The young girl thrashes on the bed, screeching loud enough to wake the ones six feet under. Her body flails sporadically, and incoherent words fly from her busted lips. The nurses refuse to enter the room where the insane woman does everything but rest. Illogical, random outbursts are the norm at the institute, but Sophie’s tantrums are in another league compared to the other patients.

Horrid memories flash behind her clenched eyelids, memories of dead bodies scattered around her, memories of war. “Let me go!” she screams, testing her restraints. The disgruntled girl repeats the mantra, but her cries fall upon deaf ears. No one is coming to help her; no one is coming to save her.
Sophie is pulled back to the past year where she suffered agonizing pain. The nurses and doctors insisted her corrupted mind imagined the entire ordeal, but she knows it was real. Every single detail of her journey is inscribed in her brain. No matter what the others preach, the panicking patient will always know that she did not simply imagine the hardships and betrayal.
The heavy iron door is slowly pushed open to reveal a doctor. Hobbling to her bed, the man hushes her with promises of listening to her farfetched story. Sophia’s breath is labored, and she struggles to form coherent sentences. “He… he did this,” Sophie begins, unable to control her panting, “to me.”
“Who did this to you?” the judgmental doctor asks with a heavy sigh, already preparing himself for the spew of lies.
Sophie repeats strongly, “He did this to me!” When the doctor asks again, the patient groans impatiently. “The king! The king did this to me!” There’s no use in answering anymore questions that the man throws at her; he won’t listen anyway. No one does.
The wretched king pulled her in with a sob story and crocodile tears. The sickening fiend stole her trust along with her heart, and he managing to unceremoniously shatter both. And to think that she was in love with the monster! Yes, Sophie was definitely and irrevocably in love with the man she first met. She loathed, and continues to loathe, the man he became. He became a liar, a thief, and a conman. But, maybe, he had always been.
“Sophie,” a nurse timidly calls, “you have a visitor.”
No one has ever visited her. She remains silent, curious to see who the visitor is. Her mother and only living relative died while she was staying at the castle, and her friend count is a whopping zero. She can’t think of anyone that would waste ten minutes of their life on her.
The tall, muscular man enters the room without caution. He carries himself as if he visits every week. He doesn’t glance around at what should be a new sight. Instead, he strides straight to the foot of Sophie’s bed and focuses his intense gaze on her. Sophie tries to scream, but she’s unable to.
The king looks exactly like he did a month ago. The stubble coating his jaw remains, along with his confident smirk. He hasn’t lost a single ounce of muscle. In fact, his biceps are a tad bit bigger. The king raises an eyebrow, challenging Sophie.
“Are you sure you want to check Sophie out, Mr.Chevoskie?” a nurse asks from behind the man.
Sophie doesn’t want to leave with this man, but the nurses at the institution don’t bat an eye as she struggles. They just want her gone.
“Absolutely.” His voice hasn’t changed. It’s still gravelly yet smooth, nonchalant yet demanding. He raises his index finger to his mouth, signaling for her to be quiet. Sophie listens.
“Alright, I’ll go grab her belongings.” The nurse leaves the two alone.
The king steps closer to Sophie’s rigid frame. He gently places his palms on the sides of her face, and grins mysteriously.
When the nurse returns, the couple is gone.