The Queen of Nightfall

I was the Queen of Nightfall, my favourite nightclub. The neon lights flashed, and the lasers shivered the walls. The colours were vivid and bright, brilliant against the dark of the club, like a daytime sky at midnight. The smoke fogged in and out of my vision, the neon lights from the club filtering and distorting the reality around me.

The sweat on my skin glistened in the haze, spinning, and moving with the music. The smells were foreign and familiar, the sweat and cologne of the men, the designer perfume and hair products of the women.

The taste of gin, bourbon, vodka, beer, scotch, rum, tequila, whiskey, wine. The taste of sweat, of cigarettes, burning or smoke-free. The club was a cacophony of techno and house, the thump of bass, the boom of drums, the screech of dubstep, the whoops of drunk girls, catcalls from intoxicated guys, laughter, and the sound of something breaking as it headed for the ground with accompanying cries.

My heart raced and bright spots of colour flashed in the corners of my vision. I felt completely alive as my arms stretched to the sky, my hips swayed from side to side, and my feet moved with a grace I’d never known before. With Denise laughing beside me, I embraced this euphoric freedom without a single worry in the world.

I felt the tight grip of four hands on my arms, and I screamed in horror as they pulled me away from Denise, who stood motionless with an expression of surprise. They dragged me towards the big black sedan with bulletproof windows, as curious bystanders looked on in bewilderment. I was pulled through the dark hallway, my feet stumbling along the scuffed floor. The lights in the building were dim, and I felt as if I were in a daze. Every time the man holding my arm tugged it harder to speed up their pace, I felt an unnerving fog fall over me like a blanket, blurring my vision and making it hard to think straight. Was it from the drinks or drugs? I could not be sure, but one thing was certain: I did not want to leave.

My panicked shrieks pierced the dense silence of the evening, echoing through the bustling city streets of Garamiux as my royal transporter raced away, its wheels clacking and screeching over cobblestones. In a flurry of movement, the looming vehicle disappeared around corners and behind corners, as bystanders stood in awe at the sight while a distant rumble rolled across the horizon, signalling its hasty departure until it finally faded out completely into the night sky like a streak of lightning against a blanket of darkness.

“Princess Gabriella!” A voice called out to me, but I could not distinguish where it came from. “Princess Gabriella!” The voice called again.

“I’m not here!” I said with a grin. “Try the next house.” I giggled.

Suddenly, a flashlight was shined into my eyes as fingers were trying to keep my eyelids open.

“Hey! Cut it out...” I tried to say but it came out something else.

“She’s totally high! I thought you two were supposed to keep an eye on her!” The voice scolded, and I smiled sheepishly.

“I’m sorry! But you know how hard she is to keep track of.”

“Can you hear me, Princess Gabriella?” The voice repeated. I nodded, trying to focus on what now a shadowy figure emerging from time to time when the passing lights of the road illuminated the inside of the car.

“Your parents’ plane has crashed; they are searching for them as we speak. They are doing everything they can....”

The words faded to background noise as my heart raced and all my senses were drawn inward. The only thing I could hear in that moment was the sound of my own laboured breathing, the pounding of my pulse in my ears, echoing like a drum in an empty hall.

As if in a daze, I followed my bodyguards inside where everyone had gathered for an emergency meeting about what had happened to me and how to proceed after such tragedy. I remember the smell of coffee, coffee that I could not taste. I also remember the smell of old coffee, and I wondered if it was mine or if I had accidentally spilled some. Through it all, I closed my eyes, trying to focus my other senses. The sounds of the room were muffled and dull, as if I was underwater. I remember feeling the soft cushion beneath me, and I clung to it for dear life. It was the only thing that could lift me from the darkness and the sleep I so desperately wanted.

I jolted awake at the sudden silence that followed the adjournment of the meeting and watched as everyone dispersed. After wandering through the palace hallways, I eventually made my way back to my bedroom door. Dark and empty, my room seemed to mock me with its silence - a reminder of two people so dear that had been taken away from me forever. Blinded by tears, I stumbled towards bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

The weeks that followed were a blur of muffled conversations, as every channel on the TV replayed news of what had happened to me. Every hallway was filled with whispered words about me, my pain, and what I had lost. Everywhere I went it felt like I was being forced to experience it all over again.

I felt the creak of the wooden chairs and the fidgeting of the older court members fill the room as anxious eyes looked to me, their new leader. My father’s influence was fading fast, and I had become a pillar in their infrastructure. Questions on matters small and large were constantly being asked of me; no subject too minor or unimportant for my attention. I felt the weight of expectation with every word I spoke; my mother’s wishes for me never far from my mind.

I despised these people! I shouldered the burden of making choices that would have monumental repercussions on thousands of lives. There were those who looked to me with such trust and admiration, as if I were a maternal figure.

I hated them with every fibre in my body, constantly harassing me prodding me, and I could not share this crushing burden with anyone else. The pure hatred in my heart burned like a raging inferno consuming my soul as I watched them haunt me, mock me, and bully me with no intent of their own. My tears fell like rain pattering around the graveyard as her casket descended into the depths of the earth.

The bishop’s words echoed throughout the night like furious thunderbolts, “For dust you are and to dust you will return”. The words shook me to my core, for they had become a harsh reminder of my fury and grief. I clenched my fists so tightly, desperately wanting to fall into my mothers grave and lay alongside her - to never part again!

I was jolted awake by a loud knock on my door, and I immediately remembered the plane crash that had changed everything. Each morning I awoke with dread, remembering the days before when I could laugh carefreely with friends, and dance under the stars at Nightfall - those happy moments were now just memories.

