Scamming the Prince (In major edit)

Scamming the Prince

I'd like to thank lovelyladieslie for all her help with this :) She chose the title and helped me revise my ideas of this story. Also, check her stories they're amazing.

 

Chapter 1:

"Ronald, I'm going to need the rent money," the landlord said surveying the chipped walls and beat up, ratty furniture in disapproval.

As soon as 'rent' rang in my ears I picked up my sister and carried her out the room. This wasn't going to end well, it never ended well. Even though I was down the hall and the door was closed I could still make out what was being said.

"I know, but I can't pay you today. I--" my father started to explain.

"Save it, Ronald. I'm not running a house for charity. I've got my own family to feed and I can't do that if I keep allowing you to pass on rent! I've let you go too many times!"

"I'm trying to make ends meets but my job is moving overseas and they've cut everyone's paycheck."

There was a long pause. Then the landlord spoke again in a more calm, and composed voice, "Listen, I'm sorry but if you can't pay I have to find someone that can. I give you until the end of the week, by then if you don't pay you're out."

I didn't hear any reply after that, seconds later the door shut. My mind began to fill with thoughts of sleeping outside and begging for money with a tin can. I laid down next to my sister and contented myself with the sounds of her heavy breathing.

Things hadn't always been this way. We weren't always penniless poor. When my mom was here we were living alright. We weren't poor nor were we rich. It was when my mom got sick the money began to disappear. 

When she first got sick we didn't think of it much, we all believed it was a cold--after all, it was winter. But then things progressed, her coughs grew violent and bloody. She could move a muscle without pain spreading throughout her body.

Dad paid for medicines and doctors from everywhere to heal mom. But all the treatments did was extend her the moment she was alive by an hour. I was seventeen at the time and I needed my mom. Even my sister, Sophie, knew what was happening and she was three.

The expenses for her funeral didn't help us either. Eventually, calls and letters began flowing in. The Medical Center demanded pay for all their doctors and prescriptions. After dad paid those we were forced into the world of hunger and poverty. One year later and we're still feeling the burn it left on us.

I sat up, covered my sister with the sheet under her feet, and walked out the room. Dad was seated on the couch. His face was buried in his hands. Cautiously, I sat on the empty seat next to him and took a breath,

"Dad, are you alright?"

He raised his head and forced a smile through his tired eyes and trouble frown, "I'm fine. Just some setbacks."

"Dad, you've never mentioned losing your job before. What's going on?"