~POV: Marisa~
When I was a small child, I used to go to my mother's chamber every night, where she would sit me down in her cushioned red velvet chair and brush my long black hair with her wooden brush. As she brushed, she would tell me stories, stories which always ended with, "And the beautiful young girl married the rich man (or prince, or lord, or king) and lived happily ever after." One night, I asked her, "But Mother, why didn't the girl marry the handsome stable boy? Why did she marry the prince?" Mother smiled at me, her smile sweet and patronizing. "Little Mari..you're so young..so very young. Too young to understand.."
I dreaded the words "You wouldn't understand" more than any others as a child. I still do, in fact....how can anyone know what a person can understand until they ask? When I was nine, after Father died, Mother finally explained to me why the girls in her stories always married the rich men. "Power is everything, my child," she would say to me. "A rich man can provide you with far more power than a poor man, and marriage is the only way that women can achieve power in this world, Marisa." This confused me quite a bit, so I did what I always did when something confused me: consulted my older sisters. I went first to my oldest sister, Marlena. When I asked her what Mother meant by her comment, Marlena rolled her eyes and said, "How the hell should I know, Mari? Mom's an idiot!" That was a typical Marlena answer to any question concerning Mother. At age fourteen, Marlena's rebellious teen stage was in full swing. According to Laney (my nickname for Marlena), anything that Mother said was rubbish that didn't even deserve acknowledgement. Obviously, she would be of no help in solving this mystery.
After talking to Laney, I consulted my next-to-oldest sister, Lorena. Lorena had always been something of a confidante to me. I told her every concern, fear, hope, wish, and thought that passed through my head. More than anything else in the world, I longed to be Lorena. At eleven years old, she was already by far the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen. With her curly chocolate-colored hair, ivory skin, and violet eyes, Lorena was Mother's prize child, her favorite. When I asked Lori what Mother meant, she smiled at me, her eyes filled with a wisdom beyond her eleven years. "Mama wants us to live like little princesses, Mari. She wants us to be able to have anything we want, and she thinks that a rich man can give us more than a poor man can." I nodded, trying to understand. At nine years old, money meant nothing to me. Of course, I knew that we weren't rich. Whenever I went over to my friend Andrew Mackensie's house to play, I saw things there that were far more lavish and ornate than anything that we had. Other than that, money didn't matter to me at all. It wasn't until I was in my mid-teens that I learned the truth in my mother's words, that I learned how much power and money really did matter.
When I was a small child, I used to go to my mother's chamber every night, where she would sit me down in her cushioned red velvet chair and brush my long black hair with her wooden brush. As she brushed, she would tell me stories, stories which always ended with, "And the beautiful young girl married the rich man (or prince, or lord, or king) and lived happily ever after." One night, I asked her, "But Mother, why didn't the girl marry the handsome stable boy? Why did she marry the prince?" Mother smiled at me, her smile sweet and patronizing. "Little Mari..you're so young..so very young. Too young to understand.."
I dreaded the words "You wouldn't understand" more than any others as a child. I still do, in fact....how can anyone know what a person can understand until they ask? When I was nine, after Father died, Mother finally explained to me why the girls in her stories always married the rich men. "Power is everything, my child," she would say to me. "A rich man can provide you with far more power than a poor man, and marriage is the only way that women can achieve power in this world, Marisa." This confused me quite a bit, so I did what I always did when something confused me: consulted my older sisters. I went first to my oldest sister, Marlena. When I asked her what Mother meant by her comment, Marlena rolled her eyes and said, "How the hell should I know, Mari? Mom's an idiot!" That was a typical Marlena answer to any question concerning Mother. At age fourteen, Marlena's rebellious teen stage was in full swing. According to Laney (my nickname for Marlena), anything that Mother said was rubbish that didn't even deserve acknowledgement. Obviously, she would be of no help in solving this mystery.
After talking to Laney, I consulted my next-to-oldest sister, Lorena. Lorena had always been something of a confidante to me. I told her every concern, fear, hope, wish, and thought that passed through my head. More than anything else in the world, I longed to be Lorena. At eleven years old, she was already by far the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen. With her curly chocolate-colored hair, ivory skin, and violet eyes, Lorena was Mother's prize child, her favorite. When I asked Lori what Mother meant, she smiled at me, her eyes filled with a wisdom beyond her eleven years. "Mama wants us to live like little princesses, Mari. She wants us to be able to have anything we want, and she thinks that a rich man can give us more than a poor man can." I nodded, trying to understand. At nine years old, money meant nothing to me. Of course, I knew that we weren't rich. Whenever I went over to my friend Andrew Mackensie's house to play, I saw things there that were far more lavish and ornate than anything that we had. Other than that, money didn't matter to me at all. It wasn't until I was in my mid-teens that I learned the truth in my mother's words, that I learned how much power and money really did matter.