Worlds Apart

Eleven

We pulled into her driveway and exited the car.
"Come on, Blondie," Riley called to me from the door.
Anxiety stirred uncomfortably in my gut. Her words reminded me of when I would attend parties with my parents. I knew if I stepped a toe out of line, my mother would give me the look, and that meant we'd talk about my new crafty punishment when we got home. It only took three punishments to mold me into their perfect princess. Three excruciating punishments to put fear into my soul if I ever thought about disobeying them again. I let Riley lead me back to her bedroom and hand me more clothes to wear. I shook violently when I entered the bathroom. Would I be punished for getting between her friendship? Did I take too long on the side of the road? Every possible thought ran through my mind, and I hesitated to open the door. A gentle knock pushed the thoughts out of my head when Riley spoke softly from the other side.
"I'm not mad at you. I'm not going to force you to leave either, Anastasia."
She said my name as if it weren't poisonous or a threat. She said it with care and sincerity, and it was all too much for me. I let myself break and cry on her cold bathroom floor, contaminating it with my sheer being. She knocked again, harder.
"Anastasia, are you okay? Can I come in?" She sounded urgent, and I could barely hear her over the cloud of fog that flooded my mind.
It didn't matter how well and kindly I was treated here, because, in the end, I had to go back. I couldn't be here forever, and it would only be worse if I let them find me. What new form of punishment fits this crime? Would my mother forbid me from the sun or let me burn in its light until I begged for mercy? I felt a smeared mascara crust around my eyes, and my nose dripped with snot. I was disgusting—a bride fit for a disgusting man like Solomon. Riley shoved the door open and crouched down on my curled form on the floor.
"What's going on? Did I do something?"
I could only shake my head, because what else could I do? I could never tell her the real reason I was on the road or why her simple gestures mean so much to me. She held my face up to her, wiping the blackened tears from my chin and cheeks.
"I–" I coughed, "I don't want to go back, please. I can't."
I didn't know why I burdened her with this. Who was I to her? A random girl with abnormalities who doesn't even know how to work a phone or vehicle door. She pulled me into her, and I felt her arms drape over me like a warm blanket.
"You don't have to; I won't make you," she said, smoothing my messy hair.
I pulled back to look at her, and she looked as damaged as I did. She barely knew me and cared so much for someone she'd never see again. I wanted this to last, and I wanted to be looked at the way she looked at me. So I pushed my lips against hers. It was hot and heavy, and she let me push myself into her body. I let them linger on hers until she grabbed my hips and pulled herself away. She looked flushed and wide-eyed. I let her stare at me until she smiled. She was big and happy, like she enjoyed it as much as I did. And I didn't know why I did, because I couldn't be with her in the end.
"Let's go downstairs." She helped me up from the now-warm floor.
I let her feed me snacks and fizzy caffeine-loaded beverages since I had thrown up what I had previously eaten. I didn't mind; they were savory, and I was a little hungry now that my belly was empty. She let me eat, and the dreaded moment finally came when she sat next to me on the couch and let me finish chewing my last bit of crisps.
"We need to talk long-term, Anastasia." She said that, giving me a sympathetic look.
I raised my brow and asked, "What do you mean?"
"I mean where things are going to go. Are you ever planning on going home? If I could, I would let you stay here as long as you want. My only issue is that eventually someone will come looking for you, and I'm not good with cops."
I let the thought linger in my mind. As much as I wished to separate myself from my other life, she was right. My parents were ruthless, and a runaway princess was nothing compared to their other affairs. I could be found right now if they wished. I couldn't hold up the lie that I was human forever, because sooner or later I would need blood for nutrients, and I wouldn't age the same way Riley would. I was torn.
"I need you to talk to me. I'm not asking you to tell me anything you don't want to, but I need to know your intentions." Riley placed her hand on top of mine.
I knew my answer well, and that meant I couldn't stay here with her. I couldn't be with her.
"I have to go back," I said, "eventually."
She sighed. It wasn't the answer she wanted, but it was the truth she deserved.
"Aren't you old enough to make your own decisions? I moved away from my parents when I was 18."
If only it were that simple.
"It's different for me; I can't. I must inherit everything, and to do that, I have to go back."
She nodded. "Okay, but when do you need to go back?"
That was a difficult question because I didn't know either. The truth would be now, because even if I returned the moment I ran away, I would still be severely punished. A part of me asked why it even mattered if that were the case, but everything mattered to my parents. It didn't matter what I did or what I said. If I breathed incorrectly, I would be lucky to not receive the back of a hand.
"I don't know." I bit my lip and said, "I need to soon, but I want to do more here too. I want to experience this before I go back."
It might not have been Riley's desired answer, but it was sufficient enough to crack a smile from her lips. We watched TV until my eyes began to feel heavy, and I found myself leaning against Riley's shoulder. She had a comfortable warmth that drew me closer to her, and I hoped I wasn't too cold for her. I blinked in and out of sleep. I could only make out being lifted from the couch, placed under blankets, and the lights turning off. Tomorrow was another day, and I hoped it would be as good as the last.



