Downhill

1: Touch

I felt like the air was being sucked out of me. I was experiencing physical torture. I looked into the mirror and watched as the corset was pulled tightly around me. Tailors rushed around the room getting me dressed. I was their perfect little doll they loved to play dress up with. Hands were touching and tugging as they made me look like the perfect prince. The suit fit tightly onto every inch of my body.

The tailors rushed away and some makeup artists showed up and put makeup on me. Everybody was talking to each other and ignored any protests I made. I didn't make any, so maybe that was why but still. They would have ignored them.

"You look handsome, your highness," One of the tailors complimented as he cut a string. I felt the brush of makeup on my face still. Was I handsome because makeup was on my face? I am handsome because they cleaned my flaws.

The tailors, the designers, and the makeup artists left my room. I looked around a bit. The room I have spent so much of my life in. The walls are so familiar, I spent most of everyday here.

I looked out of the window and looked at the forests and city that surrounded us. The world is so big, so beautiful. But it's scary. I closed my window and walked towards the mirror and looked at myself. I left the room finally and maids ran over to me. I hate the attention. It was just like getting ready, they didn't put their hands on me but it felt all the same.

"Your highness, your breakfast is ready." one said and hurried away after because they heard my mother call for them.

"Your highness, your father is ready for you to get to court," another maid added on and led me to the dining room. I was quiet and followed where they led me. She led me to the chair and the cooks rushed out, setting down the food in front of me. I sat there in the dining room alone and ate the food in cold dead silence. The maids are standing by the doors waiting for me to order them around.

I just sat there eating. I heard my mother complain and looked up as she walked into the dining room. She is probably going to complain about my outfit today. Even though she hired the designer. So how the outfit looks is basically her doing.

She looked at me angrily and yelled for a butler. A butler came running and did as she said and fixed her hair and her crown. I sat there and watched. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, I suppose. I imagine her as the Evil Queen.

She walked over to me and touched my face, moving my head so she could get a better look. It was an unnecessary touch but she does not care. She never does. Just like when her yelling made me quiet. What a happy child I was and she silenced me. She took my childhood away from me because I have to be a prince, and then later a king.

I never want to be a king because that means my father is gone. Even though it seems like a bit of fun because then I am in charge. I could make my own rules, nobody can tell me what to do. We have absolute rule like it is the 15th century.

"I suppose you look acceptable," she turned away before sitting down gracefully in her seat.

I ignored the comment and finished eating rather quickly. I fidgeted with my shirt and waited for my mother to finish eating. She did after a bit and stood up, the butlers opened the door for us and we headed out. I looked at the floor and walked outside. I wish I could disappear, anything to get me away from the blinding lights of the paparazzi.

Teen girls screamed at the top of their lungs when they saw me. It was blinding light after blinding light as the paparazzi tried to get closer. They yelled questions at my mother and me. They waved flags and banners around.

I got into the limo and stared at the floor and tried to ignore how loud it was. I found myself fidgeting with my shirt, rubbing the fabric over and over again. The bright lights irritated me and it was getting way too loud. I was cracking my fingers and my mother slapped my hand as a form of a warning. It was her way of telling me to stop, so I did.