Claire Will bring in the tea. And I will drink the tea with a fake smile to my father's guests. All of whom are men to be my possible betrothals. Men who are probably beyond thirty. Its not as if Father even has young friends. It's the same thing all the time.
Claire, my governess will bring the tea while my father would say "Isnt my Daughter the most beautiful girl you've ever gandered?" And I would pretend to be embarassed and then the man would say, "Oh yes. There isnt another like her. The man to her husband is a blessed man." And I will once again smile feeling hatred and disdain in my heart.
My Name is Kahnna Ameria Jennette Renoir. I am an heiress to the richest family in the whole world. The Renoirs are the most feared, respected, hated, and adored people to walk this earth. I was unfortunate enough to be stuck in it. I'm soon to be eighteen and that means I have to find a suitible husband soon.
This is the part when I finish my tea and asked to be excused. When permitted I go to my bedroom's terrace and sit and watch the sun go down. This time of day is the most beautiful yet the most depressing. The sun sets beautifully to mock me. It just means it will rise again to remind me that I'm stuck in this place.
The night sky is a heavy dark blanket overhead.
I sit in my bed sewing a patch onto my plush rabbit. I've had this rag since i was a baby. It is the only childlike thing I was allowed to keep. My father is very strict about my being practicle.
Claire walks in to tell me it's time for dinner. I will nod and fix my dinner gown. It is a red dress with black lace. In my hair I will wear a black ribbon. Father prefers me in darker shades.
I eat in silence. At least I always make an attempt to. I'm not one for subtle converstaion, especially with my family. My father sits at the head of the table, beside him on the right is my Step mother Antionette, and on his left is my brother Louis. I sit at the farest end. My Father grunts to clear his throat and then will say, "Kahnna, what did you think of my guest today? Is he suitable?" I dab my mouth with my napkin. "Of course father. All of your choices are impeccable. you know me so well." I say.
Dinner would then be silent the rest of the time.
I never fall asleep right away. There are different reasons every night. Tonight, the lace on my canopy is just far too ivory. The silk pink bows are hanging too low. The canaries in my cage breathe too heavy. Because of these distractions I decide to do other things. Tonight, perhaps I will play violin.
I grab the instrument by the neck and place it inbetween my shoulder and cheek bone. Gently, I caress its strings with the bow and begin to play. My fingers slide gingerly about the neck and I twinged it a bit for vibrato. I solemnly played my sad melody...the melody of Kahnna....me.
After awhile I do begin to grow tired.
Yes I do grow quite fatigued. So I lay my head upon my down pillow and close my eyes. But I do not sleep just yet. My eyes open a bit and I stare at my fingers. Its no longer even needed to think of this act. To me, this act is like eating...or breathing. It had become a natural part of my life...my nocturnal routine.
My fingers dance about in silky folds covered by satin. It is a waltz that it is. A common waltz. At first the steps are careful, light, and airy. I lift my sheets to watch this dance at its best. Hoping that watching it might get me what I've been looking to achieve in these past few minutes. Soon the light waltz becomes more intense. Escaping the 1,2,3 pattern, it becomes a 1,2 pattern. It's becoming intense.
Past the dance floor I see my toes. They're all curled and clenched together. And they get tighter and tighter that they do. Soon the dance is done. My fingers escape the dampend ballroom floor. Now My eyes are heavier. I close them.
I'll repeat the method tomorrow.
