Freedom from the Golden City

Being born into wealth was expected to bring comfort and love, but my experience was quite different. As the first child of King Valor and Queen Mirabella, my parents, I was showered with an abundance of affection. Money was never an issue for them, and they granted my every wish. When the time came, they enrolled me in the finest school, where I mingled with children from the wealthiest families. However, everything changed when my sister was born. Despite being four years older than her, she resembled me so closely that we could pass for twins. When she turned 12, she joined the same school as me and instantly became the center of attention. The girls, in particular, were captivated by her exquisite dresses, which outshone my own signature red or black attire. Her wardrobe consisted of beautiful pink and white ensembles, causing the girls to clamor for the name of her stylist. Initially, I disregarded the newfound attention she received, until it began to infiltrate our home.

Since the day she was born, they instantly fell in love with her. They assigned her my previous room and even hired numerous individuals to assist her in redesigning it. At the age of 8, she had captivated everyone’s hearts. I experienced a sense of sadness when she began to alter my room; it was disheartening to witness the erasure of all the cherished memories. Memories such as my mother comforting me during nightmares or my father surprising me on my birthday with a precious necklace, a genuine ruby, my absolute favorite. She effortlessly stole all the attention. As I turned 14 and she turned 10, the situation worsened. Despite being a teenager, it seemed as though I had never been 13, as my parents only started to show concern once I reached 14. This perplexed me greatly, perhaps because I still had two years until I turned 16. Deprived of my parents’ love and attention, I began to rebel against their instructions and disregarded everything they said. Consequently, my grades began to decline, leading to their outbursts of anger towards me. When I turned 16, I resorted to smoking cigarettes as a means to cope with stress. One night, while I was in my room working on math homework that was causing me immense anxiety, my father abruptly entered, followed closely by my sister, Victoria, her hand pressed against her cheek.

“Morana. Did you strike your sister?” He inquired, his voice brimming with fury. Despite my sister being only twelve, I had no qualms with her, although I wished she wouldn’t constantly steal my attention. I never fathomed that she despised me to such an extent that she would fabricate a story to Father, claiming I had hit her. Witnessing him in such a state of rage was truly petrifying, instilling fear within me. Suddenly, his gaze fixated on the cigarette nestled between my fingers. My heart ceased to beat as I extinguished the cigarette and discarded it. However, as soon as I did so, his hand clamped down on my wrist with an iron grip. 

“Was that a cigarette?!” He bellowed, causing me to flinch as I attempted to free myself from his grasp. 

“You never cease to disappoint me, Morana. I have grown weary of your foolishness!” His anger sent shivers down my spine. Uncertain of what to anticipate, his wrath was unlike anything I had ever encountered, leaving me unsure if he would resort to violence against me.

“Why would you strike your sister? Hm?” He implored, his grip on my wrist tightening. Yet, I found myself incapable of uttering a single word, lacking the courage to proclaim my innocence. My voice had abandoned me, my heart pounding in my ears and tears welling in my eyes.

“Speak!” His hand made contact with my cheek before I could react, the sound echoing through the room as a red handprint appeared on my face. The ringing in my ears made it difficult to process what had just happened. Suddenly, my mother burst into the room, yelling at him and ushering him and my sister out. I couldn’t hear her words over the persistent ringing, leaving me frozen and unsure of what to do. As my mother’s gentle hand landed on my shoulder, I flinched involuntarily. Turning to face her, tears streamed down my cheeks. Her expression softened, a rare display of affection from her. It was the first time in years, since Victoria’s birth, that my mother had shown me any love or attention. It felt comforting, something I had longed for. However, it took my father’s slap for her to finally acknowledge me.

“Mora, are you alright, my dear?” Her gentle voice, reminiscent of the lullabies she used to sing to me in my childhood, resonated in my ears. My breath caught in my throat, and tears streamed down my face as I broke down, filling the room with my cries. My mother embraced me tightly, providing solace as I sobbed. We remained in that embrace for hours until exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted into a deep slumber. When I awoke the next morning, she was gone, and I knew deep down that it was only a temporary respite. My hopes had been raised, only to be shattered once again. 

Days passed, and both my father and mother ceased speaking to me. It was as if my mother’s comforting presence had never existed. My father’s attention was solely focused on Victoria. School continued as usual, and my grades remained inferior to Victoria’s, but I had reached a point where I no longer cared. The recent events with my father had drained me of all my energy, leaving me devoid of any motivation. However, this morning felt different. There were whispers, more than usual. Given my father’s wealth and the multitude of enemies he possesses, I chose not to dwell on it and carried on with my day. Yet, an unsettling feeling lingered within me, as if someone or something was watching my every move. As I made my way to my beloved English class, a sudden collision with a young man caused me to stumble and fall to the ground. A soft groan escaped my lips as I instinctively clutched my corset. Our eyes met, and I rose to my feet, brushing off my dress while fixing him an intense glare.

