Forsaken - 1

Chapter 3- Problems

Some wonder why I wanted to get out. For me, it was obvious, but not to the average reader.

My closely governed atmosphere had turned the mansion into nearly a prison, where I felt contained and separated from the rest of the world. Which I was.

But the maids- how cruel they were- and the guards- yes, guards- outside the prison, I mean mansion's thick walls, and Aunt Genoveve's overprotective nature: all of it together was making me want to get out. That hit me when I was about 7.

I remember sitting on my bed, reading a book, as one maid instructed, when my personal caregiver Rachelle told me sternly that I should be working on my studies! Several times that day even after that was I reprimanded for doing the wrong thing in someone's eyes which was the right thing in another's. If you knew how the mansion was or ever were unfortunate enough to live encased in it, you would know how controversial it could get. Politics, sports, or even things as small as which type of tea to put on the kettle. Which drove me even more to my limits. Finally I found a way that would succeed.

So as I speak about this time in past tense, you know I got out- if I hadn't, how would my story have been told? That is not the great reveal, but it is essential in the storyline of my own life.

I'd also seen a boy, about my age, walking around the mansion. Christine and I had unanimously agreed that he was gorgeous, and both swore on our dear lives that we would never reveal that opinion to anyone. These were the type of things that bonded us together and made us the type of friends were are. I'd only talked to the boy a few times, at formal dinners and such, and he seemed to take to liking me, but I could not stay around for a simple boy. He would surely find a wealthy wife in uptown Ireland and live happily. They would have cute children, definitely, because even if the mother was blatantly ugly, I was convinced nothing could ever disrupt his beauty being passed to another generation, if that makes sense coming out of my horribly spoken mouth.

Twenty years ago, about, when I was nearing the age of 15, my head was about to burst with all the plans, energy, excitement, and annoyance all bubbling up and getting mixed together in my mind.

It had been too long, I had decided, since I had seen a fresh, good, side of the world. It was time to get free. But how would I? There were the pesky maids who hated me. There was Aunt Genoveve, a rich and upright woman, who was too busy to worry about her young grand niece's future life- she only meant well. Then the guards. How would I ever get past their constant security? All these questions and more filled and flooded my small mind, but one thing alone fueled me on-

Christine.