Empress

Chapter 13: I F.ucking Hate Birthday Parties

First of all, sorry. It literally took me like a year to feel motivated to write again. I was going through some self-confidence stuff and then the holidays was just so fu.cking busy and by the time January came I had completely forgotten about Empress. Don't know how it happened but it did, sorry for the let-down. Anyway, here you go...

(~)

I wake up, staring up at the ornate ceiling of my bedroom, contemplating the meaning of human emotions. I mean, wouldn't we all just be so much more efficient without them. No fear, no disgust. No love.

Everyone would get along a he.ll of a lot better without emotions. Cinderella would've had a better life if her bit.chy sisters and a.sshole mother didn't hate her. Snowhite would still be in the castle if the Queen hadn't been so da.mn jealous. I wouldn't be here, staring at the fucking ceiling, if my heart wasn't beating out of my chest after thinking about last night.

I mean how dare he come to me and fuck me up like this. I look like a moody teenager. I feel like a moody teenager. 

Am I just now experiencing puberty? What the fu.ck was I even doing? "I want you to be mine!" What kind of cheesy ass sentence is that?! I was practically dripping at the sight of him!

I push away the pressing thoughts momentarily to check my phone. I almost throw it across the room when I see the date.

Today is my least favorite day, the day I was born. Not that me being here is a bad thing, obviously. It's just that every year, someone, whether it be Takao, Marcelle or one of the chefs, throws me a surprise party. I absolutely hate surprises.

One year I almost pepper sprayed one of my maids.

I get up out of bed and enter the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. I need extra girl armor for today.

My brain runs a million miles an hour while I do my hair and make-up. I can't stop thinking about Dimitri. My brain just keeps circling around and around and around him.

Can't I just think of something else like... like... cookies. I fu.cking love cookies, especially the pre-made ones that you just bake in the oven. Fu.ck I could bake some cookies on Dimitri's abs he's so hot. 

Seriously, am I on my period or something because my thoughts are just straight up abnormal.

I step into my walk-in-closet and pick out a quick outfit. I dress for comfort, walking out of my bedroom in snug grey sweatpants, Calvin Klein underwear, and one of my old band shirts from college, and just so you know, I intentionally didn't mention a bra. I'm definitely not trying to impress anyone today. 

As I walk down to the kitchen for breakfast, I look around every corner, and take a moment to scope out the area and calm down before I enter every room. 

I make it to the kitchen, luckily avoiding everyone that's awake. Too bad I'm just putting off the inevitable. 

I manage to scarf down the parfait the chef made me for breakfast and make it back upstairs to my office without seeing anyone yet.

I might make it through this day still! I open up the door, glad to see the familiar polished floors and organized desk.

Marcelle, sitting on said desk however, not so much. She's the only one in the room, which I take as a good sign.

"I'd say get out, but I know you won't listen. So why don't you tell me what you want Marcy."

"Quit being so salty you old hag. It's your birthday and I demand that we celebrate!"