I muttered angrily, “Pay attention to where you’re going.” As I attempted to walk away, his hand forcefully gripped my shoulder. I maintained a serious expression as I met his gaze.

“Be careful with your words, you insolent woman. I would teach you a lesson by smacking you but looks like your father already has.” A slight evil grin appeared on his face. My eyes widened in surprise. The remark was not anticipated. Instinctively, my hand rose to my cheek, where I absentmindedly rubbed it. This morning, I hadn’t checked if the mark was still visible, but evidently, maybe it was. How else would he have known? Unless Victoria told him, I wasn’t too sure about anything right now. Anger surged through my veins, causing my fists to clench tightly by my side. After a brief pause, I struck his face with my fist, his body falling to the ground. Everyone’s eyes were on me. Violence was never my nature; I couldn’t afford to be. Being the daughter of a wealthy family, it would tarnish not only their reputation but also mine. However, in the moment, I was overwhelmed by the emotions stemming from everything that had transpired. The anger and sadness built up to a point where I had to release it. He deserved to face the consequences for disrespecting me. Before I could fully comprehend what I just did, a teacher intervened and forcefully pulled me away from him. 

“Detention right now, Miss Morana!” he shouted angrily in my face. I forcefully pulled my hand away from his grip, still filled with rage. I then made my way to the detention room. As I sat down, I adjusted my dress and removed my corset, placing it on the table. It was unbearably tight, and I despised it more than anything. But my mother always said, “Beauty is pain.” Hours passed and I unintentionally dozed off. When I woke up, I glanced out the window and noticed that it was already dark outside. Letting out a sigh, I picked up my corset and left the classroom. The school was engulfed in darkness, momentarily instilling fear within me. Yet, I suppressed it and managed to exit the school premises. I detested the darkness, the unknown entities that could be lurking, and the people. Taking a deep breath, I walked beyond the school grounds and along the sidewalk, traversing through the bustling city. 

Before I knew it, I found myself in the most dangerous part of town. It was even darker than usual, with a few shadowy figures lurking about. The air reeked of cigars, creating an eerie atmosphere. I was almost out of the area when I heard someone whisper my name, causing my heart to sink. Swallowing my fear, I turned around and spotted a figure in the alleyway. I couldn’t recognize the person, as they were dressed entirely in black, and the darkness obscured their features. I watched as they took a step closer to me, feeling like my heart was going a million miles per hour.

“Lady Morana, you cannot run forever, you are aware of that, aren’t you?” The voice, deep and intimidating, would unsettle any woman in solitude. Judging by the voice and his imposing stature, it was evident that the speaker was a man. As he stepped directly in front of me, my gaze met his. His gloved hand caressed my bare shoulder, causing my breath to tremble with panic. What did he mean by those words? I had no known adversaries. It suddenly dawned on me that my father had accumulated more enemies than I could fathom. Perhaps this man was acquainted with my father, but even then, I couldn’t comprehend his cryptic statement about my inability to escape indefinitely. If I were to be honest, it frightened me. However, I had been contemplating running away for the past few weeks. I could no longer bear the presence of my father or my sister. My mind was overwhelmed with a multitude of thoughts, reaching a point of sheer exhaustion. Amidst the chaos, I recalled a particular night when I had been packing my bags, preparing to leave. Was he observing me that night? Could I possibly have a stalker? 

“Stop watching me,” I managed to utter in a low growl before swiftly turning on my heels and sprinting away as fast as I could. Eventually, I reached the safety of my house and forcefully shut the door behind me. Rushing upstairs, I hastily gathered the clothes I had previously removed from my bags and hastily stuffed them back in. Grabbing my belongings, I descended the stairs, luckily everyone had fallen asleep but still, I ventured to the back door in case, going into the garden.

I had been walking for what seemed like an eternity, my legs aching and on the verge of giving out. I decided to take off my heels to ease the pain in my feet, and then continue walking, determined not to turn back, especially with a potential stalker lurking behind me. Suddenly, I caught sight of a glimmer of light up ahead. After hours of following the path, the sight of that light filled me with a sense of joy. As I passed through a cluster of trees, I stumbled upon a quaint little village. It was small, unlike anything I was accustomed to, but it had an undeniable charm. Each house seemed perfectly suited for its occupants, and the soft, gentle glow of lights created a warm ambiance that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I stood there, captivated by the beauty of the village, until I felt someone’s gaze upon me. It was a man, disheveled and wearing tattered clothes. The bucket he held indicated that he had been engaged in some messy tasks before seeing me. Yet, despite his unkempt appearance, I found it endearing. A blush crept onto my cheeks, and I quickly averted my gaze to the ground. Just then, he began walking towards me, intensifying my nervousness. I had never felt this way around any man before; he was different.

