Behind The Walls

Chapter 7 : As He Says

The guilt in me unravelled; I knew very well I was reading a personal diary about the person standing right behind me without them having a single clue.

Maybe this was my chance to finally confess how much I DIDN'T want to marry him but.. but what if he didn't agree?

What if he tried to force me just as much as my parents did because he wanted to stay obedient to his father?

He did write my name himself and surely wasn't going to change his mind so easily.

"..so are you just going to sit there like that?" the heavy voice behind me questioned. My eyes widened as I realised how much of an idiot I must have looked to him posing at the position I fell at for a minute as if some artist was going to magically appear and paint a portrait of me.

"MY NAME IS ADELAIDE!" I yelled out, turning around, still on the floor. "believe it or not... that didn't answer my question."

He let out a hand for me to get up. I stared at it, my gaze slowly tracing up to his face. I unintentionally studied his face. He had flawless ghostly-pale skin that perfectly displayed the shadows of his chiselled jaw. His dark eyes were gate-kept by thin strands of hair climbing down to his face. The sunlight mildly reaching the room gave his jet black hair a hue of grey and-

"Get up." he coldly demanded. I flinched, getting bought back to reality.

"I-I-um.. I like sitting on the floor."

Why the hell did I just say that? Actually, better question: why was he speaking to me in such a tone?

"I said GET UP!"

I shuddered at his words not expecting to be spoken to by this stranger so impolitely. I was about to lay my hand on his for support to get up when all of a sudden he took a step back and folded his arms. "I hate people who waste my time." And with that, he walked away.

I put my hand to my head, trying to process what had just happened; it made not a penny of sense. Was this really the same guy that wrote that cute and pleasant diary? I attempted to stand up again but again tripped, this time twisting my ankle excruciatingly.

I winced in pain clutching my ankle and this time tearing my heels off carelessly; they would look good in orange... and so would he.

This could have been my chance to talk to him. Tell him to take back the decision he made; it didn't seem like he wanted to marry me anyways. At least that's the impression I got. Or maybe it was because I didn't take his hand when he first asked and he's just like that? What if being a intimidating jerk was just his personality?

I was consumed by a black hole of 'maybe's'. I staggered towards the dining room barefoot after placing my unusable heels behind a large vase near the entrance; I would put them on on our way back home.

About to fall on my way there, my hand fortunately landed on a wide door frame revealing the grey room lit by beaming faces. I searched for Hugo within the group. He wasn't present. I tried to walk in a straight line and as if my foot hadn't just had some near death experience.

The joke-exchanging table silenced as I sat down. "What took you so long Adelaide?" mother interrogated knowing whatever excuse I made, wouldn't make even half a difference. " I just got a bit lost.." I shrugged reaching my arm over the table to grab a smaller spoon.

"Lost my dear?" The king chuckled. Charlotte rolled her eyes, "yes, I completely understand, I would also find it difficult to follow my family to the next room six feet away."

Father laughed hysterically as if she had cracked the funniest joke, intentionally to make us laugh. I plopped the food onto my plate, without hesitation. My stomach longed to be fed.

Mother shot me a look which usually in these situations meant 'please can you act more princess-like'. I continued to shove my face -finishing quicker than everyone else- I asked for permission to be excused from the table, as if I needed the restroom. I knew very well I was about to go do something much better.