Chapter 72: Chapter XXXIV Day Three of Scandals-1

Sarina was not having a great day so far. She had overslept and was late to warmup and had to do double the stretches as punishment. She did not enjoy them. Although she could do them just as well as others, contorting her body, unlike others the pain doesn't go away. Some people stop feeling the pain when their muscles get used to and adapt towards it; not Sarina's. No matter if she can split and be carried around with two people only lifting her by her feet, her oversplit hanging at dangerous levels, it still hurt. Molly was one of those people who it wasn't sore for, and Sarina envied that facture. Molly had been an interrogator ever since Sarina got back from Paris, asking for each and every detail. Molly called herself their ultimate 'shipper' and Sarina began to wonder about her friend's mental state. Then again, when has she not been concerned for the girl? Sarina began wearing her black makeup again and enjoyed the feeling of being a bit closer to her old self. She tied her hair back, not wanting to see the relaxing colours her girlfriend loved but she secretly despised. She wasn't that type of person, yearning for her pitch black hair which she could joke about and call it the colour of her soul. But if it made Melanie feel better, then she would not complain. "Sarina!" Molly called, running over to where Sarina was warming up her back by doing bridges. "Check out this crazy livestream! Did you know about this?" Sarina frowned in question and untangled herself, taking the phone and popping an earbud in to listen. Molly took the other one and scrolled back in the livestream to where it began the topic. "Late last night, His Royal Majesty, King Vincent has issued out the nationwide manhunt for someone we have been promised to be introduced to at the coronation of Her Royal Highness, Princess Melanie. The man in question in this hunt is none other than one of the Kingdom's princes, His Royal Highness, Prince Cornelius. And yes folks, you heard me right. I did say princes in its plural form as Prince Cornelius is the second heir to the throne, but the third heir is his own twin brother, His Royal Highness, Prince Bartholomew. We were informed that Prince Cornelius is currently missing but we were not told the circumstances leading to his disappearance. We do have a picture," the presenter signalled, and a portrait of Cornelius appeared on the screen. In the picture his hair was sleeked back and he wore an elegant suit with the royal crest pinned on. "If anyone comes in to contact with Prince Cornelius then the King has issued clearance and a reward to anyone who can return him back to the palace, safely. Any police and military force may be contacted for further details should you come into contact with him," by now Sarina carried wide eyes, her jaw slacked. She knew some freaky things have been happening around the palace the last few days, but did not expect anything like this. Why did Melanie not tell her of this? Her brother was missing! "Sarina?" she looked towards Molly, still shocked. "Did you know any of this?" hesitantly, I shook my head. "Not a single word," she felt disappointed. "Well, her brother is missing and the entire nation is on a manhunt. Surely she is super worried and helping in the search, and I'm guessing she even knows why the Prince went missing. She must be going through a really rough time," Sarina only nodded at Molly's words, not able to think clearly. Cornelius? Missing? What could possibly have happened to the poor boy? "Do you think he was kidnapped?" that thought hadn't even run through Sarina's mind, but now she was considering every possibility. The worst came to mind and worry began to seep into her very being. Where was Cornelius? ♕♥ ♕♥ ♕ Bartholomew had another fight with Father, but this time about Cornelius's disappearance. Father seemed to have temporarily put aside all of our differences in order to find the only heir he truly accepted at this point, but that lead to bigger fights. Bartholomew was in a state of desperation, blaming the King every time they turned up at a dead-end. He knew that he was being irrational, but his emotionally weak state made him do some regrettable things. My mother began to understand why he would do something such as vandalise the jet after seeing how he began to react when he mentally unstable. And then she felt bad. I don't know how I felt about everything, truly. I pushed away my feelings in order to gain concertation but now I have become indifferent towards their further fights. This was no time to get out of hand. The Duchess Hannah, my father's sister, had taken my father off to one side and punched him through the jaw where one large protruding bump was on display for everyone to see. She expressed her proudness in hitting it at such an angle that his chin did jaw did not dislocate. After that, the King no longer had any objections to new plans and began to grow dangerously silent. I truly feared my aunt and her right hook. "We shall set the border patrol to work. It has almost been thirty-six hours since the child has disappeared," I overheard the Mother Queen speak to my mother and Princess Alice, my back pressed against the wall next to the doors. "Mother, I cannot keep going like this," my mother admitted and it was then that I realised how terrible this must be for her. This was her own flesh and blood, suddenly gone and who knows in what kind of trouble. "Do not fear, my child. We will find your son," my grandmother comforted. "But what if he never returns? I cannot lose him!" it was then that I decided to leave, not wanting to hear the conversation any further. This entire thing was my fault. If I had not stepped in to speak to my father, then maybe the argument would have been resorted between Father and Bartholomew. Except, then there was the other fact: my father had admitted to considering sending Bartholomew off to an institute, his reasoning being that at such an intense disobedience from his own son must not be the doing of someone in their right mind. If not for Cornelius's disappearance, then Bartholomew would not be with us right now. That still leaves the question: did my father's last statement in the argument three days ago mean that he disowned us? Were we just refugees, clinging onto our mother for dear life? My heart could not handle this stress.