the runaway bride by The woman with the pen

|TEN YEARS AGO|

I'd always been the odd one out of my family. And no, I wasn't talking about how I was the only person who loved to stay in the gardens although father had specifically warned me against it.

I meant how I looked different from my mother and sister, while they boasted of blonde hair and bright blue eyes with model like faces and body structure, I on the other hand, inherited frizzy chestnut colored hair and unnatural grey eyes. Father had always said that they reminded him of the sky when it was overcast but mother had directly told me that it was an ugly and murky color.

Either ways, I looked nothing like my mother and sister. Luckily, people always said that I had a great deal of resemblance to my father, that was the only assurance I had that I was not adopted or picked off from the streets.

"Come here, pompom," I cooed gently at the feline that had wrapped itself around the branch of the large tree in front of me.

Lately, the thought began to niggle at me. What if I was adopted? What if I was an illegitimate child? After all, I'd heard the whispers of the maids and other workers in the manor. They always looked at me the same, with pity.

"Oh, mama! I think this is beautiful!"

I recognized the voice instantly, turning my attention away from the stubborn cat and towards the walkway that led to the manor. I spotted mother and my sister, raising my hand to wave at them when I noticed the array of bags the maids carried as they trailed behind them.

The smile on my face fell slowly and my hands dropped to my side. I watched as my mother cooed and clapped at my sister. I watched as my sister twirled around, the sheer pink ball gown, that was undoubtedly new, she donned shimmering under the soft glow of the sunlight.

"You look gorgeous, my love!" Mother cheered in an ecstatic voice, her eyes filled with adoration for my younger sister, "Absolutely gorgeous!"

I remembered distinctly when I asked mother for a new set of clothes since I'd outgrown the ones I had and I could recall her response,

'If we bought clothes simply because we got too fat for our previous ones then we wouldn't have a roof over our heads, would we?'

Of course, like the good girl that I was, I nodded in agreement but now, watching them as they twirled and rejoiced over their new outfits I couldn't help the pain I felt in my heart.

My eyes slowly fell to the crème colored gown I wore, it was way past my knee, rumpled after having seen too many days and was too tight at the bodice, however it was the only decent wear I had. It was given to me by one of the maids when she saw how small my other clothes appeared on my body.

'You're a growing child,' She muttered with tears in her eyes and bitter frustration in her tone as she searched through her bags for a outfit, 'Of course, you need new clothes. What's Mr. Cruz doing anyways?'

Although she muttered the last part to herself, I caught it but pretended not to hear. I'd stopped wondering why my father never paid me much attention, maybe like mother he couldn't stand the sight of me.

I swallowed the lump that had somehow gotten stuck in my throat, lifting my gaze towards the sky to prevent the tears from falling.