Sometimes, all it takes for your heart to be crushed is for it to soar into the sky, light as it can be, before falling to the ground and landing with a loud thump.

The last person to speak was Prince Nestor. I hummed a bit, holding a sobbing Ariadne in my arms. It felt good to be trusted for once.

"I'll spare the niceties. My wife was a beautiful, kind, fair woman. We all acknowledge that. To be frank, we never truly loved each other. We were simply fair rulers who knew how to lead a nation."

The crowd burst into murmurs. "He didn't love her?!?!" one noble lady behind me whispered.

"And I thought they were some fairytale romance!"

"Yes, yes, I know it is a bombshell, but that is not why I am up on this stage. I want to tell our dear Eastlandian citizens the truth, the cold, hard truth about our Queen." Nestor slammed his hand against the microphone, making us all jump in surprise.

"There have been speculations that my daughter had killed Emily. At first, I thought they were ridiculous, but only last night did I realize that my own daughter is a monster."

"What is he talking about?" Adonis asked. I felt a pit in my stomach. I knew exactly what he was talking about.

Unless he was talking about how I put milk before the cereal this morning, he was accusing me of murder.

"I ask you all, where is my son, Ivan? When was the last time you saw him?"

I looked at my feet. More murmurs emerged, and Ariadne stirred. Cecilia made a big show of looking around, while Adonis didn't make a move, still trained on Nestor's speech.

"After killing my wife, the monster was caught and put back to prison... But she knew she was to be queen. Furthermore, she knew that Ivan was the citizen's favorite, and therefore a threat to her throne. What if he overthrew her? Unable to bear the thought of losing her crown, Her Royal Majesty Queen Helen murdered her own brother the night she came to the palace."

Ariadne sat straight up, looking at me with a shocked expression. I didn't meet her beautifully blue eyes, though. I stared at my feet, but that wasn't enough to douse the gasps of the entire kingdom.

Ah, yes. Of course. Of course, he would do this to me just when I thought things were getting better.

"No..." My lip trembled. I couldn't seem to be able to speak. "I object! I am not guilty!"

Nestor ignored me. "Do you not believe me?" he spat. Suddenly, the television screens beside the stage flickered on, revealing a picture of me dragging Ivan's body in the dark night, blood trailing behind me. "Behold! Your queen!"

There were screams all around me. I could feel thousands of eyes glaring at me, men and women livid, cursing me out. I could feel the glare of the cameras, their drones making circles all around me. I could feel the flashing lights of the press.

click.

"Helen?" Ariadne's voice was full of hurt. I didn't dare meet her eyes, for fear I would burst into tears.

click.

"I-I swear this is fake... I didn't kill him!"

"Sorry to break it to you, but I think a picture of you dragging his body around is quite some evidence," Cecilia said sarcastically, examining her nails.

"He... He's lying, I swear, Ariadne, you have to believe me-"

"Why would he lie about this?" Ariadne croaked. I rose my head to meet her eyes and immediately regretted it. Tears filled her face, mascara running down her pretty face. "I trusted you!"

"Ari-"

She kicked me right in the stomach, which wouldn't have hurt that much if she didn't have heels that were probably twice my height. I groaned in pain, and she stomped away. "Bring me my limo!"

The rest of the crowd was in chaos. I could feel people rushing to take their shoes off, following Ariadne's lead, throwing them at me. One shoe. And another. Soon, there was a pool of people's shoes around me, and the pain was so immense I could barely process what was happening around me. This pain was worse than anything, worse than any of the insults I had received, worse than any of the snide comments I heard behind my back.

They all said different things, remarks about my sanity, insults of my ugly face, mockery of my pathetic form, now scrunched up on the floor, tears slipping down my face. It was never going to end. They would all hate me.

Even though there were so many people, so many words, so many shoes, the idea was clear.

I was never going to belong here.

I was never going to belong anywhere.

I sobbed.

Where are you, Fred?

After a few moments, I could feel hands pulling me to my feet, forcing me to stand until I just collapsed back again.

"Oh, she's pathetic... just let her die on the floor!"

"And she has the audacity to act like the victim here!"

"... Come on, don't you think we're a bit hard on her?"

"Hard on someone who has killed her mother, her sister, AND her brother? No way."

My tears blurred my vision, but even if I weren't crying, I'd have been oblivious to the world around me, anyway. It was like my brain had shut down. I couldn't think, I couldn't stand, I couldn't talk. I could just cry and writhe on the floor like a miserable worm that could be stomped on at any moment.

"Come on," I heard a gruff man growl. "Get up."

I stayed on the floor, my whole body shaking.

