Enchanting

Chapter 5

I hustled as quick as I could back to the detention cell, with Kogane trailing my steps. I wanted get away from here, now. I hate this place, I hate these elves. Never had anything before set me on edge so much, I could take anything on and succeed. 

Not anymore.

That deranged prince is a living nightmare. I can't believe he just, bit me like that. He's disgusting, awful. He's an animal, really. 

My wound is stinging like crazy now. I hurriedly walked into the cell and heard the metal bars clang shut behind me. There's no water in here, nothing I can clean this injury with. Guess I'll just have to suffer through it and let it scab over. 

I curl up into a ball and squeeze my eyes shut. 

I hate this. 

I hate it all.

But most importantly, I hate him.

He's ruined my life, my family, my hopes, my future, my world.

Everything. 

Tears start to leak out of my eyes, and I wipe them away in anger and sadness. I feel hopeless, there has to be some way out of here. I don't want to spend another minute in this wretched place. 

I start to remember when I read fantasy books as a child, with elves and dragons. They were depicted as magical beings that helped the weak humans out during their trivial problems. 

Nothing could have prepared me for this. 

Fantasy lied to me, but then again...

Who was I to blame the untrue? 

Fantasy isn't real, it's fake. It's what we want to believe, what we want to happen, what we want to be real.

What we want. 

I sat up in the mess of hay, my hair going all staticky with it. 

What I want is to be with my family, my whole family, and for these elves go die in a forsaken hole. 

If it weren't for them, my brother and father would be alive. My mother wouldn't be suffering from crippling depression and anxiety. I'd have real friends, a real home, a real life. 

I stood up and wiped the tears off my face. This wasn't some sob story, I'm not a helpless teenage girl. 

Am I even a human girl? If Matt was, I mean, is an elf, does that mean..? 

I looked down at my hands, saw them shaking. No, I can't be, that's impossible. Even that wretched prince called me a human girl. 

But what if he was lying? 

I shook my head in defiance. This isn't the time to think about that, I have more important things to worry about. 

Like murdering the prince. 

There's got to be some way I can get out of this place, a vent or a break in the metal bars or-

I spotted light coming in through the wall.

Or a crack in the brick, that works too. 

I reached in with my hand and attempted to pull a piece of the brick out. 

Nothing.

Well I'm stupid, of course that wouldn't work. 

I sat down on the floor, discouraged and angry with myself for letting my hopes up. 

Then, I saw a guard walk by. Maybe...I can convince him to let me out. That sounded like an even stupider idea, but I was getting desperate. Hopefully he was the oblivious type...

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me?"

The guard stopped in mid-march and turned towards me, making his way over. 

"Is there something that you might be needin', Miss?"

"Uh...yes, I was wondering if you..."

Wait a second, did he just speak in a British accent?

I took a closer look at the guy; he was fairly tall, looked to be around his mid-sixties, had flamboyant orange hair that was curled at the bottom, and a well-groomed mustache that matched the color of his hair. 

In all honesty, he looked like a British butler. Was he really an elf?

The man seemed to notice I'd stopped talking. "Was there something you wanted to ask me or not?" 

"Umm, yeah, sorry. I'm really thirsty, could you let me out for some water?" 

The guy considered me with a raised eyebrow as he groomed his mustache with his fingers. 

"Mmm...I could bring it to you if you like! It would save you the trip of usin' your legs!" 

Was this guy serious?

"Well, actually, I forgot that I dropped something on the way here, could you let me out to find it?"

"Oh, what does it look like?" he asked, "I could most probably find it! I have very keen eyesight!" 

I coughed into my hand. "I'm sure you do, but it's a very personal relic..."

"Well, why did you bring it here of all places?" he practically yelled. 

"Coran!" I heard another voice call out, "Do you honestly want everyone to hear you?!" 

A boy who looked to be in his late teens came around the corner, holding what looked like a cleaning bucket and rag. He had short, dark brown, unruly hair that hung over his ocean-blue eyes a little. He was tall and lanky, but also under-fed. His skin was the color of a just-barely toasted marshmallow. 

"What are you doing, talking to a prisoner! Remember what the Lieutenant did the last time you did that?"

The older man instinctively grabbed his left wrist protectively, but between his fingers I could see slit marks in his skin. I inwardly flinched, I wasn't the only one being abused by the upper-classman. 

The younger boy looked at me, his expression turning from worry to shock. 

"It's...you."