Chapter Two - 'Princess'

Ophelia meets with the wolves she met in town earlier that week to figure out some information about her lineage. They give her an impossible task.

I tried questioning him, but he wouldn't answer. That night, he just yelled at me more. But he never came back to hit me before he locked me in my room. Now, I'm sitting here with my back against the wall. It's been three days. Three days of sitting in my bedroom with nothing to do. I can hear him - or someone - outside my door, changing the locks or adding more, I presume. I think I'm still in shock from the fight. My body aches from the beating, but my mind is swarming with questions. Questions about who I am. What I am...

There's a part of me that's grieving over the fact that I could be just like him. My father. Becoming a monster that so many fear. But I'm nothing like him. How could this possibly happen? My mother is human, isn't she? I think a part of me has always known that my father wasn't human. But I've always had doubt in my mind. It makes sense. I know nothing about my father's side of the family. S**t, I don't even really know much about my mom's side of the family. She hauled it out of here before I was old enough to really ask. But here I am now... Sitting on the floor of my bedroom with my back against the wall, thinking about all of the possibilities of what I might.

Maybe the wolves have answers for me...

But how do I leave? How do I get out of this house without getting myself killed by my own father? Or at the very least, beaten until I can no longer walk. I have to do something. If I'm to live with a curse of being some monster, I might as well use it to protect myself against the monster I've grown up with. Standing on my feet, the searing pain struck through my abdomen, causing me to halt. F**k this... Taking off the torn dress I've been in for days, I shower and change into black jeans and a tank top before coming to the door. It's unlocked. The locksmith must have forgotten to lock it back up before he left! What's the point of him changing them, anyway? Maybe it has something to do with the sudden strength I used against my father? I don't know, but they look pretty heavy-duty.

Nevertheless, my steps are light as I tread down the hall, keeping a close eye on my surroundings. My father is down stairs. I can hear his voice, talking to some of the men that work for him and patrol the house. Carefully, I make my way down the stair case that lead to the kitchen. Good. There's no one patrolling the back door! Silently opening it, I crept outside and just as I thought I was free, I hear his voice.

“Ophelia,” He starts, causing me to turn to face him without a word, but with a scowl on my face. “Did you not learn your lesson? Get your a*s back in here.” Balling my fists, his words sting to the core. My inner fire is burning and I don't think I've ever felt so... Angry? “Did you not learn yours?” My retort took him by surprise. The shock on his face didn't last long. His face now shifted into anger, and he takes a step towards me, “Are you suggesting that you want to go another round? That you could possibly beat me? You're weak, Ophelia. You'll always be weak. Now get your a*s back inside before I drag you back in.”

I have to admit. Hearing my father think so low of me, that I'm weak; it hurts. It hurts so much and my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. Despite all of the abuse, I feel that I still need to impress him. I need his acceptance of me. Why though? I don't understand. I hate him. My nails start to dig into the palms of my hands as my fists grow tighter. “It must be such a shame to have weak daughter. It must be a shame that I'm such an embarrassment to the family name,” I start, walking back inside but staying directly in front of my father. The words I'm saying I know I'll regret, but it's like there's someone else inside of me. Someone who wants to fight and rage out against him.

“But you know what's a real shame? Having a daughter that despises her monster of a father. Having a father who cares not about the well being of his child, but his own image in the eyes of a community he deceives. A father who ran off his wife because he's such a cruel individual. I'm not the disappointment here,” S**t.. What am I doing? “You are.” Well, there it goes.

I can see the anger in his eyes, but my own must be reflecting back at him. His fist hits the wall, putting a nice hole in it. My body jerks as I nearly jump out of my own skin. He hit really close to my head... But I don't move away. I stand there, staring back at him with the same fierce look I was just giving him before. Even though my entire body is trembling on the inside. I'm sure he can see right through my anger and find the fear he's instilled within me. But he backs away and I can see the grinding of his teeth as he does by the way his jaw tightens. Did I just win this?

I want to say more. I want to throw all of the insults I've every thought of about him in his face. I want to tell him how much I hate him and how much Hell it is living here with him. But he already knows. He has to know. He raises his arm and points towards the stair case in a silent demand for me to return to my room. I stood here for a minute, debating on my next move.

“No.” I simply reply, keeping myself ready to haul it away from him in case he tries to beat me again. “I won't be a prisoner in my own home again. I wont leave. But I'm not going to be locked in my room all day.” Perhaps he's proud of me for sticking up for myself. Or maybe he feels defeated. Either way, he walks away from me without another word and I feel the weight on my shoulders fall. Did that just happen? Did I just get away with telling my father off?

Standing there, I can't really believe it. I'm almost in awe of myself. Proud that I've finally stood up to the bully that is my father. Now if only I could leave and still get away with it. Surely, that will set him off and I'll be right back to square one. I need to go back into town and figure out what that man was saying. I know for a fact, that my father wont tell me anything for the simple fact that it could mean his control over me would be ruined. Now, I just need a plan to get out undetected.

Hours of prepping, I've finally found out how to get out without my father stopping me before I leave the drive way. Sleeping pills. Last year, I used to try and sneak out at night a lot without much success. But he had started to drug me at night to keep from having to constantly keep eyes on me. Eventually, I fell into a routine where I didn't want to get out. Not if it meant being beaten and drugged. I'm tired of living in fear beneath his fist. The maids have finished dinner and as they go to set the dining room table, I slip in to spike the food with crushed up sleeping pills I had stolen from my father's bathroom cabinets prior. It's easier that way. Needless to say, I'm not very hungry and wont be eating.

