Weird, I used to think this bed was comfortable. But after staying in Col...

No. I'm not gonna think about it. I love this bed. I love this dingy little apartment and I really love that I am alone. Maybe I'm an introvert. Maybe I'm just sick of the human race. Or maybe I'm just sick of Collis. 

Stop it. I'm not going to think about it. 

Yet those cruel memories sneak to the front of my mind, playing in a painful loop. 

The king's cold glare. The thick silence. Reaching for the glass, it tumbling off the table. 

I jump out of bed, pushing the memories back. I'm not thinking about it. Nope, nope, nope. D'arcy who? What king? Fairy tales... yeah. Not real. They no longer have my permission to exist. 

I find myself by the window, staring out over my little sliver of the world. This is the only kingdom I need, just these streets and red brick apartments. No secretaries, no princes, just me. Possibly a therapist. Maybe Heidi, assuming she doesn't murder me first. 

D'arcy breaks through my chain of thought, fogging up my head. I shut my eyes, but it fails to push him out. A montage of memories parade through my mind. Our first meeting, the tunnels, the towel, dinner.

Dinner.

I groan, retreating back to my bed. I can feel the springs in the mattress, as if they are trying to push me away. 

"You're a horrible bed," I grumble into the covers. It's supposed to swallow me into a hug, not stab me in the ribs. I guess it's my fault for sleeping on a nice bed. I didn't realize how uncomfortable it was before I had something to compare it to. 

I just... ugh. 

I'll just... I'll just journal it. Yeah. Get all the memories out of my head and shut it away in a book... then throw that book out the window. 

Yeah.

I scoured my dresser for some paper. Nothing. No loose-leaf or legal pads. Just a pad of sticky notes. 

Well... it's paper isn't it?

I start from the beginning: that stupid coffee shop. Despite the fact that I'm scribbling the words down as small as I can, the first note fills up before I can even get to the  perfume. I rip it off, sticking it to the wall. 

I keep going, recording every excruciating detail, ripping off the contaminated pages and sticking them to the wall. The note pad gets thinner as my new wall paper expands. Then it gets to the dinner, that last night in Collis. 

Everything was awful. I spilled D'arcy's drink all over his suit. I tried to fix it, just made everything worse. Uncle Glenn tried laugh it off. He said at least it wasn't in public. Then the king

I tear it off, shoving it against the wall. The pad only has a few stickies left. 

He said I'd be worse in public. He said that I'd embarrass the Westons and the country. He said that I was being selfish and D'arcy was being irrational. He said we weren't thinking.

A few stray tears roll down my cheek as I banish it to the wall. I look down at the last sheet, the last page of the novel I just wrote. Swiping my sleeve across my cheek I pencil in the end of the story.

He was right.

I hesitate, but I let it hang with the others. Suddenly the door flies open. I know who it is without turning around, only one person barges into my apartment without permission.

"I've been calling you all week! I was--" Heidi begins. She trails off as she looks at my wall of post-it-notes, then at me blubbering on my bed. I'd tell her that it's not what it looks like, but I don't even know what it looks like. 

"It's... it's a long story," I manage between hiccups.