Finding Prince Charming

Chapter One

Natalie

Eight Years Old

“Once upon a time there lived a little…” My mom stops speaking to cough and I wait patiently for her to continue. Her coughing lately has gotten worse. I’ve asked her to go to the doctor, but she tells me she’s fine.

I reach over across my bed and grab a tissue for her. When she wipes her mouth, blood smears the tissue. “Mom, are you okay?” I ask nervously. Something has to be wrong. Coughing up blood can’t be good.

“I’m fine, baby,” she says, a fake smile spreading across her lips. “Now, where were we?” She opens the book back up and starts over again. “Once upon a time there lived a little girl named Natalie.”

I grin every time she says my name. One day, when I was little, we were walking through the mall to buy me some new shoes, when I came across a little store that sells books with names in them. The nice lady selling them found my name and, surprisingly, my mom bought it for me.

It took a lot of begging, but when we got home, I got her to read it to me—because at the time I wasn’t old enough to read. It’s about a little girl who sets off on a journey through the magical but evil woods to find her Prince Charming. She escapes all of the scary and bad obstacles standing in her way and makes it to the beautiful, enchanted castle, where she finds Prince Charming waiting for her. He scoops her up into his arms and tells her he loves her and they live happily ever after. From the first time I heard the story, it became my favorite.

“Why doesn’t the prince leave his castle to look for the girl?” I ask Mom. “She has to go through all the bad stuff alone. Why didn’t he just ride into the woods on his horse and save her?”

She sets the book down and glances over at me. I could easily read the story myself now, but she insists she reads it to me every time she’s not high and there are no men in her bedroom—which seems to be a lot lately. The truth is, I’m too old for this book now, but I love my mom reading to me, and I love how the story makes me feel like a princess who’ll one day escape these horrible, evil woods.

“Because the prince didn’t know she was coming,” she says. “And she didn’t know the prince was waiting. He was her surprise after the long, scary journey.”

“I want a prince,” I admit out loud. A man who is kind and sweet, who will hug me and kiss me and give me a beautiful castle to live in. And if I found him, I would tell him my mom has to live with us too.

“One day, you’ll find your Prince Charming,” Mom says, “and when you do, you’ll live happily ever after.”

“What if I don’t find him?” My stomach drops. Or what if the man I find is like the gross, mean men who are always sleeping in my mom’s room?

“Then you will find your own happily ever after.”

Chapter Two

Natalie

Nineteen Years Old

“Yeah, baby, just like that. You’re so fucking good to me.” Weston thrusts his dick down my throat. I choke and gag, saliva dripping down the sides of my mouth. It hurts, especially with the belt tight around my neck, but I don’t stop him because I know it’s what he likes. He likes to be rough, and I like him. I like the way he looks at me like he needs me. I like that when he comes here, he always picks me. He tells me he loves me and that I’m good to him.

“Fuck,” he roars, coming down my throat. “I love you so fucking much.” I take it all, then lick him clean, waiting for what he wants me to do next. It’s hard to breathe, and I can feel the belt chafing against my throat and neck, but I don’t complain. When I do, he gets upset.

“That was so good, baby,” he croons, granting me a smile. “One day I’m going to steal you from here and you’ll be all mine.” He runs a finger down my cheek, and I smile the best I can. I shouldn’t want him, shouldn’t want this. But I crave the attention he gives me, even if it hurts.

“Turn over on your hands and knees,” he demands, his grin morphing into something darker, more sinister.

I do as he says, but when I turn over, the belt tightens along my windpipe. Black dots appear in place of my vision. “I can’t breathe,” I rasp out before I can stop myself. I regret it immediately because Weston doesn’t like when I talk back.