As we sit down for dinner, I can feel the nerves in my stomach. Sitting across the large table from my father, my eyes wander over towards the food that the maids begin to place down in front of us. Taking a sip of water, my eyes feast upon a salad I hadn't actually poured the drugs into. Good. Maybe I wont go hungry after all. Placing salad on my plate, I watch as my father started to put food of his own. Thank God. Maybe my plan will work.

“You best be eating something else other than rabbit food, girl.” He snickers.

“What? Am I not allowed to make my own food choices, either? You're lucky I'm eating at all.” I spit back. I might be pushing things a little too far.

His hands begin to ball into fists, standing to his feet. S**t. He walks towards my side of the table and grabs my plate, damn near throwing it across the room. My body jerks to the sound of the plate crashing against the wall. “Then don't eat.” He hisses. Well. Maybe I wont be eating that salad after all. Fine. I had already come into this with the thought of not eating so no harm done. Standing to my feet, my eyes met his. “Fine.” I snap back, turning to head to my room with a grin on my face once out of sight. Check mate.

I wait about an hour before slipping out of my room and down stairs to my father's study. That's right about how long it takes for pills to kick in, right? Opening the door, I find him slumped over his desk, passed out cold. Good. One problem solved. Now... I just need to figure out how to get passed the guards. Closing his study door behind me, I thought of another thing. Should I lock him in? God, I'm asking for a beating, aren't I? Grabbing the key he thought he was hiding from me by putting it in the plant outside the door, I lock it. No turning back. Once he wakes up, he's going to be pissed if I'm not back in time unlock it. But this could buy me some time if he wakes up before hand.

Wandering down to the cellar, I look towards the trap doors that lead to outside. All exits are monitored except for that one it seems. Dumb on their part. Getting into town is fairly easy, now that I'm actually out of the house. But finding the man I ran into might be challenging.

Walking through the streets, it starts getting dark. The unwelcoming looks I'm getting from others as I enter the north side tells me I'm in the right area. But there's an overwhelming feeling that I'm being followed - watched by all different directions. I feel like my sense of smell is growing stronger. I can smell the bakery on the block corner... The roses within the flower shop up the street... And now there's potent smell of that city life chemicals in the air. Gas and sewer lines. What the hell? But something else came into my senses, just as I got to an alley way opening close to the coffee shop I had been at before.

“Thought I told you to get lost, princess?” It's him. His voice. He's calling me by that nickname I'm starting to despise. 'Princess'. Something my father used to call me before he became abusive. Turning to look at him, there's a part of me that feels the need to run. But it's answers I seek and I'll never get them if I run at the first sight of trouble. “Don't call me that.” A simple request but it's one without attitude. This time, at least. If he's going to tell me anything, I doubt he'll want an attitude from me.

Suddenly, there's several others surrounding me. More than last time. Maybe he feels that he needs protecting from me? That he needs an army to take me down? Pretty sure this is a death sentence for me if he's not willing to work with me. He brought his arms out a little by his side, shrugging while walking towards me, “You wouldn't hear it if you stayed away like I told you to.” The others begin to close in on me and I can feel my heart going a mile a minute by this point. “I just... Need answers. And then I'll leave. I promise.” If my words don't tell him I'm desperate, then the look on my face is.

“Mhm..” He nods, crossing his arms over his chest and stares at me for a moment. “And why should I help you? Your father's people have never been kind to us.” I feel a pain in my chest. A pain of anger and frustration. Has he burned every bridge in town with these people? “My father's affairs have nothing to do with me. He is the one you have beef with. Not me.” I start, walking a little closer myself, “Please..” Now I'm begging. God, he must think I'm so pitiful. There's a long, drawn out silence between us. But with every second, I'm starting to feel hopeless. “And what's in it for me?” He questions, uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands in his pockets. What's in it for him? God, are there no people left in the world that aren't just willing to help out of kindness? Not that I should really expect it. I'm sure daddy-dearest hasn't done them any favors.

“I don't know, my undying gratitude?” I huff, shrugging before letting my arms collide to my side. Losing out hope, I just shake my head and turn to walk away. I've already given up hope that he'll help.

“Princess,” He starts up again, making me pause and spin around with half a mind to tell him off. Easy there, Ophelia. Calm your s**t. He lifts a hand and uses a single finger to motion for me to come back his way. There's hesitation at first. There's no way to know if I can trust him or anyone he's with, but I oblige either way. “You're not exactly fond of your father, are you? You're not a daddy's girl?” He mocks, smirking like he's just won the f*****g lottery. “No.” I respond without skipping a beat. “Good. Then if I help you, you're going to have to do something for me.” For a second, I start to get excited with his words. He's going to help me, depending on if I agree to whatever plan he has stashed away in his brain. And at this point, I'll do anything for the information if it means potentially granting me freedom from my father's wrath.

“What is it?” Weary of his request, I hold out no real hope that it'll be something I can do. “Your father has a trade off going down this coming Saturday. Find out where for me, and I'll tell you whatever it is you want to know.” Does he honestly think I know everything about my father's business? I don't even know when he plans to go to town half the time, much less his business plans! “How do you expect me to do that? He doesn't tell me anything!” There's frustration reflecting in my voice, I'm sure. He shrugs, “Figure it out, princess. Otherwise, no information.” He starts walking away with his band of groupies, leaving me standing there like an unwanted dog. What do I do now?

Author's Note

!!TRIGGER WARNING!! This book contains potential triggers in relation to abuse as well as some vulgar language. Please read with care. This is a project book that hasn't necessarily been reviewed for edits. It's a vent for myself. Ignore any grammar issues, but your critiques and thoughts are ALWAYS welcome!