Work in Progress from my Google Drive

Sunshine

You are my sunshine… my only sunshine
You make me happy, when skies are grey
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you
So please don’t take my sunshine away

Those were the only words Azalea could think of as she lay in a damp dirty cell, waiting for someone to show up. So she sang them even as her vision went from slightly blurry to hazy, and the harsh whispers of her voice reminded her of her parched throat. She knew there would be no rescue team, no sidekicks or side characters rushing to help her. There was no point anymore. There was nothing left. No truth to the lie she had been told all her life. She was just as bad as her captors, and so clung to the only thing she knew was safe. A knock sounded by the door of Azalea’s cell, and she used the last of her strength to raise her head. What she saw was odd, something she’d never seen before. A guard looked at Azalea with a strange expression on their face. Was it worry, maybe even concern or, heaven forbid, pity? She heard the door creak open and the rush of footsteps before her vision went black.

When she was younger, all she had was her wits. And two buttons. Normal little buttons, like one would get off a jacket or a plaid shirt. One was about the size of a quarter, and just as thick, but it was green. The other was roughly the size of a nickel, not quite as thick, and grey. These buttons are important. Please remember them.
These two buttons were all she had of her parents. The green one she referred to as “Papa” because it came from his coat, and the grey one she referred to as “Mama” because it had come from her sewing basket. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, this girl’s name is Azalea. What’s her last name you say? Ah, well… she doesn’t have one.
The other girl in this story is named Phoenix. I guess I should mention that she’s rather privileged, in that she has her parents and gets her way a lot of the time while Azalea does not. You may be yawning and rolling your eyes, and yes I understand. Basically what I’m trying to say is that Phoenix and Azalea are adopted sisters. Happy now?
Phoenix didn’t particularly enjoy Azalea’s company when they were younger, generally because she was quiet. Too quiet, and too observant.

“Phoebe, what are you doing?” Azalea would ask, using the nickname as a term of endearment for her older sister. (Older by two months, ten days, and seventeen minutes in fact.) But the fact that Azalea had a sibling at all was a miracle in itself. But let me get back to the story.
“Nothing, Zale, now go away.” she’d say, turning around and hiding her hands behind her back. Azalea would tilt her head, holding onto her precious buttons in her tiny little fists and push out her bottom lip in a pout. I guess I should say that the two girls were in the snack pantry in the kitchen. And I should also point out that every weekend the girls’ mother would bake cookies and store the extras in a cookie jar on the second shelf from the top of the floor cupboard next to the door.
Azalea just pouted some more. “But I wanna oatsmeaw cookie too…” she’d mumble with tears in her eyes. Then Phoenix would quickly hush her down from beginning to cry, (don’t want Mother to catch them stealing the cookies!) and begrudgingly break the stolen cookie in half once they’d snuck back out and gone to their shared room.

As they got older they didn’t grow much closer, but didn’t grow farther apart either. Azalea was as close as Phoenix would let her get to her. But our story officially starts when the two girls are about fifteen. Azalea was laying on the grass in the backyard of her family’s mansion. Or rather, as Phoenix had been sure to make it clear, her family’s mansion, and Azalea was just a friend who lived with them. But anyway… She sighed, and opened her eyes to look up at the sky. Her eyes were green, not like an emerald is green or a blade of grass is green, but a nice kind of green that has tints of blue in it, like the ocean.