A fag. He actually called me a fag. My own parents have never even called me that and they’re walking, talking bigots. Not a single person I have ever come into contact with has ever called me that, and the first person to do it was my soulmate.
I walk through the palace on autopilot, my feet moving sluggishly against the marble floors. I feel as though there is a thick dark cloud looming over me, weighing me down. I need to get some air and clear my head, or at least try to. I make my way through the palace, being greeted by staff and officials as I go and for once I can’t bring myself to return their greetings. I can’t force a smile on my face, not when my heart is crushing me from the inside.
I make my way to a large, ornate, gold door on the first floor and open it revealing a large
