Once upon a time, there was a princess.  The princess lived in her castle with her mother and father, her queen and her king.  The princess didn’t share a room with anyone; she had her own canopy bed with pink shear draping and a soft white comforter.  The princess had a little furry teddy bear that she loved to cuddle and stroke at night.  It slept next to her, tucked into the blanket with a tiny pillow behind its neck.  When she woke, she would smell the mouth-watering scent of pancakes and eggs.  The princess would walk into the kitchen and be greeted by her mother.  The princess was the queen’s favorite little girl, her only daughter.  The princess would receive a hug from the mother, the mother’s hand caressing her princess’s back.  The king would come in, boisterous and happy, and tell the princess a joke.  She would laugh, smiling until it hurt.  The king would tell her to hush, not to laugh so loudly for it would wake her sleeping little brother.  Then, the king would tell the princess, “I love you,” and the princess would say it back, happily and willingly.

“I love you.”

Once upon a time, there was a girl.  The girl lived underground, in some basement with two ugly men, her dungeon masters.  The girl shared a room with three other girls; she slept on a small mattress that squeaked and whined when she tossed and turned.  Her blanket was threadbare and rough.  The girl had nothing to comfort her, she only had an ugly man, cuddling and stroking her at night.  He slept next to her, tucked into the blanket with his arm around her shoulders.  When she woke, she would smell the awful scent of sex and tears.  The girl would walk around the dungeon, the only sound to greet her was the sound of her own sobs.  Then the men would return and select a playmate.  The girl was the blond man’s favorite little girl, his shining conquest.  The girl would receive much more than a hug from the man, one hand pressing into her mouth and the other into her back.  Sometimes the man would invite a friend, and he would come in, loud and excited, and tell the girl not to be scared.  She would cry, sobbing until it hurt.  The men would tell her to hush, not to cry so loudly because it ruined their experience.  Then, the men told her, “I love you,” and the girl would say it back, the words making her sick as the men slowly began their torment. 

“I love you.”