When the bluebirds sing

Part 1

I walked down the stairs. I could feel the eyes following me. I smirked snobbery. I could see My parents waiting at the bottom eyeing my gorgeous robe. I tilted my head to acknowledge their presence. The lights were bright and there was no room for hiding. As I walked down the staircase my long dress trailing out behind me, I lifted my head high and walked out like I owned the place. I did. Well, technically daddy owns it. But I am the heiress to my daddy's fortune. He told me he hates my mother. 

"That dragged woman." He refers to her as. I agree. She is quite frightful. I cast an eye over my mother who was standing next to my father. She was quite frail and had a terrible complexion. I had told her many a time that she needs some foundation. She really is quite stubborn. As I arrived at the bottom of the stairs my father seized my arm. 

"This way my darling."

 He led me through crowds of people who jealously eye my beautifully structured cheekbones and full lips. I smiled at them, knowing they will never be as good as me. My father pulled me further through the beautifully decorated ballroom, where the chandeliers hung high on the roof painted with images of Jesus. I held my dress down with one hand while I greeted people with a one-handed wave with the other. We finally made our way across the room to where a gentleman was standing. He wore a bow tie and a blue suit. And he was handsome. Very handsome. I might just have to take him upstairs... My father broke into my thoughts with his booming voice. 

"This young man is Jakeob." 

Jakeob took my hand and kissed it. Hmmm. I liked this one. I took a long sip of my drink.

 "He will be taking your hand in marriage tomorrow." 

I spat my drink all over a passing waiter. He looked at me in horror, but my father shot him a warning glance. You don't cross my father. 

"Marriage?" I questioned my father whipping around. 

He looked at me guiltily. 

"Yes, darling, marriage."

 I gestured towards 'Jakeob.' 

"I will not marry THIS! OR ANYONE!" I spat. 

"Watch your tone young lady." Warned my father.

 I took no notice of this. I stared at him in disgust and hatred. How dare he? I did not need a husband to run my father's business well. Nor did I need anyone. I glowered at both and marched away. I could feel people's eyes burning into my back, but I didn't t care. I raced up the stairs that I had once walked down so elegantly with the world at my feet. 

I caught my mother's eye but quickly looked away. I could see my brother shaking his head solemnly. He was such a prick. I tore down the hallways where chandeliers hung and paintings adorned the rock walls. I slammed my bedroom door. I looked around and found that I had no idea what I was doing. I sat in my chair by the desk and took out a blank sheet and a feather from the inkwell. 

"Dear Amelie," I wrote. "My dearest Amelia, I have been forced into marriage by my dreadful father. I suspect everyone knew about this but me. I know that we had planned to take over my father's empire, but we cannot anymore. Not if it means marrying the brute daddy set up for me. Instead, we will find refuge far away from here. I have a plan. Meet me outside the old chapel in the early morning when the bluebirds sing. I will manage to sneak away before the wedding starts and meet you there. We could run away and start a business of our own. Maybe a bakery of some sort so you could put your scrumptious cooking skills to use? My love and heart, Lila."

 My face softened. This would fix things. They had to. I and Amelia would run as far as we needed to live in harmony.

 I sealed the letter in an envelope. And waited on my balcony for the mailman. He came into view. 

"Mailman." I hissed. 

He looked up. His eyes glowered and he scowled at me. Usually, I'm the best at scowling but the mailman was a close second. 

"My name is NOT mailman." He hissed back. 

"It's Dave."

 I rolled my eyes. I wanted to mock him for his average name, but I needed something from him. 

"Deliver this to Amelia."

 I threw the letter over the balcony, and it flittered down to the mailman's feet. He made no attempt to pick it up. I sighed. I threw down a 50-dollar bill. He grabbed it eagerly. Eyeing me with hatred he picked up the letter and headed off. Victorious I returned to the sanctuary of my room. I locked the door turned off the light and curled up in my silk sheets.