Schizophrenia, but she was compliant, wanted to fight the disease. He went to her, held her as she cried. As she apologized time and time again, as she breathed her desire for him, her desire to be with him always. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, but he told her that he loved her, and that he always would. He felt her resolve grow under the shape of his words, and when he told her he would come back next week the strength he saw in her eyes filled him with joy. Her mother, too, had expressed support in the only way she knew how, in a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel. She was older now, her career on the wane but she was still very much the desirable leading lady — in his script, anyway. She held on to him that night with a fierceness that had left him breathless, yet when she whispered in his ear that she loved him his heart had tumbled, because he knew he loved her too. Impossible not too, he told himself, when he looked into those eyes. When he spoke those words she fell. With a relentless sun ablaze, high in the blue cloudless sky. Where, at first, Prince sat, undecided upon whether he was up to the task. He had after all, only just turned s*******n, like yesterday. Could he truly rescue a damsel from her distress? But finally he decided to brave the challenge and rescue the sixteen year old birthday girl from her hundred years of sleep. Saddling his horse, foil in hand, he checked his map, ‘Cock Lane!’, he read out aloud, shrugged his shoulders, folded it, tucked it into his codpiece pocket and headed off in the right direction. He rode out towards the castle, missing the small signpost which read, ‘Castle, easy entrance this way, only five yards’. With a painted hand pointing towards a quaint little, red wooden gate. Instead and many hot hours later, he found himself facing the metaphorical huge monster of a bush. The castle covered in thick dark green leafy brier to hack away at. A hedge, which needed more than just a quick trimming. ‘Well Fuck.
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