Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I didn’t.
It was the worst time of my life.
Each night he would come into my bedroom and relay the story about the princess who needed so much more than anyone else could give her.
He would tell me how she begged the dragon to take her, to steal her away and keep her locked in a tower where they would play games all day. I was much younger and trying to understand why he was telling me these things, and it was only on my fifteenth birthday I realized the truth.
There was so much more to the story than meets the eye. You wouldn’t know it until it was explained in fine detail. As the princess, I wanted more. The attention he gave me made me happy, but it wasn’t the right kind. I didn’t realize until the night he made sure I knew what a monster he was.
Then it was too late to refuse it. He said he would hurt me worse than him stealing my purity, if I told him no. I tried to fight back, which was when he told me I would regret it because I would be labeled as the problem. At the time, I believed him. I didn’t want people to think of me as a liar, so I allowed it to happen.
Even when I wanted to cry.
Even when I begged him to stop.
He didn’t. There was no longer a right or wrong in his eyes. Everything he did was for the greater good. He told me it would all make sense when I was older. He was convinced what he was doing was right. Later I learned about his connection to the vile criminals he worked for, and a light shone on the dark memories which plagued me.
The night before I learned of his true intentions, he said he would make sure nobody would get the one part of me men craved. I knew what he meant because I’d overheard girls at school talking.
I was never allowed out with boys.
My father told me I was special. For a long time, I believed him.
But I wasn’t.
All he saw when he looked at me was a chess piece. He moved me around, toyed with me, and used me up until there were no more moves left. I was promised. My life would become nothing more than a bargaining chip which my father used to ensure his safety.
He didn’t care I would be sent off with a man twice or three times my age.
He laughed at the thought. Because he would have taken a girl my age and enjoyed it. The men he worked with didn’t care about much, especially how young the women, or girls, were when they bought and sold them.
A bartering deal between dangerous devils.
While girls were the currency.
I flop on the bed as I recall every vile memory. It’s like a movie reel playing in my mind. It repeats, over and over again. Images flash across my eyelids, like a large screen, bright and telling. It spews a story filled with lies.
Tears and pleas.
Grunts and moans.
Even as pain took hold, the princess begged to stop feeling, to leave this earth. She wanted nothing more than to escape, but the dragon held her hostage. She could run, perhaps find solace with three bears who would love her endlessly. Or she could find a prince with a red rose dying slowly as he lost his own life.
But none of those were real.
Those girls were nothing more than fabrications in the minds of authors. Real life is nothing like those books. I used to flick the pages excitedly. I knew soon after falling in love with books, my story wouldn’t end with a happily ever after.
I would be devoured by the monster.
I would be captured by the villain.
Now, as exhaustion takes a hold of me, I know my dragon has been slayed, but he’ll be back to find me.
It doesn’t matter how long it takes.
CHAPTER ONE
LUCILLE
Present Day
Frustration burns through me as I pick up my cell phone and log into my social media accounts. Photos of the parties happening on summer break annoy me. My friends are out having fun while my mother forces me to work this part time job.
Sighing, I leave my phone on the sofa before heading into the kitchen. I can’t be angry at her though. She’s a single mom who needs to put food on the table. She does her best for me, and I know it. I’m sour-faced because I know I could be out there enjoying my birthday if my father wasn’t such a weasel.
Nothing more than a waste of space, he walked out when I was ten. I remember his face each time he needed to go to work. It was his excuse. My mother was already doing double shifts at the hospital when he walked out, and I was left to my own devices while she worked.