This Isn't Me

The Wrath Of A King

 A/N: Warning. This does contains brief scenes of abuse. Proceed with caution if this is a trigger for you. Please vote and comment.

"Now what are you doing?" My father growled like the monsters that keep me up at night.

     "N-Nothing Father." I looked at the ground, but even then I wasn't hidden. His shadow is a cold blanket on top of me.

     He marched toward my mother. She look like she was cold as she shivered in place. His voice boomed, "You ungrateful women. What have you done to her? She is supposed to be a princess!"

     "She is just a child." My mother quietly argued back. It wasn't good enough though. My father raised his hand and I closed my eyes. I know what happens now. It always happens because I think they don't know what love feels like.

   The sound of the hit echoed along with something hitting the ground. Did he kill her? I opened my eyes to see my mother lying on the ground crying softly. It hurts me to see her like this. I wish I'd not been born because then they wouldn't fight like this. Father gave a good kick before turning towards me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me off.

     "Ow! You are hurting me!" I cried out. I tried to keep up, but he was too fast for me.

     "Hush child. You know your place." He didn't even look at me, but proceeded as if my voice didn't matter. I didn't complain though. Father has fire. It keeps him alive when he fights in the arena.

     I think he hates me and I have this emotion I don't know yet. I don't love him, but I don't not not love him. I will have to ask Mistress Teacher about it later. Father won't let me see Mother again until she has learned from her mistakes. I don't understand it, but all the helpers say it's a grown up thing.

     Father didn't drag me inside like he usually does. He dragged me over to the place I train with my wooden sword.

     "Prove yourself, Rosetta. This is your chance." He drew his sword and I lifted my wooden one from the place I left it.

     I instinctively got in position. Father didn't go easy on me. He gave it his all. I was disarmed quickly. I rushed for my weapon, but he knocked me back with the hilt of his sword. I fell onto the ground hard. A rock sharply jabbed in my shoulder. I started crying from the pain. Father's sword was a hair away from my chest when he froze.

     Drawing it back, he said, "Maybe it's time you train with something harder. Then you will actually have some luck. I'll put in for a set of swords. You will practice with all of them until you can master all of them." Then he walked off.

     As soon as he was out of sight, my personal guard rushed over to help me up. I was still crying and the back of my shoulder was now wet for some reason.  My guard picked me up to carry me off to the infirmary. Next time I will stay in my place.