My earliest memories of this world were being shoved into a closet.

I can perfectly recall it. A strong beam of light from the outside blinding me for a moment before being replaced by total darkness like it was yesterday (maybe because it was? I'm not sure the days seem to blend in). 

At first, I thought it was some sort of cruel prank being played on me by my friends, but after pounding on the door and screaming their names with no reply, I realized no one would be coming back for me. I awoke the next morning to find the familiar flash of light bursting into my room, if you could call it that. I sprung up, running towards the beacon of light, my only chance at even escaping before it was shut in my face. I fell to the ground, lowering my head in defeat. I was stuck in this hell hole for a little while longer..

My days are pretty monotonous. The light comes, the bread arrives, the door is shut. The light comes, the bread arrives, the door is shut. The light comes, the bread arrives, the door is shut. I’m assuming this has to have been over the course of a few days, though with my lack of consciousness, it could have easily been a week. How many days I've been here isn't important anyhow, just that I'm stuck here until whoever is out there decides to kill me, which I can only hope is soon.

With all the time in my hands, I’ve explored. There is nothing inside the room but me and a family of rats.  No mattress, no paper, no where to do my necessities.  The floor feels to be made of some sort of stone. It is frigid and lacks the grain wood should have, so I assume it's stone. I have no memory of how I got here, and my last memories themselves are pretty faint. Maybe I'm already dead and this is my personal hell. Who knows. 

The light flashes back into the room, the bread arrives, the door is slammed shut. I crawl to it, painstakingly slow. My legs dragged across the floor, the friction burning my knees. My hands reached for the bread, snatching it, and  shoving it straight into my mouth. It was stale and hard, the flavor non existent. I stopped fearing that it was poisoned long ago, and instead yearned for it to be. I have prayed to every god for a quick death, yet it seems my prayers go unanswered because everyday I wake up again.

I sit in my corner, head buried in between my thighs, rocking myself silently until I fall asleep. What did I do to deserve this? Was I such a terrible person? It hurts to even think, my head pounding with an atrocious migraine.

My thoughts, or lack thereof, are interrupted by a clatter. It is the first time I hear voices, despite the intense quiet. I could make out the words if I tried.

“Your majesty!”

There was a beat of silence, before the sounds of heavy footsteps echoed closer to my room.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I really don’t suggest you-” 

“Nonsense!” A different voice called back, rich and deep.

“I will fetch my coat myself,” the voice insisted. The steps got closer, practically hammering against the floor with a sense of urgency.

“Your majesty, please let a maid fetch it for you, this is not the-”

Whoever spoke didn’t get a chance to finish their sentence before the light breached the room. It filled every crevice of my eyes. I cowered back, eyes shutting as I shielded myself from it for a moment.

“What is this?”

I finally lift my head cautiously, slowly opening my eyes.

I’m greeted by two men. One had white hair, as pure as paper. Wrinkles marked his forehead as his eyebrows were raised. He looked to be in his late 40s. Despite clearly being aged, his hair was not silver as one would expect, but as white as a decadent marshmallow. His skin was an olive tone, glistening with sweat. His eyes were as green as emeralds, now narrowed in my direction. He wore strange clothes, a green coat embellished with golden embroidery, with a pocket watch dangling to his side. He was tall, but not nearly as tall as the man to his side, staring down at me with a shocked expression.

He was truly beautiful, nothing like I’ve ever had laid my eyes on before. He had hair as golden as rye, perfectly styled as some of it fell in front of his eyes. His eyes were a matching gold color, shining as purely as gold. He wore a similar suit, yet it was clearly more grand than the man next to him. It was white, with some frilly shoulder pads that matched with his hair, which made his natural appearance stand out even more. The golden man turned to the other one, his brows furrowed.

“Who is this?” He seethed, grabbing the white-haired man by the collar. The guards flinched, not daring to raise their weapons.

“It is just a prisoner of mine, your majesty-” The white haired man spoke meekly, his eyes glued to the floor.

“And who allowed you to keep prisoners?” He barked, bringing him closer to his face. 

“No one, your majesty. But-” 

The golden man brought a finger to the other man’s lips, shushing him.

“I will remind you that no one but the crown is allowed to hold prisoners, unless given special permission otherwise. You are certainly not allowed to keep prisoners that the crown is unaware of. Let this be the only time I remind you this,” he said simply, dropping the man on the floor.

“Yes, your majesty,” the man nodded solemnly, his face drained of color as he continued to sweat profusely.

“Now, I will take this prisoner back to the castle where it belongs,” he huffed, his eyes then landed on me, eyeing me curiously.

He stepped forward, into the room, before extending his gloved hand toward me.

“What is your name, prisoner?” He asked, his tone amused.

“Catalina,” I croaked, voice hoarse.

Which is weird, because that is not my name.