"Elizabeth!" my father yells from the living room. "Yes father?" I called back. "Did you receive your report card today?" he questioned. "Yes, I did." I responded. I knew he wasn't going to be happy. He's never happy. I haven't looked at it yet. "Why wasn't I told this?" he shouted angrily. "I don't know sir, I'm sorry sir." I replied being careful to call him sir. When he gets mad, he gets madder when I don't say sir. It's become a habit at this point. "Bring it to me!" He said, once again, yelling. I scrambled to my feet racing to my backpack to find it. I pulled it out rushing through the corridor to the living room where my father sat. I slowed down before teaching the room to appear calm and elegant. My father says that's how a princess should act. I handed him the report card. I placed my hands behind my back as I've been instructed to do since I was five. I tapped my foot lightly as a nervous tic. I was unaware I was doing so at the moment, until my father told me to stop with giving me as much as a glance.
I stopped immediately, scolding myself internally knowing it would simply make my situation worse. "A ninety-eight." My father replied monotone. Now, this could either way. He could either flip out, or he could simply say that he's proud of me. Well, I can predict the future now. He's gonna flip out. Not once in my life of my seventeen years of living has he ever been proud of me. He was disappointed when I cried as a newborn. Harsh, I know. "I'm disappointed in you Elizabeth." Called it. "You, are a princess. You are in the public eye. Everyone, can see you. Do you think anyone would want you to lead them? Even if you'll never be on that throne, you are still representing our family. They'll say we're bad parents. No college will want you. Do you hear me?" He sternly told me, as my eyes were glued to my shoes.
See, there is never anything I can do in these situations. Believe me, I've had a lot of experience. So I've decided on the one reply I use while talking to my father. "Yes sir. I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again." There we go. Conflict resolve-. "That's not good enough this time!" He hit me hard in the cheek. I continued to look down. "Look at me when I'm talking to you Elizabeth!" Great. I looked up and to lock my eyes on his shoulder, praying not to have to make eye contact. He grabbed my chin roughly and looked in my eyes. " Look at me Elizabeth! What? Are you scared of me?" I heard someone walk in behind us.
My father looks up. "Alan. That's
enough." I recognized the voice to be my mother's. I returned my gaze to my feet. "Why don't you go get a drink? I'll be right there." My father grunts lightly, but surrendered and walked out of the room. My mother then looks at me, and says "Go back to your room. I'll be in soon." I looked up at her, nodded slightly, and gratefully retreated to my room. I sat down on my bed. I heard a sob. The another and a another. It was me. There were tears streaming down my face and I couldn't stop it. Then they came back.
Author's note: You made it this far, so congratulations and thank you! There's probably going to be one of these at the end of every chapter. I'm writing this story literally only because I just watched it. I figured it might be interesting to read. Maybe not. Let me know if there's something I should change. Bye!-Your loving author.
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The Next Generation (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals Fan-Fiction)
FanfictionThe voices. They came back. Hundreds of them. They were all yelling and getting louder. I've had occurrences like this one before, just not as bad. I think anxiety triggers it. I would be naive to peg it simply as an anxiety attack though. I haven't...
