One Hundred Years

One hundred years, it felt like.

You know, my life would be envied by anyone else. I wake up each morning surrounded by comfort and luxury. My only alarm is the birds chirping a simple tune, a hum in the background, barely a whisper, to a comfortable, yet utterly predictable day.

Naturally, at eight am there is a knock on my door. It will be the chef, having prepared a meal fit for royalty. I know this because it is the same every day. Monotonous. Delicious. Suffocating.

The chef strolls in, tray in hand. She bows casually, as this is as repetitive to her as it is to me. She smiles gently at me in my dishevelled state in my bed and rests the tray on the table.

“Breakfast is served, Your Highness.” She mumbles, almost incoherently, waiting for me to test the food to see if it is to my liking.

I sigh and pull myself out of bed, another day, another repetitive event. I examine the meal today, it’s Wednesday so it is exactly as I expect. Two poached eggs on muffins with salmon and hollandaise. It’s basic, but it used to be one of my favourites.

One plastic cup with two white pills every three hours until you can no –

Now it’s just a reminder of the schedule I live on in this room, in this tower. Part of me resents it all, the lock on the door, the chef, the guards. Yet I know it’s for my safety, until he comes and gets me. Rescues me. Saves me. I twist my golden bracelet around my wrist.

He will be tall and handsome and unexpected, mother said. He will climb through your window and whisk you away to the outside world. He will ride with you into the sunset, he will be everything you ever wanted and more. You will take his kiss as your first and marry him. Then, and only then, will you be free.

I miss mother. She was always reminding me of this. She kept me positive on the harder days, where I felt trapped and claustrophobic and all I wanted was to break down these stone walls with my bare hands until they were bloody and calloused and bruised. She would whisper it to me every evening. If not for her, I couldn’t stand another day here. I wish she would tell me once more when he was coming. Once –

‘Once upon a time’ is a story, not a fact. This is your reality, sh –

She told me that I would be the most beautiful Queen to rule the Kingdom. That is my destiny. It’s why every member of my staff is here with one duty, to protect the princess. They dare not step out of line, which means they never make casual conversation with me. It’s a lonely job, being in this position, but I accepted it. I was born into it and my –

Who are you to think about birth? That salted womb couldn’t keep a barnacle alive, let alone a –

Baby would be the next heir to the throne after me. It was my purpose in life, to not only rule, but to produce the heir. It was expected of me as the only child of the previous rulers. One day a prince will hand me a golden ring for my fourth finger, and I will be able to fulfil both of those duties. I already wrote every prince’s last name in my journal, it is only a matter of time until it becomes a reality. I look down at my manicured hands –

Broken fingernails. Torn out like splinters. Ripped like they didn’t belong. Like he didn’t belong inside you. Like when he came out the shade of those ink blots that spell nonsense in that book. Like when he came out with the wine that stained those laminate floors. Like wh –

Which were overdue for another shade of paint. They are currently a light pink, I want them to be a deep crimson next time. The shade of the sunset out the window. The window is quite small and located up too high on the tower to escape. It is the only natural light in my chamber, the walls –

White walls. White bed. White floor. Grey bars.

Framed it nicely in the wall, and it faced westerly so that I could watch the sunset every evening. I love gazing outside it, looking into the green fields filled with flowers, where my prince would carry me away upon his horse and we would be free.

Brick and smoke and graffiti ain’t fooling anybody but you, dear.

A knock on the door. Lunch already. I can already tell you what it will be. Liver pâté with a side of mixed meats and cheeses.

The chef enters, along with one of the guards this time. It isn’t unusual, sometimes they get bored of their posts and choose to accompany another member of the staff. The tray was set down and the chef bowed as usual and turned to check the food.

I feel something slide into my hand and realise that the guard has given me a piece of paper while the chef has her back to us. I look to him in confusion, but he just turns around and heads out of the room. The chef clears her throat and I stuff my hand into my pocket.

Time for another dose. The voices in your head are getting rowdy again. Ha.

“Thank you.” I nod at the chef and eat my lunch. They leave.

I’m alone again. I’m always alone. Other than the occasional visits from the chef and the guards, there is an emptiness here. Around me, inside me. I tire of it. I wish for that escape, and I wish for it now. I pull the paper out of my pocket, my bracelet jingles softly.

Wanna get out? Don’t go to sleep after dinner. Wait for me.

Finally! It must be it, it must be my true love come to save me from this lonely place, this wretched place, this cold place. I knew he would come, I just knew it. I hope you doubt me no more. I am free.

You need to be careful, it could be –

I am free. I can see my future and it is bright. My excitement has gotten me worked up, and I need to be at the height of my strength if I am to escape tonight. I climb onto my bed, feeling the drowsiness come over me.

