Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter three, plan.
FRANCESCA KNEW SHE WASN'T GOING TO MAKE IT TO THE LAST TEN. So, naturally, she was in a bit of a situation. The threat of being abandoned for her failures hung over her head and put an unnecessary weight on her shoulders. She just wanted all of this to end.
But how was she going to stop it all? There was absolutely no way she would make it to the last ten, and then what? How was she going to live on the streets, selling her body for a crumb of bread? She couldn't do that, no, not at all. That was no way to live, at that point she'd just be merely surviving instead of living.
What was she to do? A thought crossed her mind once or twice, running away. She knew that if she was caught she'd be criticized and then abandoned to the streets, but she had to at least try, right?
So it was settled, once she was rejected by the royal family she would run away. The plan was simple, really, she would sneak into her family home and steal all of her belongings along with the family carriage. All she had to hope for was that her family didn't find her, and that she didn't end up marrying the cruel prince.
What life awaited for her if she was chosen? Was she to be abused and used as a baby maker much like women were viewed in this world? Would she be locked up until she was needed? Or was she actually going to be loved, and valued. She didn't know, nor did she want to know. She never wanted to know what life would await for her if she was married to the Prince of France and if she was crowned Queen. It was a life she didn't want, and she didn't desire.
No life she would ever have is a life she would desire. She would never live, she would just survive—that much was clear. But that was no way for someone to be alive, how was she to survive without truly being alive?
Her life would always be something she either didn't control, hated or she would succumb to. She would never truly be happy, or so she thought. She was doomed and there was nothing she could do about it, nor would anyone do about it.
Francesca crossed the room, opening the box that held a pale blue dress in it. The dress had lace all along it, along with long sleeves instead of the popular puffy princess sleeves many girls would be wearing. The dress fell so naturally on her body that it didn't need a petticoat, but it didn't suit her. Yes, she looked beautiful, but the dress gave the false illusion that Francesca would be a good house wife, a baby maker. Francesca would speak her mind, slouch at times and laugh at things in the most unladylike way, which this dress didn't show off. This dress wasn't Francesca, Francesca had opinions and soul, while this dress was quiet and lifeless. It was boring and lacked personality. But Francesca's mother picked it out, and she would wear it to present herself to the royal family.
She was doomed. It was like her mother wanted her to fail, like her mother wanted her threat to become true; Francesca would be thrown to the streets and forced to sell herself for a mere loaf of bread.
No one was there to save her, nor did anyone care to save her. She was alone in this cruel world, and she hated every second of it.
DELLA SPEAKS ! ignore how short and bad this chapter is. Hopefully they will get longer as the next chapter is more exciting
