Kingdom of isolation - you can't hide

Forty Three ~ Aurora

Aurora

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing you don't feel comfortable with, your highness."

"Please stop calling me that."

The last few weeks have been a complete blur. Once the wedding cards came through, it was a race against time to get things done.

I've read about brides being excited about their wedding day and everything that comes with it. So excited that they physically cannot contain it.

I am a far cry from that.

I can't sleep and it's not because I'm excited. I haven't stopped eating because I want to look slim in my pictures. No, it physically hurts to eat more than a few bites of something. These are not the same things.

I never imagined a marriage in my life, let alone this quickly. It feels like yesterday when I was living the life of a nomad. Now, I'm days away from tying the knot with Alexander.

Alexander, stealer of kisses.

Despite my best efforts to make him change his mind, I'm still here, trying not to scare the staff away by having a complete breakdown. He wasn't kidding when he said we'll be getting married before the year ends. It's december and fucking freezing.

I sip my energy drink, afraid I'll pass out and then the staff will have to deal with more drama.

I'm barely holding it together. Barely. There's a dark cloud looming over me, threatening to consume me whole every time I get too lost in my thoughts.

It was inevitable. All of this has been inevitable. I realise it now. Perhaps I've always known that this is where I would eventually end up.

It's one of the reasons why I don't want to understand what that man wants from me anymore. He has enough money to last him a lifetime. Security and influence all around the world that people could only dream of.

I'm not naive. I have an..idea on the kind of work he does and it involves a lack of heart. Something he's an expert on, apparently.

I'm also not stupid enough to believe that I can somehow get him to change his ways either. That's not my job. Besides, I wouldn't know where to start.

He's a powerful man who has taken an unhealthy obsession with me. That's all it is. He doesn't like me nor care how I feel.

In fact, we haven't spoken to each other long enough to know what we like or don't like. I've come to terms with that knowledge. Or, at least, I'm trying to.

That man does not want to just marry me, he wants to own me. The way he's been told all his life.

What's the worst thing he could do to me from here on? I inhale sharply, shaking my head. Let's not go there today.

I have enough to deal with as it is. Personal stylists and everyone in between hover around me, waiting for me to say something. Anything to make themselves useful.

I know they can sense my sadness and they're trying to be kind by not letting me know how pathetic I must look to them.

I don't want anyone's pity. Pitying me means that there's no hope. And while I may have had a tumultuous relationship with that word, I still stupidly want to believe that I can contribute to something before I die.

"You can do whatever you've been told to do. It's fine." I say, politely.

My hair is cut and styled differently. My skin glows superficially. I smell different, thanks to the curated products that are supposed to compliment my skin chemistry.