Rogue Royalty, The Rebel Princess

"Get up, damn it!"

My eyes snapped open immediately. I found myself staring into the angry, black eyes of my father. He was more than annoyed, and I knew trouble was brewing. I tried to scramble up from the bed, but he gripped my arm with such force that I yelped in pain. He dragged me off the bed and threw me onto the floor. The impact sent waves of pain through my arm, but I refused to let a tear escape. I wouldn't give this monster the satisfaction.

"How many times do I have to tell you to be awake before I am?" he spat, before kicking me in the stomach.

I gasped in pain as I collapsed to the floor again. The pain was coursing through my ribs, intensifying. He kicked me again, and I groaned as the pain only grew more unbearable. Clutching my stomach, I endured the agony, the constant ripples of pain. My father laughed; my suffering was his pleasure.

"We're leaving in the next two hours. Get yourself sorted," he spat before stalking out of the room and slamming the door.

I groaned at the pain but forced myself up from the floor. Crawling over to the bed, I placed my hands on the top and used all my strength to push myself up. I sat on the edge of the bed, hissing in pain as I pulled up my pajama top, revealing the ugly bruises already marring my stomach in yellow and black. I tenderly touched each rib, checking for any breaks.

I hissed in pain, feeling the clear break of one rib. Just what I needed. Pressing my head into my hands, I sighed. This was just another injury to add to my collection. God, I was sick of this. I hated this. I despised my life. This is what my own father could do to me, his own flesh and blood.

I stood up, hobbling into the bathroom attached to the bedroom. I leaned heavily against the door frame as I stumbled into the bathroom. I went straight to the sink and the cupboard under it. Bending down with difficulty, I found a first aid kit. I pulled out a small glass and searched the kit, finding painkillers. I quickly filled the glass with water and downed a couple of painkillers. I stripped from my clothes before climbing into the shower.

Showering quickly and clinically, not allowing myself to enjoy the hot water and the brief respite from my father, my mind wandered to where we would go next. I stumbled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I went over to my suitcase that held all my belongings and rifled through it for some clothes. I ended up pulling out a pair of black skinny jeans, dark blue converse, a white blouse, and my leather jacket. I also retrieved my underwear and placed it on the bed. I dried myself quickly before finding the first aid kit and began to bandage around my torso, providing extra support to the broken rib. It was probably true that I could qualify to be a nurse with the amount of medical care I had given myself over my 17 years.

I pulled on all my clothes, towel-drying the last bits of wet hair. Once again, my black glossy hair went pin-straight. There was a knock at the door, and I quickly rushed to open it, praying it wasn't my dad. But it couldn't be him; he would have just walked straight in. I pulled open the door, clutching my throbbing side.

"Princess, here's some food. We're leaving in half an hour," Wade said.

I watched as he scanned me from head to toe with an unsettling look. I shivered in discomfort. Wade had a tendency to be overly leering, and it repulsed me. Quickly, I took the food from his hands and moved to close the door. However, he jammed his foot in the way and forced it open. I stepped back into the room, placing the food down while keeping a vigilant eye on Wade.

Wade was 24 years old and held a position as one of the generals. He had a dark and malevolent demeanor, much like my father. He relished in the opportunity to inflict pain on others, making him just as much a monster as my father. I despised him.

Physically, he was formidable—well-built and toned from countless hours of training. His height easily surpassed mine, casting a looming shadow. However, it was his distinctive scar that stood out the most, starting above his left eyebrow and running all the way down to his jaw. It was a reminder of his fearlessness in battle, a battle scar that seemed to please him, accentuating his fierce and monstrous appearance.

He advanced towards me, resembling a predator taunting its prey. A wicked smirk played on his face, contorting his scar even more. He seized me harshly by the waist, causing sharp pain to shoot through my broken rib. I winced, struggling against his grip. The repulsion I felt was overwhelming, and I shivered as his hands violated my personal boundaries. I couldn't help but question my ability to resist.

"Don't resist, princess," he sneered.

"Release me, you brute!" I shouted, vehemently trying to break free.