I was home! Finally! Mum, dad and I were in isolation at Northridge. I wasn’t going to return to school just yet, leaving the house would be limited, but at least we weren’t in that darned hospital anymore. Only certain people were allowed to visit, such as Dr. Robinson (dad’s colleague that brought him work from the university), Dr. May (my doctor) and Josie or Mallorie, that would bring me some work from school. Today I was working on elasticities for economics. I was trying to finish the exercises as fast as possible, to read the book that inexplicably appeared on my bedside table in the hospital, “The Mystery of Anastacia Romanov”. “A friend of yours must have sent this, isn’t it so, Charlotte?”, queried my mother after spotting the book. “Yes”, I answered, “A longtime friend of mine”.
As I read I discovered the life of a princess, much like me, trapped in the orb of royalty. I discovered a simple, clever and mischievous girl within Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia; a girl that was merely Nastya. A ginger-haired girl in a world of dark-haired, ballerina-like creatures; she was alone. And after a life of alienation, the witty girl was murdered; brutally murdered. If everything had gone as planned, I would be this girl. A girl violently slaughtered along with the rest of her family. But I was alive.
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