I lay in my bed, motionless, as the maids of the bedchamber opened the door and greeted me. I felt like I should rise, to do something productive with my day, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. My body was asking for duty and responsibility to help me get up, but I was all out! Despite feeling an irresistible urge to make something of myself, I remained paralyzed, unable to get up.

My steward nearly skipped into the room, calling out to me with a smile. “Princess Gabriella, it’s time to rise and shine! Today is a big day - you must prepare for your coronation ceremony this afternoon.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, smothering the sobs that threatened to escape. I clenched my fists against my chest, willing myself to stay in this bed, to stay hidden away from the awful truth that had landed on me like a dread curse. I never wanted to wear the crown, to rule with an iron fist or have my life bound by chains of responsibility. I couldn’t take it anymore, I just didn’t want to be queen...

I felt a rush of cold air engulf me as the blankets were ripped away from my skin. My eyes flew open to find my steward David standing at the side of my bed, my face filled with shock. My mouth hung agape and my eyes darted away as I attempted to avert my gaze from my own naked body that was suddenly exposed to the chill of the air.

I confidently gazed at my reflection in the mirror, admiring my toned figure. My slender waistline curved up to a flat stomach that revealed just the slightest hint of abs. Above it, my chest coaxed out two firm breasts that seemed larger than what one might expect for my frame.

“What the actual fuck!” I snorted and my nostrils flared as I glared at David, my court steward. “I’m so sorry your majesty, I didn’t know that...” In my fury, I could feel a surge of energy move through me and I used it to push myself off the soft silk sheets of my bed. I took a few steps towards David before my words began to trail off in recognition of my annoyance. Ignoring him, I threw on my embroidered silk robe that was draped over the nearby chair and stormed past him, the ends of the robe billowing behind me as I strode angrily to the table where breakfast was served on a silver tray.

As I tucked into my breakfast, a plate of tropical fruit salad, David walked up to me and stopped a few meters behind me. “I humbly beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness,” he started, his voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t realize that you...Your Highness usually wears that silk pyjamas, and...”

“Get on with your life, who cares!” I replied, waving my hand at him dismissively. I certainly wasn’t feeling very regal or in the mood for any excessive flattery.

Finishing my breakfast with a cup of Cafe Latte, I walked over to the wardrobe, eagerly anticipating what they had picked out for me. But when I opened the doors, an abundance of fabric greeted me- frilly petticoats; long gowns encrusted with jewels and lace; hats adorned with feathers. All in shades of pink and aquamarine. My mouth dropped open in shock before I let out a yell: “Are you fucking kidding me?” I cried out in disbelief. “Do you want me to look like a fucking birthday cake?” The thought of this coronation being even more demanding than I expected already taking its toll on my morning ritual of getting dressed.

The clock ticked ominously as I hurried through the marble lobby. The last-minute fitting of the newly made dress was underway, and five tailors scrambled to get it finished. Stray threads were snipped and pins flew as they tugged and pinned fabric into place.

I stepped through the wide doorway of the conference room, and seven pairs of eyes shot in my direction. My advisors had already sprung from their chairs around the massive oak table at my entrance. Tailors worked swiftly around me, stitching yards of vibrant silk fabric. I caught glimpses of gold thread as it was wound around my corset laces and pearls sewn onto my hems. I stared in confusion at my advisors, all of them frozen with their mouths wide open. “What?” I questioned, feeling impatient. “They are making a dress for me. Get on with it, tell me what I need to know!” I told my advisors.

They seemed to get their grip together, and ignoring the fact we were late, and I didn’t have a dress yet. They explained the procedure of the coronation to me and talked about what was expected. It wasn’t that complicated, but they seemed to think it was a big deal. When they had made sure I had understood everything we ended the meeting and they rushed off to continue the preparations.

I had made it with five minutes to spare. Glancing at my reflection in the full-length mirror, I admired my unique creation - a dress fit for a royal, yet its design was modern and vibrant. The dress was white silk and lace with a gold satin lining. The bottom layer is silk, thin and light, and the top layer is lace, thick and full. The plain white silk then transforms into a cascade of intricate lace. It sparkles with light, so bright you can’t see past it. The gold lining shimmers in the light of the sun, a tiny reflection of the blood red rubies sewed into the lace. It hugged my breasts and waist, showing subtle hints of curves and dips, but nothing too revealing. The pearls sewn onto the hems of the dress felt smooth and round as I let my hand grace the fabric.

The makeup artists had also done a fantastic job on me. My makeup didn’t even show, it all looked like it would be my natural look, highlighting my natural beauty, with earthy colours and a dash of spring.

The jeweller brought out the necklace and gingerly placed the weighty necklace around my neck, tightening the clasp. It was a magnificent creation of white gold and diamonds that wrapped around my neck in three delicate rows. At its centre hung two giant oval pink diamonds teasing towards my cleavage. They were breath-taking and larger than I had ever seen. Rings adorned with similar pink diamonds were placed on my fingers to complete the transformation, reflecting off the light as I moved.

I gazed at my reflection as I stood there, a princess ready to take the throne. I was all set, but still waiting. Waiting for my dad to give me a kiss on the cheek and say how beautiful I look. For my mom to tell me to hurry up with her warm and loving smile. But I would be waiting forever, they were dead and gone, and as the reality crept up on me, it made me feel dead and cold inside, lonely and frail.

And I desperately wanted to get high again.

Just one more fix!

Just one... more