The Dorm Guard 39 Chapter Thirty-Nine: My Little Star

Clinical Depression: Ranges in seriousness from mild, temporary episodes of sadness to severe, persistent depression. Clinical depression is the more-severe form of depression, also known as major depression or major depressive disorder. It isn't the same as depression caused by a loss, such as the death of a loved one, or a medical condition,

*

I thought I had misheard her. She was fifteen, too young to get hitched, but when she repeated it, it sounded eerily the same. We sat in the kitchen, Estelle with a steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hands in my attempt to calm her down.

"My… My parents wanted me to come home, to have the rest of my teachings and cla.s.ses in the palace, where they can… they can keep an eye on me, upkeep me. Especially my Mother." She pressed her hand against her nose. "She had me take my cla.s.ses, perform some duties, and then told me that one of my suitors expressed an interest in me." She sniffed and wiped a fresh tear from her eyes. "Because of what…" she grimaced, "what happened, my reputation amongst royalty was tainted. Nothing but rumours and unclarified stories, but that was enough for people to doubt my upbringing, my mannerisms, my… my Royal Worth."

"Royal Worth?" I was bewildered by what she was telling me. It was barbaric, like something from a storybook.

"Royals are always put in the public eye. Every little thing we do is publicised. I get away with stuff because I'm not one of the big-wig Royals. But my parents want me to be. They want me to be relevant, to be poised, graceful, marriage material." Estelle sounded spiteful, but the sad tone was stronger. "I met him when I went home. That's what the meeting was about." Estelle pressed her hands against her cheeks, trembling for a moment before composing herself with a solemn shake of the head, "His name is Alister Glenrock. He's nineteen, Prince of somewhere. He's tall and smart, and a complete… gentleman." She said the complimentary things with malice.

Estelle cradled the cup in her hands, trying and failing to hide the shake in her hands. "I don't want to marry him," she murmured into the drink, "I don't want to give up the rest of my high school life to be trained and taught how to be a Royal Wife." Her voice wavered again, and like the shake in her hands, she tried to hide it behind a sip of the drink. "But I don't think I have any choice."

"No one can force you to get married, Estelle," I a.s.sured.

Estelle shook her head. "You don't know my Mother or the stigma that's apparently around my name because my purity is in question," she snarled. "Landon, I trust you way more than I trust Glenrock. I like you more then I like Glenrock. I can learn to love you like that, I'm willing to." She was losing her composure again as her breathing became laboured and hissed through her clenched teeth. She added, "I don't want to learn to love Glenrock. I don't want to lose anything to him."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. Estelle got to her feet and hugged me, her arms wrapped tightly around my chest as she tried to hide her tearful eyes against my shirt. "Just something, confirmation of adultery, an illegitimate child, something can get me out of this," her voice was m.u.f.fled against me, "My parents won't disown me, but this way no one will want to marry me. I won't have to go home, I won't have to leave you guys behind."

Estelle had never looked more like a child. The way she held me stole my air, almost crippling me from how scared she seemed. I wanted to hold her, to make everything better, but nothing I might say could be enough, and I felt powerless to do anything.

Estelle seemed to disappear against me when I held. I didn't mean to, but I muttered, "That's so barbaric."

I felt Estelle laugh against me. "It's old-fashioned," she corrected as sniffed and pulled away, wiping her nose with the back of her hand before wiping her eyes. "This was so stupid…" she breathed turning away from me, hiding her face from me, "I'm sorry Landon, I shouldn't have… I'm going to bed."

I caught her hand when she tried to flee. For a split second, everything disappeared, the only thing in my sight was Estelle, everything drowned out as I silence fell between us and neither spoke. Estelle couldn't even look at me.

"Estelle…" I tried, "talk to them. Tell them how you feel. I mean look at you." I walked around her faced her, holding her shoulders, noting how red her eyes were and how shiny her cheeks were, and gently shook her to make my point, "You look absolutely petrified. No good parents will willingly be the cause of their own kid's anxiety."

"Anxiety is something I've had all my life…" Estelle confessed, gently pushing my hands from her shoulder, "I don't even know what causes it anymore." She snuffled a final time, in a single breath hiding the insecurities that only a moment ago made her look close to vomiting, lifted her chin and, with her signature bubbly but tired voice, remarked, "Per my request, my parents are allowing me to finish off this academic year before I am due to go home. I'm sorry for putting this burden on you, Landon, and for my actions this evening." She took a sideways glance at my movie set up. "If you decide to switch over to dramatic Spanish soap operas, let me know. Goodnight."

I didn't stop her from leaving the living room, entirely because I knew nothing I said would help her.

I stood in the kitchen in absolute quiet for a long while, mulling over Estelle's words, and focusing on the heavy stone-like feeling in my stomach. I'm not sure how long I stood there for, only that when I finally did move, my joints almost creaked.

*

When I poked my head into Estelle's room later in the evening, Estelle was sitting on her bed, her eyes still puffy but not nearly as red or sad looking. She was hugging a pillow to herself, earphones jammed in her ears and a laptop light illuminating her face. When I disturbed the darkness, she lifted her head, pulling out an earbud when I approached.

I hadn't ever been in Estelle's room, and in the darkness, I could scarcely make out any features of her room. The closest I could tell was the floral pattern on her bedsheets, and that her side table was made of wood. I frowned when I noticed a pill bottle on the side table - a shape and look I knew all too well. It appeared she had taken her medication recently or taken something.

Perhaps my intentions appeared sinister, or I looked particularly grim as I approached her, but when I stood by her bed, she had retreated the corner of her bed, holding the pillow tighter and looking up at me with moony eyes.

"What do you want?" Estelle murmured. She sounded exhausted.

I held out my phone to her. "It's not going to be solved in one night, or in one conversation, but talk to your parents." When she didn't take the phone, I put it on the loudspeaker. "I've got your daughter here," I said.

Estelle's parents, namely her Father, had very stern but gentle voices. When her Father's voice came from the phone, Estelle dropped her pillow and reached out, holding the phone like a fragile ornament, and turned off the speaker function. "Daddy?" she squeaked.

Estelle's eyes started to swell with tears at the sound of his voice as she sobbed, "Daddy, I did something stupid…"

I slowly exited the room when she started to cry, even from a distance I could hear her Father reconciling her over the phone, a.s.suring her she was okay.

I was glad I had gotten as many of the girls' parent's phone numbers as I could during the first few weeks of being here. It took some convincing of some Royal phone answerer, but I was patched through to the King and Queen themselves at the mention of their daughter's distress. I had spoken to them for a short time and had gained a lot of information on Estelle in such a quick conversation.

Her Mother had insisted it was just her anxiety flaring up at the proposal of marriage, the new information startling her into such a state and to wait it out. Her Father seemed more kind-hearted towards his daughter's mental state, expressing some confusion when I explained the situation, since apparently, she hadn't voiced any objections to the arrangement, and ultimately telling me about how fragile 'his little Star' was, and how she was so much of a people pleaser it manifested into crippling anxiety.

It was quite the eye-opener.

But it warmed my heart when he asked to speak with her, to let her know he was concerned about her.

I switched on the light, blinding myself momentarily, before leaving the Princess' room.