I sat crying in my room and bandaging the newest cut from King Howard's whip. Those two, the king and queen, loved to take it out on me. I could handle one of them just fine but to take both the verbal and physical abuse was hard on me. I searched up and down for my makeup remover wipes as my cheap eyeliner had run down my face. I found them to be covered in food coloring, a prank from the young prince who tortured me as much as his parents did. I doubled over in a new bought of sobbing. My phone made a noise and I picked it up. It was a text:
Hey, it is Mathew.
Is this Kinder
I smile to know someone was thinking about me but that didn't stop the tears.
Yes.
Hi.
How are you doing?
I am fine.
Fine never means fine.
What wrong?
It’s not really something I want to talk about.
What are you doing?
Well now I am making arrangements to come see
…you but I was talking to America.
You don’t hae to come over!
[have]
Well I am and there no stopping me.
Fine but don’t tell America.
If I have to see someone in this state…
I only want to see you.
I won’t tell him.
I'll be there soon.
Okay.
Mathew?
Huh?
Thank you.