Kidnapping The Princess (Editing For Publication) (lesbian, girlxgirl)

Chapter 2. Bits and Pieces

Chapter 2. Bits and Pieces

“When we grow up, you’ll be my prince,” she said while laughing gleefully. I took one of the flowers from the grass. All kinds of them were scattered there between us. I tucked the flower on the side of her ear. She looked pretty for a 6 year old.

“I can’t be your prince. I’m a girl,” I told her. “We both are.”

She snickered and held my eyes. “Sometimes Prince Charming is a princess.”

I woke up in surprise and quickly realized that I fell from my bed. With a loud groan, I hauled myself up and stood on my feet. That dream again huh? It was so vivid this time. It was as if she was right there with me. Like it was just yesterday when we were. My train of thought was stopped when I heard the princess calling out.

She didn’t know this but my room was just across from her. My real room was actually a floor below, but I’ve been sleeping in the spare bedroom nowadays. You know, just in case.

“Miss kidnapper,” she said loudly. “Are you there? Yoohoo!”

I shook my head in disdain and grabbed the white tee on the bed. I wore it quickly before going out of the spare room and punching the code for the metal door to enter her holding area. The princess sat on the floor hugging her knees.

“What do you want?” I asked with a frown. “You ruined my sleep.”

“For someone so pretty, you have a foul attitude,” she said and pouted. I stifled a smile and leaned against the door. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“Give me a break,” she mumbled. “Don’t fish for compliments because you’re not getting more from me.” I stared hard at her and scanned her body. She lost a pound or two. I’ve been feeding her good food for two weeks, maybe she was depressed. She looked pale too. Her usually pink lips were dull, and her honey colored hair was not set into a half braid.

“What’s wrong? Why did you call for me?”

“Aside from the fact that you’re holding me hostage here?” she mocked and glared at me. “Miss kidnapper. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been inside this room for the last two weeks. I’ve been cooped up inside this room too much that I think I’m going crazy.” She raised her arms in defeat. “You rarely talk to me and God knows what you’re doing on the other side of that door.” She hugged her knees again. “I give up. If you want to kill me, just do it. This is torture.”

“I already told you that I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then please talk to me,” she said in frustration. “I can’t stand this. Sitting around in this room doing nothing is maddening. Please,” she whispered. “If there is an ounce of humanity left in you, please talk to me.”

Those puppy dog eyes of hers got me walking to her. I sat down on her left side. “What do you want to talk about?” She scratched the wooden floor with her nail. “I don’t know. Tell me about you. And please don’t give me that crap about being my kidnapper and all. Even if you tell me things about your life, I won’t be able to do anything about it.”

I decided what I could and couldn’t tell her. Just a teensy bit of information wouldn’t hurt. I faced her and crossed my legs. “I grew up in England.”

She turned her head to me and I could see the surprise in her gray eyes. “You did? But you don’t have an accent.”

“That’s because I went there when I was around ten. My adoptive parents took me to their country and raised me there.”