The Story Of A Past Best Left Forgotten

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Lizzy rushed up to me to put an arm around my shoulders and out of Henry's warm and strong embrace that I didn't expect to enjoy as much as I did, but that was something I could think about later.

"W-what about my p-past?" I managed to stutter out and I saw the dark haired girl roll her eyes at me in my peripheral vision.

I decided then and there that if I was going to fit in and be normal, I had to toughen up. They would eat me alive if I didn't.

I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders, as much as I could on my crutches, hoping that it would give the illusion that I was stronger than the words printed about me.

"Your boyfriend, Daniel. They're all saying that you and the Prince have been an item now in secret, and that you're cheating on him with some American soldier Daniel!"

The words rushed by me in a blur and all of my faux strength dissipated from my body as I felt my legs crumple beneath me.

"Daniel is- Daniel died overseas, fighting for his country. He died. He will have been dead three years in April. I'm not dating anyone, how can I cheat on someone I'm not even in a relationship with?!" I managed to cry out, and one look at Lizzy told me that she understood my problem but there was no way to get me out of it.

"I know, you told me. But the thing is...sweetie there's something that no one's told you."

I looked at her in confusion and she handed me her cell phone, and I felt my heart skyrocket out of my chest.

There in front of me was proof. Proof that my sweet, caring, loving and gentle Daniel wasn't really dead, but in reality was living it up in Las Vegas, Nevada at a gambling table according to the time stamp that read only a few days prior.

The next photo was of us, and I was absolutely much younger looking, to myself at least. The problem was that I hadn't changed physically all that much since I was fifteen, and that was money in the eyes of the paparazzi who'd concocted the story that we were still together, even though I hadn't known he was even alive until two seconds previously.

And lastly was a picture of Louis in his vehicle, and I was the person photographed jumping in right along with him.

I stopped thinking about anything else besides Daniel.

He'd been alive, all that time. Every tear I had shed, every single damn sob that turned into heartaching loneliness that turned into a depression that I almost couldn't pull myself out of, that turned into self loathing and pity towards myself because I couldn't get better because I thought I relied on Daniel to keep me happy, to keep me sane.

But no, all that time he'd been lying to every single person that loved him, and I was just another casualty.

"I have...I have to get out of here."

I looked at Lizzy one last time with terrified, panicked eyes and stole away from her comforting embrace, dropping my crutches on the ground in the process and received a nasty look from the mean girl whose name I didn't care to remember and a stony, stoic gaze from Henry, but most of all, a crestfallen look from Lizzy.

It wasn't her fault, I just couldn't fall apart with people watching my every move.

I tore down the front stone steps that led to the school building and stumbled a bit on a stray rock but nevertheless kept running.

I gripped my stinging ribcage in agony, but it wasn't enough to stop me from running, to stop me from getting out of there.

I knew which direction my new home was in, and it wasn't that far from my school.

If I just kept running, and pumping my arms as hard as I could and kept my breathing even, then I could become unraveled in the arms of my pillows and the mind of my bed and figure out what the hell was becoming of my life.

What, was my mother going to show up and say that she had staged her death as well? That she'd been alive the entire time and was simply waiting for the perfect time to strike to make her surprise entrance all the more dramatic?

I was starting to breathe heavy and I realized that I hadn't really ran anywhere since I was ten years old and I was playing in the yard with one of my friends. Needless to say I was not athletic in the slightest.

The tears came streaming down my face effortlessly, and the salty trail that they made on their way down was enough for the dam to burst and I was suddenly sobbing.

But still I kept going, the burning ache in my lungs enough to drive my pain, enough to force myself to forget about him for one splintering second and focus on the cramping in my legs and in my stomach just under my ribs.

It made me focus on what really mattered: the torture of knowing someone you loved had faked their death in the worst way possible.

I began coughing as my ribs became more and more distressed and finally I had to stop on the roadside, bending over to allow my breathing to come naturally again.

The sobs were just becoming too much and the hyperventilating and the sobbing turned into dry heaving, which turned into a pain that I'd never experienced before: pure, heartwrenching, gut bending and mind twisting agony that one only received from a betrayal that cut so deep there was nowhere for the pain to go but inside.

I only wanted it to end.

What I didn't expect, however, were the events that soon followed.

"I didn't think I'd see you bent over for me so quickly, especially since I have yet to forgive you for cheating on me, milady."

I turned around slowly, knowing that I recognized his voice immediately.

He was disheveled and so utterly handsome that it almost broke me again, but as soon as he took in my appearance, he jumped out of the car that he had stuck his head out of to talk to me from and ran to me, hands immediately going around my face quickly and I saw his eyes do a mental inventory of my face and my exposed arms and legs, probably checking me for injuries.  I was sure that he was thinking that I'd probably been mugged or something and that was why I was in such a bad way.

"What happened?"

I shook my head gently, my breath still ragged and shaking from the tears that had since slowed down considerably.

I took in his piercing cerulean eyes and gorgeous ruffled dark hair and wondered how I myself had gotten the attention of the crowned prince of England, but none of that mattered in that moment.

"Can you just take me home, please?" I asked him pleadingly, hoping that he wouldn't ask too many questions.

A thought struck me suddenly. He was royal, he had access to databases and intelligence that I could have only dreamed of. He could help me not only solve the Daniel mystery, but also work with me to take down Robert, the ghost of a stepfather that always haunted my every step.

I only hoped that he cared enough for me to see it through, becuase working with the Prince was my only hope for redemption, and possibly, survival.

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