Episode 11
1180 Words
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"Don't come in!" Charlotte screamed.
Her voice rang with a desperate sharpness, like a small, frightened bird facing its end.
For Charlotte, being dragged back home to marry a cold, ruthless Mafia leader was akin to a death sentence.
The little princess couldn't fathom how the New York detectives had managed to track her down.
She had fled so far.
Outside, a detective's rich, steady voice resounded, "Princess, please rest assured we will wait until you are finished getting ready. Your safety is our utmost concern. I'm Edward Harrison, a senior detective with the NYPD. You may call me Ed."
He announced his name and position politely, seeking to soothe the anxious princess.
But Charlotte found no comfort in the detective’s melodic voice; instead, she picked out a crucial detail—"we."
It sounded like there was more than one person outside.
Charlotte's expression grew grim. Could her burly bodyguard single-handedly take on a squad of professionally trained Marines?
But she wouldn't go back!
Never!
Stepping silently out of the bath, Charlotte didn't bother rinsing away the milk and petals clinging to her skin, leaving faint milky trails down her body. Her wet golden hair clung to her back, and stray strands coiled around her thighs.
The princess tiptoed across the carpet, the milk dripping soundlessly from her slender ankles.
She eyed the gown hanging by the door, hesitating briefly, but ultimately chose not to approach it.
Unwilling to let the detective hear her footsteps, she hastily wrapped a towel around herself from the chest down. The short towel couldn't cover everything; below her hips, her alabaster legs were almost entirely exposed.
Charlotte could worry about modesty later. She crept on tiptoe to the window, peering through the gap between its curtains.
A full contingent of detectives had cordoned off the entire block.
The sunlight reflected blindingly off their polished badges, dizzying Charlotte with despair.
She thought in despair: now, escape truly seemed impossible.
With a painful bite to her lip, until the coppery tang of blood seeped in, Charlotte found an unexpected calm.
Raising her voice with cool composure, the little princess declared, "I require two maids to assist me with dressing."
Delay!
The detectives surely wouldn't have brought maids with them, meaning they'd need to gather some locally. Charlotte planned to wait until Anderson returned, hoping the ensuing chaos would grant her a window for escape.
Anderson could fend off the detectives long enough for her to slip away.
Yet astoundingly, her family had anticipated this, even preparing maids.
Edward inquired if she needed the maids now, but Charlotte quickly refused, "I'll soak a while longer. I'll call them if I need assistance."
She tossed sweets into the tub to make a deliberate splash, yielding convincing sounds of bathing.
Once more, Edward fell silent.
Confident that Charlotte couldn't evade such a thorough cordon, he was inclined to grant her wishes. He had also arranged for a delay tactic over on Bullock Street, hoping to keep the princess’s formidable bodyguard occupied.
By the time that protector returned, the princess would be secured away.
*
Children darted through streets, immersed in their superhero versus villain games, only to collide with an unmoving barrier on a sharp corner.
"Oof—"
The boy looked up to find a forest of black suits, towering and silent as statues, faces shrouded behind dark sunglasses. Having never encountered such a scene, he sat on the ground, candy spilling from his palms.
A stoic voice intoned, "Please go around."
The command issued, the figure’s gaze shifted away, neglecting to assist; nonetheless, his very presence was enough to freeze the children with fear.
A companion tugged the boy to his feet, urging him away.
Indignant, the boy complained, "The angel lady gave me those candies, and now they’re all gone!"
His friend warned, "Do you want those big guys to come after you?"
Yet the boy insisted on returning. He stubbornly knelt, painstakingly gathering his dropped sweets. The detectives regarded him merely as a passing child, allowing him to proceed unchallenged. Relieved, and driven by curiosity, the boy glanced up under his brow, eager to glimpse these “black monsters” up close.
At that moment, his eyes fell upon the terrace at the far end, where a young girl with golden hair stood.
Trapped within this formidable moment, her face lacked any trace of a smile, her sapphire eyes brimming with sadness.
Struck by a sudden resolve, the boy turned on his heel and ran, abandoning the unfinished task of gathering candy. His companion followed in baffled pursuit, "Danny, aren't you coming back for your candy?"
The future brave little hero answered, unwavering in his newfound purpose, "A beautiful angel is trapped by monsters; I must find a hero to rescue her!"
*
Edward's voice interrupted again, a trace of impatience seeping through, "Princess, do you require assistance?"
Time was running short.
He was hopeful to avoid direct confrontation with the princess's enigmatic and evidently powerful bodyguard.
Should Charlotte persist in stalling—
Edward might consider… forcibly breaching protocol. He trusted his superiors in the metropolis would understand such necessary audacity.
Charlotte’s own urgency climbed. Riding on her royal authority, she threatened, “I’m not dressed. One step into this room, and my lawyer will sue you all to bankruptcy!”
Edward conceded a little, suggesting, “How about another ten minutes?”
Charlotte left his proposal unanswered.
She was aware that her time to stall was limited.
Should Edward decide on a hardline approach, it would be her reputation at stake.
Chewing her lip until the wound she inflicted opened further, the pain beneath her royal demeanor spawned a sudden courage.
Moments earlier, she had spotted a narrow passage between the window and the roof that might accommodate her.
The detectives below, in strict formation, were strictly forbidden from looking up at the princess’s quarters. As long as she moved quietly, ever so quietly, perhaps she could stealthily slip across the rooftops.
Surely, she could get away!
Breathing deeply, Charlotte secured the towel tightly around her only-covered form, resembling an agile skyline cat, and silently clambered onto the windowsill.
She reached up to nudge the window wider.
"Squeak—"
Unanticipated, the window emitted a loud groan at its seams.
Charlotte froze.
Edward, undeniably perceptive to the sound, grew visibly irate, “Princess—!”
Aware of Charlotte’s attempted escape, Edward resolved to dispense with detective politeness, intent on intervening in her ill-fated flight.
His hand twisted the doorknob.
Half his dark silhouette emerged through the door crack.
Perched precariously on the windowsill, Charlotte clasped the towel tightly with one hand while pressing the other futilely against the window. Her pale legs dangled helplessly, yielding to a disheartening surrender. This rare, golden bird about to be ensnared lamented in silence, tears brimming but unshed.
Locked inside her own panic.
At that crucial instant—
A familiar, warm hand interposed across her eyes.
The breeze carried a voice she recognized, low and deliberate, saturating her with safety.
"Shh sweet girl, don’t cry."
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- Writer