"Get up, you."

I couldn't stand up. I tried, but I could no longer control my body. I was simply an empty shell, devoid of all functions.

He kicked me, and I couldn't even scream. I could only sob.

"Get up!"

"I... I can't," I said. My voice was so small, so pitiful that barely anyone could possibly understand my mumbling.

"I said, GET UP!"

He kicked me again, this time straight to the chest, and my body writhed. I sobbed again, collapsing — if possible — even more to the floor, my whole body hugging the concrete underneath me, almost as if I was begging it to take me with it, to make me magically disappear.

Of course, it didn't.

"I can't do this today." I finally recognized the voice. It was David E. Yang, ever so exasperated. "This is deplorable."

"We must protect Princess Ariadne at all costs. She could be next."

David sighed, waving the soldier off. "Yes. I'll get to that. You, the small one?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Escort her back to the palace."

"Yes, sir!"

I felt a woman's arm hauling me up. I could feel soldiers filing out, each person marching in perfect synchronization.

The soldier David had instructed to help me sighed. They stopped trying to haul me up and instead got to work, picking up the shoes that had piled around me and throwing them away.

"Hey," she said. I moaned in agony. "Are you alright?"

"What do you think?" I sneered, turning away from her.

She was silent, then kneeled down as a shoe caught her in the leg. She didn't flinch the slightest bit. I opened my eyes, for real this time, so I could see her. "Hey. You can't give up yet."

"Why bother?" I sobbed again, my blonde hair, now a mess of dirt, mopping the floor. She reached over to pat my back, but I cowered away. "They want me gone, anyway."

"If you give up, that means you're a coward."

"I would rather be a coward than suffer through this." I curled my body into a fetal position again, sobs racking my whole body. 

The soldier was silent. She kept picking up the shoes and throwing them into the garbage can, sighing.

I bit my lip.

"If you give up, that means you're a coward."

Who even cared if I was a coward or not if I was already the most hated person in Eastland?

"You're the queen. You get to boss everyone else around. No one can make you feel insignificant or put you down."

But being queen seemed to make everything worse.

At least, if I were just another commoner, they would just throw me in prison again. No press would come, filled with questions, no angry citizens would throw shoes at your face...

"Hey. Helen."

She didn't call me "Your Majesty." For that, I was grateful. I didn't think I could bear to be called the queen again.

I looked up, wiping the tears from my eyes.

"I know it must seem hopeless. I get it. But life is full of ups and downs, isn't it? It's only going to get better. After all, what's the worst that could happen? It's already happened, and it's over." She smiled at me, offering me a hand to stand up. "Sometimes, the best thing to do is to just move on. You're not doing any good just sitting here."

I didn't move.

"Come on, Helen," she whispered. "You don't have to think of the future or what you're gonna do after this. Just do the next right thing and stand up."

I nodded, sniffing. My legs shook as I rose, holding on to the soldier's arm for support. It seemed like I had lost all sense of coordination.

"Come on. One step at a time, okay?"

I followed her words, making my way down the stairs. It seemed so slow, so tedious, but each step took so much effort. Why did I have to take so many steps to reach the end?

Before long, though, we came to a single black car. She waited patiently as I collapsed into the seat, my body still shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

She hopped into the driver's seat and the engine started humming. I watched the window, trying to wipe the tears that just kept coming down my face, to no avail. The individual buildings and people turned into a blur as we swept through the traffic of the city.

I was grateful that she didn't try to strike conversation because I would have burst into more tears if I tried to speak again.

I watched the city come and go, each streetlight and building sweeping past us. I wondered how much effort, how many years it had taken to build such a city, with so many details. Each crack of the pavement, each pile of plastic on the floor, was so beautiful in its own way. It wasn't shiny; it wasn't perfect or clean... The imperfections made life worth so much more.

I realized that was the reason I hated the palace. It was beautiful, yes, but everyone tried to make themselves someone their not. They covered up every imperfection, every wrinkle on their faces, every bit of stain on their clothing, every thought that they had but couldn't say for fear of backlash. It was the thoughts left unsaid that really scared me.

We arrived at the back door of the palace, to avoid paparazzi that could trample me half to death. The soldier was silent, patiently waiting for me to get out of the car.

I loved it. She trusted me to open the door, even though everyone had opened them for me. It was just wrong, I decided, to make someone open the door for me. It felt as if no one thought I was smart or able enough to open a simple door, even if it was supposed to make me feel powerful enough to force others to do things for me.

The car door opened with a click and I slid out, dusting my dress.

I turned back to the soldier. "Thank you," I croaked. My voice sounded like an untuned guitar.

