This may have been the typical situation in which a little girl would fantasize about. You know, the 4"0 dollop of sweetness who ran around the yard with a floral crown screaming how she was a princess. Begging for her parents to look over at her twirling around in the dress her mother had made for her. The elegant locks of hair swaying behind her as the wind carried her. That was always how I pictured it. The dream of wanting to be a princess when they grew up.

Instead, that had been a life I had escaped. Exactly when I was that age. Funny isn't it? I'm sure any girl would have died to take my place. Some had assumed I was dead. That's how bad it had gotten. I could remember the day somewhat clearly, though some parts were blurry. I guess you could compare it to a television with bad picture. Scratchy, but still able to view the picture. That's how it had been. It was a cold day, damp from the rain that had hit just that afternoon. I hadn't fled till nighttime. I can still remember the appearance of my large room. Pink wallpaper surrounding it, with a small child size vanity with different coloured lip glosses. I remember having a giant stuffed unicorn I had loved. My mother had gotten it for my birthday, which I suppose I will never see again.

My balcony had a vine on the outside, just beside the marble railings. It was sturdy enough to hold my little legs, but my arms were short and stubby, making it hard for me to reach out. Eventually I did. But before I did, I remember peering into my room through the shining gold painted doors. Of course, I had my reasons for leaving. I had an older sister you see. She was favoured much more than I had been. Beautiful chestnut brown locks falling gently onto her shoulders, and her long eyelashes fluttering to lure people in, it was no surprise. She was my family's favourite, while I was the peoples'. I wondered what it would be like if I disappeared for awhile. Would they care? I was a curious little mind.

I never did end up going back. It's been 15 years. Of course, I didn't take care of myself all on my own. Remember, it had been a cold night the day I left. I could only remember huddling between two closed shops, assuming one had been a bakery due to the slight smell escaping from it even though it had been shut. It made me starve, only to wonder if I should have gone back to eat a delicious gourmet meal. I told myself no and shut my eyes, only a voice to startle me.

"Little lady, what are you doing here all alone?!" It was the voice of a soft woman's. I couldn't make out her appearance, but by her tone, it was gentle, so I assumed she had appeared to be too. "Patrick, come here. Come look at this." She called out to her husband, aka, my father now. I heard his approaching footsteps and heard a car door shut. When he saw me, he had no hesitation to approach me.

"Your name darlin'? Come on now, don't be shy." He held his hand out to me. Being brought up to give kindness, I took his hand as he helped me up from the cold pavement. It was a bit damp.

"...Viola." My shaking voice told them.

"Viola? As in the Princess Viola?" My "mother" had spoke back. "Oh no your majesty, you must return sweetie! We'll-"

"No! Please don't." I remember running into her legs, due to how short I was, I couldn't reach her shoulders. I begged, hugging her tightly. "I do not want to go back. Please take me home with you. I beg of you." My politeness was still evident, but I had sounded more demanding than ever.

"But won't your family discover your absence? I'm sorry darling but we must. Come on let's go." She attempted to remove herself from me, but I hadn't let her. I clung onto her tighter than ever, feeling wet pitiful tears roll down my cheeks.

Of course, they gave into me with enough persuasion. From then, I started everything over. Much different than usual, it was quite difficult, but to this day, I'm used to it. From making meals myself for when my parents were away at work, and cleaning my own room, the exhaustion had me sometimes debating to go back. I knew I never would. Just the stressful thoughts would return to me. But there was one day I remember the most than ever. That day you ask?

This present day. The one where I am telling my story currently. My name is Viola. I'm 22 years old and still live with my so called "parents". I'd love to tell you more of my story about all the assumptions that began when I went missing. From being accused of being kidnapped, and even murdered, the headlines continued until I convinced myself one day to watch a television broadcast. I remember my mother and father sitting on the sofa side by side, turning around to hear my footsteps.

"Viola!" My mother exclaimed, switching off the channel from the royal broadcast. It made me giggle a little how she had felt so guilty from watching it. I reassured her that in no way did it bother me.

"It's alright mom. Let's watch it. I'm somewhat interested anyway." I spoke back to her sitting in the creme coloured chair beside them. Sitting cross legged, she hesitantly switched the channel back to the broadcast in front of my kingdom. Or erm, the kingdom I should say. I hadn't considered it to be my home anymore. I viewed myself and them as different people now. I was a commoner. I had become accustomed to this life. Yet, somehow, I felt weird just seeing the view.

I felt an odd sensation in my stomach as I watched the king and queen standing above on the main balcony, waving down to the people. Alongside my sister, I looked to see she was now a very grown woman. Being 26, her face had matured very much in a very attractive way. Her hair was longer, gently curled at the ends. But something in her face was off. As if she hadn't wanted to be there. She put on a smile, but it was forced. I could always tell, even when I was younger.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming to this momentous occasion. We appreciate your presence very much." The queen spoke on a small black microphone attached to her lace dress which also consisted of long lace sleeves. It was a beautiful violet colour. Tuning in, I could feel my parents gaze on me as I was surprisingly glued to the television.

"Jessica, our dear daughter, is now engaged to the Prince of Philip, or as formally known as Prince Wilfred."

Gasps and cheers filled the air, and my mouth opened wide enough to catch flies. My sister was engaged. To the prince of Philip. I shot my eyes back at my parents who had a small envelope in their hands. May I remind you that my parents were event coordinators. Throughout the country, they worked with even the royals in setting up events. I could tell by the guilty looks on their faces that this whole time, they knew.

"...Why didn't you tell me?" I stood up, smoothing out the hem on my baby pink sundress. "What is the invitation for?" I asked them, while my father opened up the letter, soon handing it up to me, not before speaking.

"You don't have to go. We don't expect you to. But it's entirely up to you."

"Your father is right Viola. She still is your sister. But after all these years...I'm sure you have your hesitations."

I listened to them while my eyes scanned over each and every sentence of the letter. It was indeed an invitation. Listed, was my sisters name and the prince's name beside each other in italics. The kingdoms name was bolded in bright letters stating "Brookhide Kingdom invites you to attend the engagement party of Princess Jessica and Prince Wilfred." Gritting my teeth together, I folded the paper in my hands, slipping it back into the snow white envelope with my parents names' on it. Breathing in as much as my lungs could take, I looked back at my parents with a strong gaze.

"...I guess we're going aren't we?"