Princess in a Black Dress

See, my life can be described simply as a fairy tale. I could literally have anything I want; newest iphone, no problem. Oh, you have to save up for a year for a car? I just bought 4.

My family is wealthy, I'm supposedly gorgeous, I excel at school, I'm pretty much perfect.
I know, I know, Hannah Montana, not everybody is perfect.

But I'm supposed to be.
Everybody expects good things from the Great and Fabulous Nia.
I have to do all my homework in 10 minutes, plus do all my chores in 5 minutes, hang out with my friends, be 'social' for 3 minutes, eat dinner for 10 minutes, go to bed and get ready for the next day in 3 minutes.

My life was planned out from the moment I took my first breath; heck, my parents reserved a space for me when I was 2 in Harvard. Strange, I know. But you can do a heck of a lot of things when you're rich.

I honestly don't want everything. My mum and dad are lovely, I couldn't ask for better parents, but it would be nice for them not to fuss over my stress acne.

So when I decide to go to the bakery around the corner, they make a huge fuss about it and send my sister, Lively, with me.
Lively. They don't push her around like a ping-pong ball, do they!?

So with Lively peering over my shoulder, I pick out a croissant.

"A croissant?" She says crossly.
"Yep, a croissant." I nod, giving the cashier my money.

"A croissant!? Nia, you're a Winters family member. Not a McDonald's family member!" She practically shouts in my face.

I roll my eyes and chuckle.
"I'm not obsessed with being perfect," I point out.
"You're supposed to be," Lively replies accusingly.

"You're so full of shit. Am I not allowed to be normal?" I snarl as the cashier hands me my bag and I take out the croissant.

"Nia. You're rich, you're gorgeous, what else are you?"

Broken, scarred, damaged.

"What's your point, Lively?" I sigh.
"You - you're not grateful," She snaps.

"Is being grateful loosing 5 pounds every day?" I reply snidely as I chew on the croissant right in her face.

"Y'know what? I'll just tell Mum and Dad you went to the park. I'm going home." She rolls her eyes and taps on the door to our mansion and it opens.

I throw away the paper bag and sigh as I see the park.
I go down the little wooden stairs to get to the park and am greeted by a swarm of cheering fans.
Beside their yelling, the park is green, flowing, beautiful and inviting. Perfect time to sit and think.

Hey, remember my little thought about being 'broken, scarred and damaged?'

I'll tell you what that means.
My life is a fairy tale. I said that. But every fairy tale princess - Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty - has a villain. In my case, my evil queen or wicked stepmother is inside my head. Thoughts of hate swarm through my head.
Why?
When I walk down the street, I'm judged. Passerby look at me and think, "She's probably really selfish and takes advantage of how wealthy her family is. Just because she's pretty doesn't mean she's not a fucking princess. I bet she's a bimbo."

Then I think they probably have a good reason why; so that's why I hate myself. My villain is inside and outside of me.

When the croissant falls out of my hand and a group of birds feast on it, they're chased away by a group of 12 to 19 year old girls.

They start tumbling towards where I just walked, piling on top of a -
Person?

Oh, a guy.
An attractive guy.

I see a face in the window. Our mansion is right next to the park, and it's truly huge and gorgeous. I can see my mother poking her head out of the window, looking at the guy being swarmed and I hopefully.

Does she want me to walk over?
As if.

Okay, okay, fine.
Of course, I get the usual stares as I part through the crowd, and they make a path for me without comment.

After all, Lively and I are known as "The Daughters of the Rich People."

I offer a hand to the guy, who looks pretty bruised.
He gladly takes it.

"Bitch."
"How dare you?!"
"You're helping him?"
"How fucking dare you take Harry Styles!"
"We will ruin your life!"


They start screaming, the girls. "Oh my god, SHUT UP!" I say loudly.
That shuts them up.

"You are?" I ask the guy.
"Harry," He manages.

I smile, showing both my dimples.
"Hi, Harry. I'm Nia."

I can sense the ending of my old fairy tale.
A new one is starting.

Notes