The grandfather clock in the foyer of the Sterling estate didn't just tell time; it issued a warning, every heavy tick was a reminder to Jade that she was living on someone else's schedule.
"Jade, dear, your collar is crooked, humility starts with the way we present ourselves to the world." Jade felt her mother's cold, thin fingers reach out, adjusting the button of her starch-white blouse until it pressed uncomfortably against her throat.
They were standing in the hallway, preparing for the Sunday evening "Reflection Dinner." It was a weekly tradition where the family sat in silence for twenty minutes before eating, contemplating their "purity of spirit."
Jade looked at her reflection in the gilded mirror. At twenty-one, she was a woman in full bloom, though her parents did everything in their power to prune her back. She had high, sharp cheekbones and a pair of deep, soulful eyes that her father often described as "dangerous" if not kept cast downward. Her hair, a thick mane of chestnut waves, was pulled back so tightly into a bun that it gave her a permanent headache.
"Thank you, Mother," Jade whispered, keeping her voice low and monotone. In the Sterling house, passion was a sin, and excitement was a lapse in judgment.
She followed her mother into the dining room, where her father, Silas, already sat at the head of the long, oak table. The room smelled of lemon polish and old books scents that Jade had come to associate with boredom and restriction.
Silas didn't look up as they sat, he was a man of high standing in their community, a pillar of traditional values who believed that a daughter was a reflection of her father's discipline. He took great pride in Jade's "modesty." To him, she was a masterpiece of control.
"I heard from the Dean today," Silas said, his voice echoing in the vaulted room, "He says your grades are exemplary. You are a credit to this family, Jade, It is rare for a young woman in this modern, depraved age to stay so focused on her studies without the distractions of... worldly vanities."
Jade felt a familiar knot tighten in her stomach, by "worldly vanities," her father meant friends, parties, and men. She had never been on a date, she had never been to a cinema without a chaperone, even her internet access was routed through a family filter that blocked anything remotely "suggestive" which, in Silas's eyes, included Victorian poetry and perfume advertisements.
"I only wish to make you proud, Father," Jade lied, the words felt like ash in her mouth.
The dinner proceeded in a stifling, ritualistic silence, as Jade picked at her steamed vegetables, her mind drifted. She thought about the girls she saw on the university campus, girls who wore sundresses that showed their shoulders, girls who laughed loudly and held hands with boys under the oak trees. She watched the way their bodies moved, free and unburdened, and she felt a strange, terrifying ache in her chest.
She didn't know what the ache was, she had been taught that her body was a "vessel for the soul," nothing more. Any sensation that wasn't hunger or exhaustion was to be suppressed through prayer or hard work.
After dinner, Jade was dismissed to her room, It was a room designed for a child, not a woman; The walls were a pale, virginal blue, and the bed was narrow, covered in a quilt she had sewn herself, there were no mirrors other than a small one for grooming.
She sat on the edge of her bed, the silence of the house pressing in on her ear, through the thin walls, she could hear the muffled sound of her father's voice, reciting his nightly prayers.
She caught sight of herself in the small vanity mirror. On a whim, she reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, the chestnut waves tumbled down her shoulders, feeling heavy and warm against her skin. It felt like a rebellion, she let out a breath she felt she had been holding for twenty-one years.
She looked down at her hands; They were trembling, She had spent her entire life being "good," being "pure," being the daughter Silas Sterling wanted her to be.
But tomorrow, everything would change.
Tomorrow, she was leaving for her own apartment near the city university,
Her parents saw it as a necessary step for her doctorate; Jade saw it as a flight to freedom.
She walked to her window and looked out at the dark woods surrounding their estate. Somewhere out there, the world was loud, messy, and vibrating with life, she felt a heat rising in her neck, a curiosity that felt like a fever.
She didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew that the girl in the starch-white blouse was a lie.
She touched the glass of the window, her fingertips tracing the moon's reflection.
She turned off her lamp, the darkness swallowing the room. Tomorrow, the "perfect girl" would disappear, tomorrow, the wires of her restraint would finally begin to snap.