Forbidden Enchantment (Book One)

Forbidden Enchantment: Chapter Three

[So here is chapter three! Dedicated to Shcallywag!! Yes, Shcallywag! xD This chapter should prove to you that the characters are straight! LOL! Enjoy people!] 

Recap...

 Please God, help me. I know I don’t usually pray, put sometimes You make it so hard. But I’m trying, really, I am. Can you please make the world rid of orphans? I pray for the children to stop suffering, all over the world. They are ignored way too much, so can you please help them? And help me? Please. I would love some peace; thank you.

And with that I felt into a deep slumber. 

Chapter Three: Welcome to Elizabeth Keene High

 Morning in Perfectsville went a little something like this: I was awoken by Missus Betty No-Last-Name at precisely eight o’clock on the dot. She would come into my room, tiptoe up to my bed and whisper the same four words to me each time-‘Time for breakfast, dear’.

Yes, mother hen.

For some reason or another, I was not what anyone could call a heavy sleeper, and could wake up from the slightest stir-even the sound of light footfalls on a carpet within a metre or two radius. I also found it difficult to fall back asleep, because Betty-being the wonderful person she was-had a habit of pulling the heavy, maroon curtains wide open, allowing streams of sunshine to blast into the room.

What made my mornings so memorable, however, was not the screams, but the lack of screams. Each day I woke up, without knowing how my night had gone by so peacefully. It did not give me a feeling of hope inside though, and make me think that maybe, just maybe, this was the end of the horrifying night mares. You see, that was too good to be true. I had grown up with these night mares and the concept of never having to deal with them anymore just didn’t occur to me. It wasn’t a possibility; what was a possibility was learning to cope with them-which after my seventeen years on planet earth-I still had not accomplished.

You would be expecting me to be relieved then, even in the slightest, but if you had been paying attention to anything I had already said, you would know that assumptions rarely worked with me. So no, I didn’t feel relieved. I felt scared, really, really scared. I felt that the lack of night mares would mean that something much more powerful, much more deathly, was on the horizon.

Whatever it was, I was not willing to find out. I was now in the calm before the storm.

I did my best to rid myself of these thoughts, and concentrated hard on carrying out the everyday tasks involved in living in Hotel de Betty-mainly, eating. Each day at breakfast, I would pile my plate with bagels, cream cheese, jam, toast, cereal, waffles, baked beans and then some. A few gallons of orange juice and tea to bring it all down, and voila! My stomach was instantly fighting the urge to explode.

You see, at this point, I am expecting you to think that I was a very large person, but keeping with tradition, I wasn’t. Not to say that I had a metabolism on high speed, but I had my eating trends. Some days, like these, I could eat enough for a horse as my appetite never seemed to be quenched, but on other days, I ate virtually nothing. Maybe a few snacks during the day, but that was it, really. This happened when I fell into depression, which usually came in tune with the night mares. Lots of nightmares meant depression, which resulted in my lack of appetite. Although these days were short and few, they had my weight falling erratically, and my clothes always seemed too big. But at times like now, my clothes filled back up. It was like a cycle for me, in a way.   

Today was my last day in Perfectsville. My suitcase and bags were at the foot of the stairs, ready to be taken into the boot of Mark’s Audi. The week had gone by-if not rather slowly-and now it was time to leave, for another new beginning.