I woke the next morning to the smell of bacon and eggs. The sun was blocked out by the pitch-black curtains that draped too low to the ground, and I enjoyed it. I made the bed shortly after I pulled myself from the sleep spell and laid it out as I was always taught. There weren't curtains hanging from rods like there were on my bed at home, but it felt free to have such a spacious place to lay. I walked downstairs to see Riley in her messy apron and her hair pulled back into a chaotic bun. The hair under it looked too short to fit, and the rest still poked out from all ends. Two thick strands hung in the front of her face as if they refused to cooperate as well. My hair wasn't all that pleasant to look at, with its frizzy curls and loose ends. It was embarrassing to be seen this way, but Riley made not caring look easy.
"Good morning, Blondie." She said it cheerfully.
I drifted around the bar and stood in the small kitchen beside her. There were ingredients laid out on every counter and a pan on top of what I figured was now a modern stove. It popped with grease, and she let me get close enough to look inside the pan. I felt like a child exploring the world for the first time, and in a way, I was. I never watched our servants cook or prepare any meals; it was considered poor for one to cook for themselves. I knew the majority of humans didn't own servants, and that meant they had to learn everything themselves. I had only just realized how sheltered I'd been as I watched Riley make our food with no assistance.
"I just started," Riley turned to me, "do you want to help?"
It was such a simple question, but a complex feeling brewed in the pit of my stomach. It was at that moment that I realized I had no idea how to cook.
"I don't know how," I said, embarrassed.
She placed her hand on my head and said, "No worries; we all start somewhere. Do your parents always cook for you?"
It sounded painfully privileged, but if I told her we had servants, it would only increase that pain. I simply nodded at her, and she untied the apron from her waist.
"I only have one; I don't mind getting dirty, though." She hovered the stained apron over my chest. As if asking for permission. I might have had the privilege of being a servant, but I never had the privilege of consent.
I let her fasten it around my waist. She stepped back and covered her mouth to hide a snicker.
"What?" I asked, looking down at myself for any abnormalities.
"Nothing; it's just obviously too big for you. Is all of your family short?"
I would have laughed with her if I hadn't taken a bit of offense to her question.
"No, my parents are very tall."
She turned back to the stove. "So you just got the short end of the stick? Literally the short end."
I pushed her playfully, making her shove me back. It was harder than I did, but I pretended it didn't almost knock me on my ass.
"Okay, come here." She said this, placing her hand on my lower back.
"Don't put your face too close because the grease pops out at you. When it starts curling, flip it with the tongs."
I had no idea what any of her directions meant, but I seemed to have grabbed the right tool since she didn't correct me. I stretched out my arm and carefully flipped the bacon. The heat was overwhelmingly hot, and I figured out immediately how easy it had been. The raw side started to crack, and I placed the tongs on the counter.
"See, that wasn't hard." Riley smiled down at me.
She might have been right about many things, but not this. This was not easy. I wanted to explore this world as an equal and get used to modern ways. But it felt harder for me to think about returning home the longer I stayed here. As my thoughts raced, I remembered humans had everyday jobs. And it was peculiar that Riley hadn't mentioned having one. I watched her finish observing the bacon before her eyes slid toward me. I quickly averted her eyes, but it was too late.
"Something wrong, Blondie?" She asked.
I thought about how to word it without sounding like a complete imposter.
"Don't you have a job?"
She laughed, "Funny, you ask, because I used my vacation days for these two upcoming weeks. Victoria got us a beach house that we were going to stay at for a week; her parents are rich."
"Oh," I said, unknowingly bringing her to my attention again.
"That's why I asked when you wanted to leave. If you stay, you can come with us. But it is pretty far, and once you're there, we can't drive you back if someone comes looking for you." She slid the bacon onto a paper towel.
I bit my lip. I did want to go, but I had two problems: Victoria and my parents. Last night, I practically confirmed she hates my guts. And it's only so long before my parents send someone to fetch me.
"I don't want to intrude on your trip with Victoria; I don't feel welcomed around her," I said truthfully.
Riley shrugged. "I understand, but I would love it if you went with us. Three is better than two, and I already told her I'm not leaving you alone."
Her words soothed my anxiety, and just as we picked up our plates of bacon and eggs, her phone dinged. She let me place my plate on the coffee table, and I watched her tap rapidly on her screen. The corners of her mouth turned upward into a wide smile.
"It's Victoria. She said she'd be overjoyed for you to come with us."