And so a pattern develops: wake, work cry. sleep. I can't even escape him in my dreams. Gray burning eyes, his lost look, his hair burnished and bright and bright all haunt me. And the music... so much music-I cannot bear to hear any music. I am careful to avoid it at all costs. Even the jingles in commercials make me shudder.
I wish I wasn't an imperial highness or an ex-grand duchess. I'm sick of people doing things to me because of what I am. Girl-in-white-dress. Short-one-with-fringe. Daughter-of-the-tsar. Child-of-the-ex-tyrant. I want people to look and see me, Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, not the caboose on a train of grand duchesses. Someday, I promise myself, no one will be able to hear my name or look at my picture and suppose they know all about me. Someday I will do something bigger than what I am.
Mother knocked once on my door and walked in my room to see me on my bed with the book tight in my grasp. She looked at my night dress and smiled. Expecting company? She asked. I flushed. It was a gift from Aunt Rose. It is only fair that I wear it considering I do not see her that often anymore. My voice was firm as I looked down at my night dress. The fabric was silky, and the color was minty-green. It made my skin tone much more noticeable and it made my hair stand out from the rest of me. Are you sure you are not expecting Alexander? She asked me sitting at the edge of my bed with a smile not only on her face, but in her eyes. Why do you insist I dress for him? I returned. I did not insist that, Mother answered softly. I was simply curious as to why you were wearing it. Plus, Mother flashed me a bright smile. I saw Alexander walking around the corridor a few minutes ago. My heart raced. Mother could see my reaction to that and looked back at my night dress. It is a very pretty dress; I just wish you were to get it in a year or two from now. It seems so. Grown up? I offered. I suppose it does, yes, Mother agreed quietly. She ran her hand on the lace that covered the bottom rim of the dress and said, However the word I was going to say wassuggestive.