She gave me a curt nod and the window started to slide shut.

A thought struck my mind. "Wait!" I rushed to her as fast as I could (which wasn't that fast, anyway) as she started to drive away, and she stopped. I dug in my lavish ivory purse. "Here." I pulled out a couple of bills and handed them to her. "Thanks for the ride."

She stared at the money and shook her head. "I was only taking orders, your majesty-"

"Oh, please just shut up. I am no majesty." I stuffed the bills into her hand and rushed away before she could do anything.

I slammed the door behind me, making sure to lock it, and slumped to the floor. This was some kind of small back opening where barely anyone bothered to come. Therefore, the floors were uncleaned and dusting, paint peeling off of the walls, the lights cheap and unused. It looked nothing like the glamourous palace that I had seen.

If I weren't already on the floor, the next stab of pain would've knocked me off my feet. I grimaced, trying to alleviate the pain, frantically rubbing at my abdomen.

What was next? Do I run away? I turned my head against the wall, my cheeks pressing against the dust. I could just run... maybe to Northland, which was a common immigration destination. I could pass off as just another desperate immigrant wanting to start anew — which wasn't a lie — and start life as a peasant there. Ariadne would be a wonderful queen, with her charisma. I wouldn't have to worry about a single thing...

And with that thought, I passed out.

...

...

...

You don't really know the moment you fall unconscious. It was just like falling asleep, really. It was just a lulling sensation, a string that tugged you into unconsciousness, a blur of thoughts and emotions that you wouldn't remember when you woke up. But no matter what, when you woke up, things were always just slightly different. Maybe your stuffed animal traveled from your arms to the other side of the bed (who knows how it got there) or maybe it was just the sunlight that shone from the window that woke you.

The thing was? When I woke up, it was almost exactly the same.

I was still alone, in an abandoned corner of the palace. The light from the door had turned red, the only change that had happened in the moments I was asleep.

I stumbled to my feet, still leaning against the wall. My dress was torn and dirt filled the black fabric. I tore the dress from my body, only leaving the lovely little black sweater that was still relatively in good shape. The leggings were still too tight for my taste, but it was better than having to burden myself with a dress.

I opened the door and a cool breeze immediately swept into my face, brushing off the sticky leftovers of tears that still streaked my face. Golden red light poked out from the clouds, dancing across the sky until it hit the floor. Small drops of water drizzled down, red light glistening off of them.

I let out a small laugh as another burst of wind blew into my hair. A single drop of rain fell onto my nose and I shook it off, the sudden cold almost magically bringing me back to life.

Here I was, alone again. But this time, I didn't need to seek the approval of others. I was fine being alone right now, with the rain and the sunlight and the clouds. No... I wasn't alone, because life was all around me. The rain and the sun — the two necessities to life. Without the sun, we would become a cold husk. Without the rain, we would become dry and meaningless. And I had both of them, right here, by my side.

"It looks like a war has just ended."

"That's good, isn't it? War is over. It's time to recover, it's time to count the dead. It's time to rebuild, refurbish, reclaim."

Only yesterday, I had just come to the palace. Ivan had led me to my room, and he had told me those same exact words under the same exact sunset.

And only two days ago, I had just come back from another shower, officers circling me, watching my every move. I wouldn't have even known that the sky was so red, so beautiful. I would have just seen the same bars of blood.

In fact, the last time I had seen a sunset was... when I was seven.

They had offered me all the necessities of a prisoner before then. A lovely day in the courtyard, a quaint little window, a mattress...

But on my seventh birthday, we had celebrated. The officers had taken pity on me and we held a small birthday party for me in the courtyard. All the prisoners received a tiny slice of cake that day, and we danced around the yard, sung songs, enjoyed ourselves.

The very next day, the press had posted pictures of the party everywhere and accused Yang of giving me special treatment since I was a princess, even though he had nothing to do with the party. I would have felt sorry for him if he hadn't moved me to a worse cell afterward, one without windows, without a private shower, without a mattress. They still took me to the courtyard, but it was in the dead of night when it would be hard to take a photo, and we had to be deathly quiet. Soon, they stopped bothering to bring me to the courtyard at all.

The officers told Yang that it was my idea, that I had exerted my royal power and forced them to throw the party for me. I never looked them in the eye again.

I had forgotten what a sunset truly looked like. And now here it was, enveloping me in comfort and cooling warmth. It was almost as if it were welcoming me. To what, I did not know.

I didn't have to run away.

I didn't need to run away.

I had everything I ever needed here.

And that's when I turned back and ventured into yet another day.