Looks like they gave you the nighty night ones, huh? Guess they were as sick of your monologue as –

A knock on the door wakes me from my sleep, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. I remember. The excitement floods back, I will be rescued tonight. I will finally have the life I have waited for since I can remember.

The door opens, a chef comes in, it is not the day chef. They bring the food over to the table and wait for me as usual.

I do my best to act normal –

There’s not a day in your life you’ve been normal. Especially not since you lost –

And act as though the expected roast dinner is the most exciting part of my day. The chef seems pleased as I wolf down my food, hoping that they will leave soon so that my prince might come get me.

I think they need to get you on something new. Whatever they’re giving you isn’t working anymore.

The chef leaves with the tray and I do my best to look presentable. I’m sure my new bedhead isn’t the most flattering appearance I could have, and I want my prince to see me at my best.

Raking your hands through those knots again. Too bad they don’t trust you with a mirror.

I take a deep breath. This is it. Now all I need to do is wait.

And wait. I twist my bracelet.

They aren’t coming. You need to stop getting your hopes up. They’ll just be crushed –

I hear the lock on the door click and it open gently. A deep whisper protrudes from the darkness.

“Hurry. Do you want to get outta here or not?” The gruff voice of the guard slips through the empty air.

I am so excited, I know it is real now. I hurry towards the guard, he must be in on the plan. I cannot wait to meet my prince.

The guard roughly grabs my arm and starts leading me down a narrow corridor. I look up at him, he’s an ugly sort of fellow, and I can see his yellowed teeth in the darkness. He is smiling, grinning from ear to ear. He must be as excited as I am.

This doesn’t feel right. Maybe you should head back to the room. Doesn’t that hurt?

I ignore the pain on my arm as he drags me to a door. I’m sure he just wants to get me there safely, or he’d be in a lot of trouble with the prince. He pulls a keychain out of his pocket and it jingles gently in the silent hallway. The door unlocks with a tender click.

It is a stairway; the guard gruffly pushes me in front of him as it is too narrow to walk side-by-side. I hold the railing tightly as I blindly stumble down. I can feel the guard’s breathing on my neck, it is hot and smells rancid. I miss the last step and go stumbling onto the hard, concrete floor below. Concrete? No – no, it must be cobblestone…

Another voice enters the dark room.

“Jesus, Joe. Can’t ya keep her in one piece?” A chuckle.

It must be my prince, worried about my safety. I want to rise and comfort him and let him know that this guard did a wonderful job, but I can’t, the air still hasn’t come back to me.

“What does it matter anyway? She’ll look worse by the time you’re done.” His laugh was louder than my prince’s, and plain mean. How dare he offend a princess like that. “Not to mention, they’ll just think she had another fight with her wall. She’s known for some stunts like that. She actually thought I was gonna help her get outta here. Crazy bitch.”

Listen, LISTEN to me. You need to listen. This is not good. This is alarming, you need to get up and run now. Listen –

I blink rapidly. What is that man even talking about? My prince will have his head soon, I’m sure. I pull myself onto my hands and knees and try to stand up. A calloused hand reaches the back of my shirt and yanks me to my feet, cutting off my breathing.

“Perks of security detail. She’s in one of the high care rooms, anyway, right? They ain’t gonna question any bruises, or anything she says. Bring ‘er over here.”

The guard pulls me over to where my prince is talking utter nonsense. The room is dark, but I can make out an old table against a wall. The guard pushes me, and my back collides against the side of it. My hand groans painfully as the impact digs into it, and my bracelet slips off my wrist.

Jane Doe. #0148. Chlorpromazine for Sch –

“Stop!” I cry out.

The prince laughs and puts a large hand over my mouth. “Now, now, princess. You ain’t gonna be any trouble, are ya now?”

Princess. He called me princess. It really is my prince. It’s worth any pain as long as he frees me from here. As long as he cares for me, marries me, loves me. I will do anything for him. What did mother say… There was a Princess long ago.

“That’s a good girl now.” He croons and slides his other hand down to the band of my pants. He pulls them down easily.

He pushes me back down onto the table. I am scared. I am remembering something deep in my mind, but it is only a tickle of a memory. A dark memory. A frightening one. I flail my arms around and try to get a grip on something. This isn’t what mother told me about. And she lived in a big high tower.

Fight! You need to fight. You need to escape! NOW!

He pins my arms down and plants a wet kiss onto my cheek. A kiss. True loves kiss. This is what mother said. When she read to me – no, when she told me of my future. I feel something warm against my bare thigh. I am so scared. But true loves kiss. True loves kiss. True loves kiss. One day a fairy waved her wand.

No. No no no no no. NO! This is not right. This is wrong. This is bad – white walls, white floors, white ceilings, white beds, white coats, white pills – and for what? You need to fight now! You can feel that can’t you? This is WRONG. You are bleeding! I am bleeding! I am hurt! This is not true loves kiss. This is -

The Princess slept for one hundred years.