⚠️MxFxM STORY WILL BE TOXIC MOST OF THE TIME⚠️
MATURE THEMES SUCH AS SEXUAL ACTS, SELF HARM, VIOLENCE AND MORE
EDEN-IVER (ee-den, ee-v-ayre)
Something... someone, has always been missing from my mind. Somewhere, somehow, I lost... I don't know what...
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•𝐄𝐝𝐞𝐧-𝐈𝐯𝐞𝐫•
It seems as though when I don't want to remember something it's all I can think about. While on the other hand, there's certain things I feel as if I should remember but I don't. Being in this castle, in this room, around theses people... it's making me feel as if I've been here before.
But when I catch a glimpse of a memory it's gone before I can grasp onto it and hold it dear. The look in the kings's eyes render me speechless constantly as they look at me with so much recognition.
Is it possible they think I am someone else? Have they mistaken me for her?
"Miss Eden," Nicoletta's voice rings in my ears as she steps into the room. "I am going help you get ready for your garden time with the kings."
A long silence emerges between us as I stand by the end of the bed and she rummages around the room doing lord knows what.
"Nicoletta?" I speak mindlessly after a bit.
"Yes, dear?" She replies as she swings open a pair of French doors directly in front of my bed, revealing a deep scary looking closet.
"Are you aware of why I'm here?" I ask indifferently, my eyes finding the windows. Look out the window is all I've been able to do since being taken here.
She steps into the closet that I notice has windows on the inside, so it is illuminated the same way my bedroom is. "I am." Nicoletta disappears briefly as the doors close behind her before reemerging a couple minutes later. "But it is not my business to speak of it." In her hands she holds a large gown on a hanger.
I look at it with wide eyes, "why do you have that?" I can't help but ask.
"This is what you are to wear for your meeting with the kings," she says in a 'duh' tone.
"What why? Can't I pick out my own outfit? I mean I've always wanted to play princess but I don't think this is the appropriate time." I walk over to her and run my finger tips over the orange material in her hands. It's a cool autumn orange rather than a bright obnoxious orange. The square neckline is decorated nicely while designs run along the bodice and full length sleeves.
A short laugh escapes her, "I'm sorry but the kind of clothes you were wearing when brought here just won't do, this is what someone like you wears here."
I look up at her with furrowed brows, "what are you talking about? That was one of my best outfits thank you very much. I'd appreciate it back actually, good thrift finds are hard to come by these days." I roll my eyes with my hands on my hips.
"Thrift?" She asks with a scrunch of her brows.
"Second hand clothes meant for the less fortunate that coked out rich kids buy up and then resell for way more than they're worth," I scoff quietly, bitterness lacing my voice.
