Acorn Plains- Book One (COMPLETED)

~three~

I pace the room, I sit. I pace the room, I sit. I pace the room, I sit. It's never ending. I can't stop stressing. My hair will probably turn grey at my next birthday- my nineteenth. I've been alone for two days now. I had gotten a single cotton sheet- it wasn't even silk- for my cot. That was the only thing I had gotten since my arrival. I was still in my cloud of a wedding dress. 

I groan and sit on the cot once more. It's a cycle- a never ending cycle. What if I'm just being left here to rot?

Well, it's better than being molested by a bunch of dinosaurs. I get a chill at the thought. I push the thought away and walk over to the balcony. I open the doors and step outside, into the sun. It was warm here, in the day-time. But it was absolutely freezing at night. I suppose that was typical for the layer-cake desert, though. So we must not be too far from town. I wonder if I could just get down, over the moat, and to a toad house-

No. It's impossible. That would never happen in a million lifetimes. 

All of a sudden, I hear the door-handle jiggle. I move back inside and over to my cot, sitting down just in time. It's the same dinosaur that's given me my food. Now, he has something that looks like a salad, but I could be wrong. You never know with this food. He sets the tray down on my side-table like he always does, but this time he sits down next to me. 

"I'm sorry this has happened to you," he says quietly.

"It's not your fault. You didn't do it," I reply.

He sighs. "Right. But my kind did it." I look at him. He looks away. "It wasn't against you."

I raise my eyebrows. "What is that supposed to mean? My father never did anything wrong to you!"

"Sure, not to me," he says, looking at me once more. "But to my ancestors. My family."

I cross my arms. "What could he have possibly done to big dinosaurs like you?"

"Your father has more resources than us. And, we're only big when we eat the growth mushrooms, just like you humans. Except for the Royal Family and nobles. They have better genes than the common folk."

"Are you royalty?" I ask.

He smirks, revealing a few sharp teeth. "You decide." He stands.

"Don't leave," I beg, standing as well. I look at him. He looks at me. He's taller than me by a few inches.

"Why should I stay?" he replies. 

I sit back down and look at my hands. "I'm lonely."

"That's not my problem," he says stonily and leaves the room.

I run to the door and collapse in front of the door. "No! Don't leave! Please!" Tears fall down my face. I had actually had a conversation. Now I'm alone again, all by myself, with no one to talk to. Sure, he wasn't the best person to talk to, but he was better than nothing. I curl up in a ball and sob. I swear, I hear him breathing, just outside the door, but that has to be my imagination. He has left. He's not going to stay, especially for a brat like me. 

I crawl over to my cot and slither into it. 

I hear something at the door. 

A tiny turtle with wings walks in, holding something. "These are from Lord Bowser," he says.

I walk over to him, wiping my nose. Pale pink fabric rests in his tiny arms.

I take it from him slowly; nervously. He backs up, his eyes on me, and leaves the room.

I hold up the fabric.

Then I gasp. I slip it on quickly. It's another dress, but it's a lot simpler. It's a t-shirt dress that comes to my knee's. It ties on the sides and it's all tied together with a dark pink string that hangs down a little. I toss my wedding dress to the other side of the room, glad to be rid of it. I sink back on to the cot, in deep thought. 

I then remember my 'salad' sitting on my table and start munching on it. It actually isn't bad. I should ask for this for my next meal. I finish it quickly, glad to have something in my belly. 

I search the room for a string t pull up my hair- it's become absolutely disgusting and disheveled. I have strands of hair hanging in my face and I can only imagine what the back looks like. The only thing the stylist used were bobby-pins and those hurt my head. I decide to just pull out all the pins and leave it be. 

Once everything is out, I get an idea. I grab my fork, lick all the food off, and brush it through my hair. I can literally see the freaking dirt FALLING OUT OF MY HAIR. I then twist my hair up and stick the fork through it to hold it up. 

Then my 'acquaintance' walks in. He strides in with purpose, but then stops when he see's my hair. "What are you doing?" 

I shrug, still mad at him for leaving me when I was loneliest. "I just did my hair."

"You can't do that!" he exclaims.

I stare at him like he's an idiot. "Why not?"

He lets out a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks. "You do realize that you're a prisoner, right? And what do you believe everyone will think if  they know I let a prisoner have a fork, which is more dangerous than a butter knife?"

I shrug. "How would they know?"

He sighs and makes a move towards the door. I run to it and beat him. I block the door. 

"Move," he says. He reaches for my head. I flinch. He takes the fork out of my hair. I open my eyes once more and see hurt in his big, brown eyes. "Why did you flinch?" he asks softly. Then he shakes his head. "Nevermind. Look, I'll send a lady in here to do your hair, okay? Will that be alright?"

I step away from the door without giving him an answer.