Dead Before Midnight

Dead Before Midnight

A dark version of the Cinderella story. Warning, deals with darker intense topics.

published on November 23, 20174 reads 3 readers 0 not completed
Little Girl all Alone

Little Girl all Alone

My name wasn't always Cinderella. I used to be Ella Christine Larkin. I used to be a normal girl who did normal things. I was like any other girl. My father and mother loved me dearly and such things. Then one day my mother died. Everyone said that she passed away from a terrible illness. I know that this was untrue. I saw my mother hold the knife to her heart. I heard her say
" You're such a pretty girl." In her melodic way. I felt the blood pour down and stain the carpet. My mother killed herself because she hated it. She hated everything, her life, her child, her husband. My mother dreamt of becoming a doctor. Her dreams were crushed. She was too pretty not marry and marry high. My mother cooked and cleaned instead, and she showed me how to do the same. If I protested she hit me, hard. I wasn't angry with her, though. My mother, the beautiful Noel, had too much anger to contain. She needed someone to punish. That someone was me. I was sad when she died. She was my mother of course. And part of me liked it when she hit me. It made sense.
She had raised me to be a good, obedient girl. To smile through the pain. I was quiet and kind. I had inherited her looks too. I was pretty blonde and delicate. Pretty as a rose, father would always say. The prettiest girl on the kingdom. I was destined to marry some rich man.
My mother died when I was seven. Father decided he had to get a new wife. He choose Lady Vivenne, who was as beautiful as she was awful. She had two daughters who were just as lovely. One, the eldest Rosemund was a lovely brunette with scathing green eyes. The other, Annalee, was a delicate little red head with huge blue eyes. Both girls were bigger and stronger then me. I was permanently underfed. These women saw me as a threat to getting Father's money. I was so broken from my childhood that I wouldn't fight. When they starting making me their servant I didn't protest. I would just smile my pretty little smile and get to work. Cinderella they called me. So that became me name. When my father died the hitting began. If I spoke or annoyed them in any way they would hit me as hard as they could. That was pretty hard.
I, Cinderella now, just smiled. I was such a pretty girl.
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