Sunshine (Harry Styles)

two

Quick Authors note here! okay,so from here on out, we will be in the past, unless I say 'present time', and then we will be in 1983 again. I will write this as if it's happening in present time, but remember that it is her memories as she tells Chloe and Mark the story.

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CHAPTER 2

1912

I wake up this morning to the sound of Mixie, the house cat, scrambling around the floor beside my bed. Damn it, she has found my yarn from my knitting basket. I'm not complaining, maybe mother won't make me knit any longer.

I try to shut the tabby cat's noises out

of my mind, and go back to sleep. When I'm just about to drift off again, I hear the oak door creak open. I lift my head off the pillow, seeing my mother gracefully walk into my bedroom, her back straight as a rod, her hands clasped tightly. I roll my eyes at her ridiculous stance.

"Sonny, get up. You know today is a big day," she says, her voice strong. She walks over to the mahogany canopy bed, and pulls the handmade quilt away from my body, leaving it in a heap at the foot of my bed, me laying there in my white nightgown.

"Why can't I spend this 'big day', sleeping?" I inquire, squinting up at my mothers aqua-blue eyes. Her bright blond hair cascades over her shoulders, in extremely tight and bouncy curls.

"Sonny," she says sternly. "Your 'coming of age' party is tonight. I hear Mr. Liam Payne will be attending. I suggest you hurry and get up, so we can begin preparing you for the event."

I internally groan. I almost forgot. On your sixteenth birthday, if you are wealthy, your family throws you a party. However, it's not a birthday party, where you invite your family and close friends, have birthday cake with frosting, play games, and have a nice time. It's a party in which you have to tighten your corset until you cannot breathe, put on an uncomfortable slip, and squeeze into an itchy evening gown, whose skirts drag the floor and nearly trip you as you walk. And the worst part is, you have to get ready, just to be able to put on the stupid get-up. You must bathe in rose water, trim your nails and hair, curl your hair pin-tight, and put on makeup.

The purpose of this party is not to celebrate another year of being alive, walking on this terrible place we have the decency to call Earth, but to introduce you to society. In other words, find a husband. Well, your parents find you one, and force you into marriage, anyway.

I've been dreading this day for years. Most girls would be going completely bonkers in excitement, anticipating the moment they will meet their groom-to-be. They would anticipate getting ready, bath, makeup, corset, dress, and all. Like my sisters, for instance.

My eldest sister, Marie, is married with children now. She's 22. She tells me that her coming of age party was splendid, and mine would be as well.

My other sister, Ella, who is 14, anticipates the day she will turn 16. It's all she ever talks about. 'The day she'll find her true love'. Is it really 'true love' when your parents practically force you into 'loving' the man?

However, I am not like my sisters, as you have probably already noticed. I am a complete opposite of them, not only mentally, but physically.

They both have the same hair and eyes as my mother: bright, shiny blond hair, and crystal clear, aqua-blue eyes. I, on the other hand, have jet black hair, and dark blue eyes, the color of the night sky.

The night sky is black, I'm sure you are thinking, but if you look closely enough, you will see that it is a dark, deep, blue. The color you will find by looking into my eyes.