Protect The Crown✔ | Editing | Rewriting | NaNo22

Thirty Five

TRIGGER WARNING: surface talks about suicide (didn't want to go too deep into it)

also wrote this listening to In My Blood by Shawn Mendes.

~happy reading!~

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Numbness. Nothingness. Darkness.

That was all I felt. All I could feel. I couldn't fucking think, believe or even process shit. My body had finally shut the fuck down. Besides, after what I'd found out last night, it wasn't like I'd exactly tried to fight it. What even was the point?

So I'd welcomed it with open arms, succumbing to the darkness I once thought I'd escaped.

A snort escaped my lips. Clearly, I'd thought wrong.

The cold Sunday morning found me in my old worn out clothes —the ones I'd brought with me— on my bathroom floor, staring into nothing but thin air. The rest of the royal family had gone to church; a tradition for Christians on Sundays and a necessity for the monarchy.

But I'd stayed home, not giving two shits about what they or anyone thought. Most especially Kristina who, as expected, had tried to fight me on my freedom of movement when I just wanted —needed to be alone.

To be with the darkness.

The only thing I knew. The only thing that hadn't ever let me down. Ever. Even when, time and time again, countless humans had. Even when my joy —my life— had been snatched away from me before I could even understand the world.

From endless maltreatments to continuous gaslighting to emotional manipulations to seventeen rejections and Willow's death.

The darkness had always been there for me.

And no one, not even Madison, could take that from me. It'd always be there.

I forced a laugh on remembering the shitty night I'd seen Xavier with Felice. A lifetime ago. The pain I'd felt afterwards. I laughed again. I really thought that that was the worst thing I'd ever felt?

I muffled my dry laughter with my hands as it transitioned to heavy labored breathing with gravity pulling even further as the reality of my fucked up life sunk in deep. And fast.

What did I even do to deserve this shit?

Ever since I'd finally comprehended the circumstances surrounding my early life, ever since that neighbor had taken me in and I'd watched her from the doorway as she hugged her kids and told them how much she loved them...all I'd ever wanted was someone to love me too. For someone to see through me and understand that I was just a hurting child.

That I was just as human as they all were.

But as the years passed by, I came to realize that only people that could ever truly love me were dead and gone. For good.

I'd made peace with that fact. Accepted it for what it was. Accepted that life or fate —whichever of the fucked up two— in their unorthodox way had decided this was how they wanted to start the story of my life.

And then to suddenly confirm that they'd both...to find out that I could've had...

It broke me just thinking about it. Who the hell did these people think they were?

Shawn had been fucking right when he talked politicians and rich people the other day on the phone. He was right as fucking hell. I'd been adopted for a reason. Not just one, but many reasons linked with each other.