The Princess Who Saved Herself

Chapter One

My dad use to tell me stories about fire breathing dragons and spell casting witches and trolls who lived under bridges, you know, the typical 'bad guys'. They're in every story; they're the creatures that make the heroes heroic. He use to tell me about how the princess would be held hostage by the bad guys, waiting for her prince or saviour or knight in shining armour to come and rescue her. He told me that I'd have a prince to save me one day.

But those were stories from when I was eight and my life long dream was to eat a thousand gummy bears in 10 minutes (totally realistic may I say) Now I'm fifteen, and starting my new life in London.

"Elliot! Elliot wake up! You're going to be late for school!"

I slowly stretch out my arms, pushing my flowered duvet off of my legs. I didn't sleep very well last night. I kept anticipating what would happen today; new schools can be a lot scarier than dragons.

I roll over on to my side, staring up at the pink clock on my bedroom wall. It's only 7:15, so I don't know why my step mom was in such a rush, although this is Theresa we're talking about.

"Elliot! Will you get up!"

I groan frustratedly in reply, not loud enough for her to hear, but loud enough to be able to say I replied when she brings it up at dinner.

"She's up Reese, give the girl a break, it's her first day"

I smile to myself, silently thanking my dad for saving me from a morning of Theresa's overused complaints.

"On my first day I was ready by this time!"

She continues, huffing loudly. I hear her footsteps trail down the stairs, until I can no longer hear her at all. I sigh in relief, making the most of the silence.

"Ells, breakfast is ready"

Dad coos, tapping on my bedroom door gently.

"Coming, Dad"

I reply, dragging myself out of bed. I had already prepared my clothes the night before, nothing too casual or too 'try hard', just a pair of black jeans and an opened collar shirt.

"Look at me El!"

Izzy calls at me as I enter the kitchen. She shovels a whole pancake in her mouth, syrup dribbling down her chin.

"Careful not to choke"

I warn her, picking up a pancake off of her plate.

"That's mine!"

Izzy shouts disapprovingly, spitting out chewed up pancake.

"Don't be such a brat, Elliot"

Theresa drones. That's how she talks, in this dull, annoying, fake-British accent like she's from an old black and white movie.

I ignore her comment as I walk past her, putting two butter waffles in a sandwich bag.

"Maybe you should lay off the carbs, you've been putting on a lot of weight recently"

She drones again, raising her eyebrows at me.

"I don't think you're the one to comment on someone else's weight"

I snark, avoiding eye contact. I grab my lunch from the fridge and make my way to the front door.

"I think you look great, sweetie"

Dad whispers in my ear as he gives me a warm hug. I smile, taking in the comforting smell of his aftershave and fake leather jacket. I use to call it his 'dad smell' because, you know how mums have their own 'mum smell'? It's kind of like that.

"Have a great day princess!"