Unattainable Prince Charming ~ a Kaden Schreave fanfiction

1-December 11th

Why?
That was the only though going through my head as I lay, my cheek to the gravel, in the middle of the road. People seldom came this way, though I wasn't sure wether or not I hoped a car would come.
Here I was, an eight-year-old girl, lost in a city I thought I knew. In the middle of the night. In December.
December. December 11th, I realized, as I stared into the darkness of the seemingly endless street. The day my mother died. It had been two years now, two years since she left me, alone to deal with the demons that were my family. My father: alcoholic, violent, short-tempered. My brother: mean, compulsive, bully. That was all I had left after she left.
December 11th. I hadn't even realized. Had my life gotten so bad that I didn't even remember my own mother's death day? Come to think of it, maybe that's why he did it. Did what you ask? Well my lovely father came storming into my room today, fuming and smelling strongly of liquor.
"Pack a bag. You have five minutes." He'd screamed.
I'd obeyed, I had long ago learned not to disobey my father. So I grabbed my bag, a few of my favourite clothes, some books, and my box (the one filled with everything related to my mom: pictures, little trinkets, and the letter she had given me before that deadly disease finally claimed her soul). He then grabbed me by my hair and pulled me to the front door.
By that point, tears were streaming down my face.
We stopped in front of the door, and he kneeled down to my level, looking me directly in the eyes. His eyes were glazed over, cloudy.
" Can't... can't keep you anymore. Money... too low. Can't...no. You look too much like her. I can't look at you, not anymore, no more..." He mumbled.
Then his eyes became sharper, looking into them I saw but cold, hard hatred.
" You waste of space, I want you out of my house! If I ever see you again, I won't hesitate to contact the authorities and have you sent to the nearest orphanage!" He yelled.
I knew the power in that threat. Being in an orphanage was barely a step higher than being an eight.
With a final huff, he threw me out the front door and slammed it so loudly, I thought all of Illéa could hear it.
And so I walked, and walked, and walked. Until I couldn't walk anymore.
So that's how I ended up lost, laying in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night, in the middle of December, in the middle of a town that was nothing but strange shapes and shadows.
The darkness was suddenly pierced but a blinding light.
Headlights, I thought numbly.
There was the screeching sound of the car hitting the breaks, followed by that of a door opening, then slamming shut. The next thing I knew, a man was standing over me, his shadow shielding my eyes from the harsh glare of the car beams. He wore a guard's uniform. A palace guard, damn. I lamented all the possibilities of escape, but quickly abandoned all hope of escape when I realized I couldn't even move my arms.
" Hello? Are you alright?" he asked gently.
The man had black hair and stunning green eyes. He seemed kind enough. I tried to shake my head, but I barely managed to lift my cheek from the ground.
"Aspen?" That was a women's voice.
Another car door opening, closing. Footsteps. I was only half conscious of what was happening at this point, exhaustion and hunger taking its toll. When was the last time I had eaten? When was the last time he had bothered to feed me? I couldn't remember.
The sound of their voices was muffled, I couldn't focus on what they were saying anymore.
The next thing I knew, I was being lifted off the ground. Footsteps. A car door opening, closing. The feeling of a leather seat against my sore back. Another door opening, closing. And then my head was on someone's lap. I felt the silk of their dress against my cheek. The car started, and I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.