Jade Featherstone had never been outside. She was pale, and her skin was lightly freckled. She was nothing like her sisters, Carlie, Jacen and Avery. Both had tan, bony faces. They had soft edges, and Jade’s jawline was strong. Once, Jade remembered she went outside as a child on their large farm, and her mother yelling at her to come inside when she saw uniformed men walking down the gravel path to the Farthing’s barn.
On Jade’s fourth birthday, she remembered when Mother baked a pound cake, and when it was cut open, blueberries tumbled out. That day, They had buttermilk, and Katjie, the cat spilled some. Jade was about to walk towards the window where the spill was, until her Uncle Garth grabbed her by the waist and literally threw her on the old propped up mattress that served as a fragile couch.
“Don’t you EVER go near the windows, again. Do you hear me Jade?” Uncle flared up. Then his composure returned, and he became gentle again. “Please, Jade this is for your own good.
Jade was now in closet, which was her room. Permanently, with the homely smell of rotting and moldy wood, the shredded linen of hand-me-downs stuffed in an extra large pillow case. Today was her 14th birthday. There would be no celebration. Only grievances that had to be redressed. Uncle Garth died the day of her 6th birthday, after a sight of Jade wass caught in the window.