Alexandra

I looked outside of my bedroom window. The garden was spotless and immaculate as always. Workers buzzed around it like bees around their hive. The garden was my mothers pride and joy. The white rose bushes and the purple hydrangea form a long hedge around it. It was mesmerizing to look at. I was lost deep in thought as I absent mindedly looked out. I often wondered how I got here and mostly thought of what the future holds for me. There is nothing worse than not having some control of my life and being led like a child. At 21 years old, its is now getting beyond frustrating. I think back frequently on what happened in my life these past few weeks as if I could find the missing puzzle piece from the past and right my present or my future. But it was futile.

My mother married young to my father.  she claimed it was a loveless marriage, forced by her father for the name, connections and title she would inherit. She gave birth to me and unfortunately for me I was the spitting image of my father. Jet black hair and hazel eyes unlike my mother's blond hair and striking blue eyes. He was very fond of me. Took me everywhere he goes, I was my father's pride and joy and my mothers envy.  She despises me to say the least. Especially once she found out about my father's financial downfall. My father inherited nothing but  debt from his father, a former viscount. Their lavish lifestyle was the cause for their crisis. My father, struggling to repay his fathers debt was faced with threats from debt collectors and former family friends. He was in an immense strain trying to repay his fathers debt and at the same time supporting his new wife's extravagant lifestyle. Her lavish parties,exorbitant gowns and countless servants were adding to the pressure. At the end his heart gave out and he died when I turned two. My scheming mother, once she found out that she had no wealth to her name but debt, she went looking for a rich husband preferably one  with a title attached to his name. She kept up the pretense that she is the former  viscount's wife, a grieving sad widow with striking beauty. She secured Richard in no time. And before you could say Jack Robinson, she was in a white gown looking angelic as ever holding on to Richard like a new bride. She so desperately wants to keep up the appearance of a new virginal bride but to her dismay I was there, dark haired little three year old girl sulking in the corner on my nanny's lap. She wanted to start fresh with Richard and forget her first husband and her former life, alas, I was the constant reminder of her awful past that she wants to erase. Soon she gave birth to my half sister Emma. Emma has her mother's eyes and hair. Although her round small face and dimpled chin resembles her fathers. She's both of them combined in looks and treachery. Spoiled and egotist!

I sighed and turned from the window to look at my bedroom. The lilac wall papers, once perhaps elegant and bright are now moldy in the corners and peeling off. My bedding were the once I have,ever since I remember. I didn't know their original color, but they are now washed out brown and faded from years of use and wash. My tattered clothes are tucked away in the cupboard. I have but one decent gown that I own. It was given to me by my mother on my seventeenth birthday, not as a heartfelt gift but to ward of my fathers distant relatives who were seeking to see me. That morning I remember her barging into my bedroom and throwing it on my face startling me.

"Wear this and come down at the study."she ordered and walked to the door. Turning back she added," do not utter one word, is that clear?" She demanded, with that she left. The gown was warm brown with golden frills and detailed embroideries. It was the most beautiful thing I ever owned. I wore the gown with much effort and glanced at my reflection. The color brought out my hazel eyes and pale skin. Soon I  presented my self at the study only to find two pale skinned, dark long haired middle aged women sitting by the hearth. They stood up and studied me with tearful eyes. My mother cleared her throat and announced.

"As you can see, Alexandra is a young woman now, living comfortably with her family." She stated coldly giving me a warning look. They told me they were my father's first cousins. We sat around the hearth and they talked for several minutes. I listened, my curiosity nagging at my insides but I was afraid of my mother and resort to listening. They told me of my Celtic heritage and hence the pale skin and dark hair. And for the first time, I hear someone openly admire my beauty. They were so generous with their praise of my high cheekbones, wide hazel eyes, strong jawlines and freckles. I smiled and looked down feeling warm and shy. They wanted to visit again, they wanted to stay and converse more but my mother's constant throat clearing and cold manner drove them off. I've never heard from them again. But every so often I thought about running away and finding them. I didn't mind if they were poor. All I wanted was to feel the warmth and the feeling of belongingness.

Later that night I wore the gown to our family dinner. The dining room was brightly lit and servants come and go through the kitchen doors serving mouth watering dishes. My stomach grumbling, I sat at the far side of the table next to Alice my youngest half sister. She was a chubby child with rosy cheeks and golden curls. She reminded me of cherubs. I looked up startled to see Emma snickering. She told me that the drabby gown that i wore was made for her by an incompetent seamstress. she hated the color and all the dingy details and threw it away. She added that they  have found a new rubbish bin. Indicating towards me. I was usually quiet and timid towards her open insults but that day something in me flared up and I walked right behind her seat and dunked her face in the duck soup in front of her. Richard's mouth gaped in disbelief and my mother seeing that I, her shameful daughter, is bringing more shame to the family, as she had phrased it, was sent to my room and was forbidden to dine with the family from that time on. My mother nor Richard have never raised their hand to strike me but pretending that I did not exist is how they punish me.

I found my self laying on my bed in the present but my mind elsewhere recalling the past. I took a long deep breath and stood up dabbing my wrinkled dress. I feel a sadness gripping my throat as look at my reflection. "What is to become of me? " is the constant nagging question  that is causing me panic. Today is my twenty first birthday and I have never felt sadder.