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Hi, it's me, Princess Jenny.
I wonder if this tape will ever reach my father, King Arthur. I doubt it. They want me to think not, so that I won't be in a state of panic and run away. I've been here for about 2 days, kept in isolation and completely unclothed, and fed only a few times a day, sometimes with sustenance, sometimes with disgusting gusts. I'd be dead if they hadn't been feeding me at all when they brought me here. But I'm afraid they fed me with the wrong substance. To say they did this on purpose is to be generous. They knew what they did was wrong all along, but they still did it.
But I guess that's not all. They have plans for me, but only ever as an illustration, a drugged and captured animal for their science. I don't know what they'd do with me, other than maybe just kill me. Maybe, I wouldn't be so terrified. Maybe, I'd had enough. Maybe.
I'm writing this using a pencil. They give me a pencil and a long roll of paper. They want me to write a full account of all that's happened to me in a straight-forward fashion and then make sure to deposit it into the Admiral's personal safe. I have no idea why they want me to do that, but I do as I'm told because that's the only way I'll get out of here, otherwise. But that's not the thing that's been preoccupying me.
In the last two days, I've thought a lot about what they want me to write. About why they want me to write it. They probably believe it will help them to capture me, now that they have me in their grasp. That doesn't surprise me. I've already seen what they can do to the strongest ones. I only hope they let me out before they take the rest of their captives to that planet, because I'd rather not have too big of a chance of dying.
In the last two days, I've also thought a lot about my father. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I think about how much I love him, how much I need him now, even as I'm kept in a tiny room. Sometimes I feel like my life is a failure. Sometimes I feel like I failed him. He didn't give me life for that. He's been so busy and so really consumed with getting power and maintaining it. He's probably forced to be like this because this is how things work around here. Politics is hard, uncaring.
But my father is not an uncaring man. Sometimes I've wondered if he cared more about me and my brothers than even himself... but I don't know. I may not be right. I don't think I am, but I still can't begin to understand him, or any of my brothers.
But I've never been sure. Only one way will let me know for sure. One way to find out.
I'm reminded of that from the last time I was here, the last time I saw my father. He said, ''I'm going to go mad if I don't get out of this place.'' It sounded like he was serious. I didn't know. There was really no way to tell. But it seemed like he was making up for his lost time. He would find destiny, if he ever could.
That reminds me of the battles I heard them talking about. They all have been warring, attempting, and forced to conquer their way to one power, the greatest power they can attain. I don't know how my father can be innocent when he has to be like that now. I don't know what made him go from being just a Prince, to becoming a king. It must be politics, but that's not what I want to say now. What I mean is that I just don't know. And I don't think I want to. I'm afraid to.
I remember he used to come to me when I was a child and he used to always kiss my cheeks. I liked that. I never knew what I was thinking back then. And I never know what people were thinking or feeling, now. I just don't. I'm not sure I'll ever be sure. I don't remember when. It's been a really, really long time.
I hate this room. I don't want to go there. I don't want to be anywhere near that dirty, ugly place. Like so many here, I always enjoy cleaning. I always try to make my small place as clean as possible. I never understood how hard I had it, until now.
I'm writing this in my room, in my small room, my cell. I don't want to be in this room. I want be in my room. I want to be in my bed, sleeping in my bed. I want to wake up to the sound of rain, to the smell of freshness, to a warm breeze and a spring morning. I want to walk out of my door and get to work. I want to help people. I want to help heal them. I want to help myself if I can.
But it looks like that'll never happen. I've tried so hard to escape them, but something takes over me, something more powerful. It's like a spirit. It's a part of me. It's something that wants me to live, to live in whatever way I can. Even if it means this, it means I'd be a captive in here... I don't know.
I want to escape them. I'm going to escape them. I know I'm going to. I want to... confess everything to my father. I want to tell him everything I've learned here, but maybe it would be better to find out on my own, instead of going through my father. He might not even care anymore. He might not know what I'm talking about, maybe. But I still want to tell him... I'll just have to wait to find the right time.