sighed deeply and threw a knife right at my head. I took my last sharp breath as blood splattered everywhere and I fell to the floor.

I woke up in a scream. My heart pumping out of my chest and my head almost spinning. My room was pitch black and I could barely even see my shaking hands. I couldn't stop shaking, I wanted to, but I physically couldn't. I kept telling myself it was just a nightmare, but that dream was just too close to reality for me. I found my way out of my bed and down the stairs.

It never took me crazy long to get ready in the mornings but I am a girl so it runs in my blood to take more than 15 minutes. I never look good at work but I try my best to at least look clean. I stood in silence as I stared at myself in the mirror. Ok i have to admit i am naturally pretty, but that will never be enough for me. I had thrown on an old brown t-shirt that complimented my brown curly hair and some paint stained blue jeans.

I made two small pieces of bread with some butter and got a nice tall glass of water. I put it nicely on a tray and walked over to my dad's room. He was laying on his bed, like always. He looked helpless, extremely helpless. He tried to smile but I saw the pain in his eyes. "Dad, it's ok. You should get more rest. I'll see you later, After work. i promise." That was a promise I could keep, well I thought. I drop off his tray on the side of his bed. His room was old and gloomy like it had always been. He had never moved mom's old stuff nor her favourite chat that sat nicely in the corner of the room. I was about to walk out of his room when he started to whisper. I knew he should not be speaking but I ran to his bed and sat beside him "nightmares?" he managed to say. i didn't know what to say so i just nodded " me too" he looks terrible " see... you later" he told me. I nodded and left. After my mum died my dad has been very sick. So sick. Worse then sick. No doctor can help him. No person in the world can fix him. I can't save him.

I started to walk to work when I froze in front of my mothers old garden. Tears in my eyes. I didn't say anything but just smiled. I was not happy. But it felt right.

It took me 45 minutes to get to work. I lived on the far side of our island. I lived on the "hill side" as the rich people call it. The poor people like me, we live on the outsides of the island on and in the hills. We live close to the shore and in the mountains. We work in the city and live off the scarpes. We don't complain. We don't want to die.

There's a castle, pass the hills, pass the shore, pass the village. You're lucky to even live in the village. You're lucky to have a house with a roof. You're lucky if you have food, and I prayed for that luck every night.

I got to the castle and walked in the back entrance. About 200 women were there too. I barely know them. I barely speak to one. I walk over to my 'boss' (an older woman who makes sure we work where we have to work) "GREENS!?" Her sharp voice pierce through my ears like blades "YOUR LATE!" She screeched. She threw me a bucket and yelled "5th FLOOR NOW!" It took me everything to not laugh as i didnt feel like getting beat nor fired. I took my stupid bucket and cleaning supplies and headed to the fifth floor.

The fight floor of the castle was very pretty. It was where all the rooms were. Huge chandeliers hung from the high ceilings. Beautiful carpets spread down the halls. Everything was so nice I felt like a painting wouldn't do it justice. I was with about 20 other women. I was the youngest there at only 17 while everyone looked in their 30s or 50s. Most of them looked starving, sick and some even looked angry. I was told to go clean room 37. Why am I always stuck with the worst rooms? I thought to myself as I paced down the hall to room 37. I knocked, no answer. I opened the door, which was unlocked and I walked in. Someone crashed into it as the door flung closed. "What the hell are YOU doing in MY room?" A tall tanned boy asked. Stuck up brat. I thought to myself. "I work here '' I said in discuse showing him my bucket. "but you're like 15? You have to be at least 16 to work as a-"
"17" i cut him off coldly
"out of every single job you pick-"
" I didn't PICK this" I told him my anger boiling up inside me "not all of us have perfect lives you know?"
"What's your name?" he asked. I hate when people ask me that question. I looked up from the ground, staring dead into his eyes. Pushed my lips together and said "Arabella... Arabella Greens"
I thought he had a stork. His face was in shock. "Greens?" He asked, almost sounding scared of the name rolling off his lips. I don't understand what people see in him. This was the first time I talked to the king's son, a pathetic excuse for a prince. His son was not as stuck up but more perfect, way too polite, charming and curved in all the right places. Crap wait no. He is a ugly son of a.....
Without even saying a word I left the room. "Grayson... Grayson Labell" He told me. He stuck out his hand thinking I would shake it. But I won't. I didn't say anything but look at him. I had never really seen him up close before, I felt like I was standing too close. But he had beach blond hair and soft blue eyes, just like his mum. I have met his mum. She hired me. A year before she died. Our moms died exactly 3 months apart. Wired. I know. Before my mind could get lost in thought I was quickly snapped out of it as his soft voice said "I better get going, Arabella right?"
"mhm" I just told the man my name and he HAD to ask again.

I was cleaning his room when I found a little note on the side of his bed. It wrote "Arabella, remember that." I didn't want him to remember my name or my voice or my hair or me. But he did. I left the note on the side of his bedside table. But the note was not untouched.... I wrote on the corner... "screw off :)" i know i should have left it alone. This could get me fried. But I couldn't care less. My life is already falling apart.