family meal

I ascend up the stairs to my bedroom and as I rise I become extremely aware of the aching pain in my legs. Each step I take hurts a fraction more than the last and by the time I reach the summit, my legs are burning. The rusted metal of my engraved doorknob scratches my hands as I twist it, entering.

My room is chilly and the frost bites at my nose. I left my window slightly ajar all day and that is the culprit of the arctic temperature. I change stiffly into my nightgown desperately attempting to hoard my body heat. I slip it on my freezing body and slide into the comfort of my patchwork quilt.

My father has attempted many a time to rid of it but I will not allow it. My mother sewed it for me when she was able and of course my father wants nothing around the house to represent her. Thinking of my dear mother I slip into a deep slumber.

A ray of light protrudes from an interstice in my curtains and I stroll over to them. I reach out my hands, stretching my well-rested body and pull the material to each side allowing sunlight to flood the entirety of my room.

My bare feet are raw from the biting cold of the stone floor beneath them. I glance in the enormous mirror that hangs on my wall and analyse my reflection. My hair is unkempt and tangled from sleep and my skin is smooth and pale. My brown eyes glisten like burned honey in the light. My nightgown is creased and crumpled and only a few sparse spots remain clean and crisp.

I slip on some house shoes and return downstairs, dreading the day. Luna is serving breakfast and it pains me to see her like that. Bags are prominent beneath her usually bright eyes from lack of sleep and she appears weak.

I reluctantly take a seat at our ridiculously large table and place my napkin carefully a top my lap to prevent spills on my already mangled nightgown. "You are looking well Elizabeth" my father jests. My wicked step mother sniggers slyly at his rude comment as does her spoiled brat of a child. My father slams his fork down upon the table and looks me in the eye "where are your manners Elizabeth!?" "Thank you father" I say hesitantly. "That is more like it" he says and delves greedily into his morning meal.

My step monster turns to my father "I should hope she does not act like this before the worthy suitors". My fists clench around my silver cutlery and I start shaking with anger. I reach out my hand for a drink to cool my burning temper but before I even touch it the goblet spills over and leaks water onto the table. "For goodness sakes Elizabeth, watch yourself! No man wants a klutz for a wife" Victoria whines at me. She snaps her fingers at Luna, signalling for her to clean the mess.

I send her an apologetic smile before replying "maybe I do not want them either!" "Elizabeth, do not talk to your mother like that!" My father yells. "She's not my mother, nor will she ever be!" I shout back and get up from the table, heading outside. Before I reach the door I turn back and Victoria is crying into my fathers shoulder whilst he comforts her.

I quickly burst through the doors and make acquaintance with the fresh morning air. It always succeeds to calm me and I take deep breaths soothing my searing hot rage.