Unfading Beauty (1 Peter 3:4)

Chapter One

"Rebekah! Rebekah!" My mother yelled up the tower stairwell. "Rebekaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! It's time for breakfast!"

I sighed in my washroom, putting my hair brush down. Here we go, I thought as I looked in the mirror. The cuts in my skin and patches of missing flesh was like a mask upon my face that I can't remove. It has been there since birth. I look down at my hands and arms, coated in the same skin.

I pulled my long back into a pony tail andit exposed my red neck. Oh, life with extream eczema all over my body was termoil. As I left my washroom and headed down the stone steps, pain surged through my body with every step. But I have become accustomed to the hurt. I noticed blood started to poor slowly from a slit on my knee, so I went back and wrapped it up in an ace bandage.

I decended the stairs again, and when I came to the bottom of my tower, I began to stroll down the marble corridor decorated with ancient paintings of my ancestors. Each of them, both men and women, that were once came to this castle on vacation from their Kingdom in Europe had fair, blemishless faces and skin. Did I? Not even close. My deasise was unheared of in my family, not a single person once had it. No one knows where the gene came from. Some of the servents of the castle believe my mother had an affair. But I think that's impossible.

"REBEKAH!" my mother hollard from behind the dark, wooden doors before me as I pushed them open. 

"I'm right here, mother."

My mother spun around, her brown hair like mine moving with her. Yet that's were the similar characteristics ended. But if you looked down the hall, you could see where I get my eyes, shape, and everything but my skin from, or atleast I think so, it's hard to really see my face under all the eczema. But next to my parents, you can tell I look completely different, especially in personality as well.

"Oh," My mother said. "Well, what took you so long, are you hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere, dear? Oh! Your knee! How bad is it? Do you need any medication, honey?" And there she went, on and on, faster and faster.

"I'm fine, mother." I said and stepped into the dinning hall. My mother worries too much, hence the reason I've never left this caslte, for she is scared that the world will be too much for me, that I'll get hurt, and the press and scientist and the government and everyone else will never leave me alone... I have to admit my mother is a tad crazy... it's not like I have a pig's snout for a nose!

I came and sat down at the dark, oak table. My father sat across from me, with his feet on the table reading a Joyce Meyer book. I smiled at him as he peeked over to me. He smiled back then returned to his book. Unlike my mom, he was a man of few words. He's a real relief.

"Alright, dear. It's just that you worry me so much! you ought to be more careful." She said, her back straight and proper, as a lady should be. Delicate. Sensitive. Graceful. Everything I am not. Well, some say that I am delicate and fragile because of my eczema. I don't think I am at all. If anything, I'm stronger for being able to live and handle this curse. I don't think many could.

"Mother, I can't help it. I move, I bleed." I reminded her for the millionth time. "It's alright mother, it is no dilemma." I put my elbows on the table then placed my chin in my palms. My mother glared at me, waiting for me to sit up straight. I erected my posture, sighing and pulling my chair. My mother turned to my father, who sat across the table from me. He had his feet prompt on the table, book in his lap while he ate a croissant. He look to my mother and smile, and she crinkled her nose in disgust.

"Now dearest, you know what I think about I think about you edict. You seriously need to consider that you are a descendant of kings! Therefore, you should at least attempt to act like one . Take your feet off the table!" She smacked his sneakers and he placed them down underneath the table. "Sit up straight!" He obeyed her. Then, as my mother walked about the room, whenever her back was to us, my father mocked her with funny faces and lip-sinking her monologue. I bit my lip to keep myself from giggling.

My mother went on and on, nagging to no end about how we should be acting like our ancestors did, even if no one was looking. And my hilarious father shook his finger at me, put his hand on his hips, and went on and on, sending me into a silent hysteria. I was close to falling off my chair when my mother turned back around and her eyes fell on us. My father and I's instantly straightened our backs and all laughter fled from the expressions on our faces. My mother squinted at me, and I bit my tongue so keep myself silent.

A long and awkward silence was broken by our chief and kitchen crew bringing out the main course of our breakfast. As i ate my amazing waffles, I thought about how life in the stone walls of my castle can be fun, but I soon remembered how it can also be very,very lonely.