The Princess, The Knight, and The Monster

Part One

In a fairy-tale, you need a princess in distress, a knight, and a monster to slay. I'd been the knight and slain the monster; I'd stolen the crown for myself, yet with all of that, I'd fallen short of the fairy-tale.

I sat cross legged on the cold floor, my chin propped up on the cushioned bench beneath my window at home. I'd been staring at the moon's outline through the curtains for the past two hours, following its precise movements as it descended towards the horizon.

I'd come to a realization. Fairy-tales didn't exist. Not in the way I wanted them to.

I glanced down at my scarred arm. In the darkness, it almost appeared as if my skin was unblemished. I lingered for a moment. Some perverse part of me wanted to put an end to the beauty of the moment so I crawled on my knees until I reached my nightstand. I reached up and pulled on the jewelled lever of my lamp, cowering away from the stark, white light until I was backed into a corner.

I hurriedly stood and looked around. The silence, the dark room, the memories; it was all too much. I went to the door, twisted the knob to make sure it was locked and then twisted it again. I strolled to the window, drew the blinds closed and placed a small chest full of books under the window. I walked around again, repeating the knob and blind routine, checking it all, before clambering into bed.

Even with the doors locked, the blinds closed and two sets of blankets surrounding me in a cocoon, I couldn't sleep. I stared at the door and waited, drifting off to sleep to see him bearing down on me with sharp, bloody teeth and eager hands. I was soon awake again, staring at the door. The process lasted until sunrise with my family's footsteps thundering around the house and the noisy croon of King Sunny Ade overpowering the birds' cooing

As the morning went on, it was easy to pretend I was all right, and actually believe it. The hot shower cleared my muscles of their tension, my sister's ramblings about the sixth grade distracted me and the rush of morning hour traffic to school helped generate a skewed sense of anticipation for the day.

I swerved into the parking lot and pulled into the spot closest to the back entrance. I gathered my things and rushed for the doors. With it being only the third week of school, the teachers still patrolled the halls heavily. From a distance, I saw Mrs. Walters' saxophone-shaped figure bearing down on me with her notepad in hand and teeth bared in an eager grimace.

"Ms. Lolade Jones!" She sang as she approached me. "Two minutes!"

I kept on walking, faster and faster until I was just a few steps short of a jog. I took a sharp left turn, and clipped the wall with my shoulder. Seeing the classroom in the distance, I broke out into a sprint.

I collided with a hard back as I made it just past the door. "Sorry," I apologized as I stumbled back into the wall. The figure in front of me turned and revealed itself to be none other than Elliott Stone. The breath was stolen from my lungs as I gazed up at him, trailing quick glances over his body, as I did every time we saw each other in class. Again I memorized his black curls against brown, copper toned skin, slightly crooked boxer's nose, bright brown eyes and vampire smile.

"Lola." He checked me out as he backed away to his desk. I took my seat directly opposite him on the other side.

Mr. O'Hare, our AP Calc teacher, greeted the class and began roll-call for the day. As I dug into my backpack for my notebook and pen, the heat of someone's stare burned into my skin. Looking right, I saw no one. A quick glance to the left yielded nothing either. Slowly, I lifted my gaze ahead, to the other side of the room and found Elliott, staring intently at me. I held his gaze, willing him to look away but he didn't. Only the sound of Mr. O'Hare's booming voice calling his name tore him away.