“Lady Morana? What are you doing here? Your cheeks are red, are you okay?’ he quickly spoke anxiously as his callused hand grazing my forehead to check for a fever. It made my heart skip a beat, but I managed to compose myself and clear my throat.

“Oh, um…yes. I apologize for intruding. I’ve been walking for quite some time. Would it be possible for me to stay here? If that’s alright?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He chuckled softly before taking hold of my hand and leading me further into the village. I could feel the eyes of everyone upon me as if they all knew who I was. It was overwhelming, but I pushed aside the feeling and continued to follow him, allowing him to guide me. Eventually, he brought me into one of the small houses. It exuded a cozy atmosphere, reminiscent of autumn or fall. It felt welcoming, unlike my own room back home, which was overly extravagant and didn’t reflect my true self. But this place felt like home. I let my eyes wander around, taking in the comforting surroundings. 

“You don’t need to ask. You’re Lady Morana! Everyone adores you here, or at least I do. You are welcome to stay with me. I witnessed a faint smile spread across his face, and it filled my heart with warmth. I was accustomed to insincere smiles, the ones I had to put on for photographs or the ones my family wore to portray happiness in public. It was refreshing to see a genuine smile, and it even brought a smile to my own face. I settled myself onto a small chair, there were two small beds against the walls, a small desk, and some lit candles.

“Did you leave your home…? Or just happened to be visiting?” he asked softly. We spent the rest of the evening discussing it, and I confided in him about my troubles. It made me feel secure for once. I never expected to encounter such a kind-hearted person in a village. I had my reservations that most people harbored resentment towards the wealthy and would seize any opportunity to steal from them. But he was different, and I liked him, adored even.

Several days had passed, and I continued to stay in the village, residing in the gentleman’s house. During my time with him, Brandon, as he was called, I familiarized myself with the village’s way of life. I assisted with household chores and formed friendships with the locals, who were all sweet and compassionate individuals. However, one day, a sense of unease settled deep within me, as if something ominous was about to occur, and I couldn’t shake off the feeling. Even Brandon noticed I seemed off throughout the entire day, as he repeatedly inquired about my well-being. Despite his concern, I brushed him off, insisting that I was fine. As night fell, I remained on high alert, uncertain whether my intuition was accurate or if it was merely my usual paranoia. While changing clothes in Brandon’s hut, I sensed a presence behind me. I had just finished putting on one of Brandon’s shirts, as he kindly lent me his clothes until I had the chance to wash my own or purchase new ones from the city, considering all I had were dresses and skirts. I turned around and came face to face with the same man from the alleyway. My heart skipped a beat; he was still dressed in all black, wearing that same mask. My breaths became shaky as I scrutinized him from head to toe. 

“I warned you, my dear, you can’t run forever. You know…since you vanished from home, he hasn’t noticed. Your sister has him wrapped around her little finger…” his voice was raspier than usual, making my heart beat quicken and pound. 

His voice resonated with a menacing tone as he uttered, “I could end your life and he wouldn’t bat an eye…” The words sent a chill down my spine, leaving me paralyzed with uncertainty. My body refused to respond, rendering me incapable of forming a coherent response. Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted in my stomach, causing me to instinctively clutch the object that had pierced me—a knife. My gaze fixated on the weapon as blood oozed from my wound, staining my hands crimson. A feeble groan escaped my lips as I collapsed onto the bed, struggling to catch my breath while blood trickled from the corners of my mouth, accompanied by violent coughing. In that moment, Alex, one of Brandon’s friends, stormed into the room, seething with anger. 

“I knew something was off about you,” he muttered under his breath, swiftly removing the assailant from the premises. The sound of muffled yelling filled my ears, drowning out any attempt by Brandon to come to my aid. Gradually, my eyelids grew heavy, and I succumbed unconsciousness. When I eventually regained consciousness, I found Brandon by my side, his hand gently clasping mine as his thumb caressed the back of my palm. I discovered myself in the modest infirmary within the village. Closing my eyes, I directed my thoughts towards healing, focusing on the present moment. MY feelings towards my father has transformed, fueled by realization that I had come perilously close to losing my life because of him. With a sigh, I surrendered to a deep slumber.