THE LONE PRINCESS

Today is one of the most universally celebrated days of a person's entire existence but l just can't seem to get myself in the mood of celebrating my 21st birthday. Many people proclaim this day to be magical, life changing, liberating, you name it. Unfortunately for me, being knee deep in debt and depression hinders me from feeling any emotion either than sadness. Having been an only child to my awesomely heart wrenching parents molded me to be this pathetic excuse of a human being and helped in making the equally pathetic life decisions. Every waking day that goes by, the feeling of resentment and regret eats me up further increasing the dark hole in my heart. The one gift l have always wanted to give myself was happiness and today reaching a milestone in life has me channeling my mind to be more positive.

Stepping out of my run down city apartment, the warm Conorian air hits me like a thousand electric shots. Being from a small town in the heart of Africa always provides a feeling of comfort, a feeling of belonging that l will never change for anything in the world. Having been abandoned by my parents at a young age, l was forced to navigate myself through this world9 until l stumbled upon this beautiful small town called Conorian which has been one of the biggest blessings in life. The town is very welcoming, it is full of life and culture. However l wont say the same for the racist folks who reside here.

At times when life knocks me down from this little nonchalant bubble l have created around myself, where l act unaffected about my parents sudden departure from my life, the challenges l endure on a daily basis as well as the hated and resentment l feel within me, l always ask myself what it is that drove them to leave me behind. Although they weren't the most caring or loving, they were all l had. When l was little l would always ask my mother why she hadn't aborted me if she knew she didn't want me in her life and her answer with always be menacing as ever, " l didn't know l would have a pathetic excuse of a child to call my own" which is the cause of my inablitiy to believe in myself or the human race. Although l woud say that was one of the nicest things she had ever said to me.

With the only qualification l was fortunate enough to obtain due to the series of ups and downs of life, l was able to find a job in a small cafe downtown. Our boss is one of the kindest people l have ever come across in my now 21 years of living especially in Coronian . A grandfather l was never lucky to have. In the little time that l knew my parents, they had never mentioned having any family members, so they were the only family l ever knew. Even with his kind heart, his small unpopular café hardly makes enough money to operate and adding to that employing ten employees has lead to a pathetic excuse of a paycheck.

The cafe l work at is called Ladadum. The very strange yet unique name that rolls of the tongue houses a very quiet and unpopular café amongst the residents of Coronian. Being on the outskirts of the city, most people find it a drag to come all the way for coffee and cakes and rather go to our 'rival' café Coletta. Regardless of the many disadvantages that come with working here, l wouldn't work anywhere else. The other employees weren't all welcoming at first as was and still am the only black person here, infact l am the only black person in the whole of Coronian. But thankfully to Mr Lewensdop always fighting for my right to be treated equally, some of the other employees finally warmed up to me. The others just chose to not let their resentment get in the way of their only source of income although you can feel the animosity from a mile away.

Rolling up to work after the 15 minute drive, l am unsettled by the eerie silence that emmitts itself from the somewhat abandoned café. Due to it being a Monday morning, you would assume some of the employees would already be at work. To my amazement, a customer is waiting

outside a locked cafe. A feeling of uneasiness creeps on me due to the fact that behind the café is a little cottage that houses Mr Lewensdop and he usually opens up the café if none of the other employees turn up on time. The uneasiness l feel grows with every step l take towards the doors of the café. Greeting the potential customer who just mean mugs me, l side step her in order to take a peek inside the cafe to see what is going on given the fact that l don't have a key even though l would assume l am Mr Lewensdop favourite employee . Peeking inside through the tinted windows, l feel the colour drain from my face and the air run out of my lungs at the sight in front of me. Sitting on one of the café chairs is Mr Lewensdop with a knife plunged to his forehead. A bloody murder!

Recovering from my momentary shock of finding the dead man sitting not even a mile from me, l turn to look around in hopes of finding help from the customer who was here when l arrived to find her gone. Quickly rushing to my car, l grab my phone from my bag to call the sheriff. To my disappointment the number does not go through. After multiple tries l give up on technology and go on my way to personally find the sheriff to report the injustice that took place.

The once was warm weather has become chilling as if nature is mourning the death of our beloved Mr Lewensdop. The rain beating down on my car making the path back to the buzzing city centre unrecognisable. Due to my horrible eye sight and my trembling hands, the car swerves out of my control and down the rocky mountains.