It wasn’t me
I rocked myself back and forth as I hit the side of my head. It wasn’t me, no, it was my horrible stepmother. She had done it, she had killed my father.
“It wasn’t me!” I closed my eyes.
“It wasn’t me.” I laid myself on the floor.
“It wasn’t me…” I let my breathing slow.
With a jolt, I awoke in my room alone. The walls were a shade of pink but they had started to look red. With the absence of my father, everything looked red these days. I held so much pent up anger for my stepmother that my teeth almost always, were clenched. I sat in my bed, still tired and looked towards the left where my door had just opened slightly.
“Who’s there?” I asked. I gripped the sheets of my bed and tilted my head as it opened the rest of the way to reveal my two stepsisters, Annette and Jeanne.
“Oh, relax. We’re just here to take you out.” Annette smirked.
“No. Not again! All you two ever do is get me into trouble.” I snarled.
“Hmm, how so? I don’t think I remember.” Jeanne asked. She came over and sat next to me on my bed. Annette stood at the doorway.
“Are you kidding? Because of you…” I cut myself short. I lowered my voice. “Because of you, some poor guy was put in the hospital.”
“Oh my god, Cinderella, please! It wasn’t that bad, it’s not like he died.” Jeanne groaned. “Annette, come here, we need to get her dressed.”
Annette began to walk to my dresser, then laying out some clothes. I still wasn’t sure about this; going out again. It had only been four months since my father was killed…four months since I had stabbed a stranger because of the news announcing his departure. I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for Annette and Jeanne. They said it was good for blowing off steam. So I did it. And I felt so much better. But there was no way I would be doing something as stupid as that again. So I was nervous as I got dressed.
I was in a vulnerable place before…I was desperate to feel better after my father’s death and for some reason, when my stepsisters had suggested I hurt someone…I thought it was okay to do. My judgment was clouded and I responded the way they wanted me to. I wouldn’t let it happen this time, not again.
“You both have to promise me we’re not doing anything stupid this time.” I frowned.
“Cinderella, we promise. Right, Jeanne?” Annette smiled at her sister.
“Right.” Jeanne smirked.
Hours later and we were out on the town, practically skipping through the streets. We were being total girls; following and drooling over the prince we had spotted. I guess you could call it creepy, but it was totally harmless. We were just curious as to what the prince had been doing out so late. We thought we were being sly but no, he turned his head as he walked and stopped. His eyes caught mine and I gasped.
“Cinderella, are you okay?” The prince asked. His eyes were like pools of chocolate and I was ready to take a dive.
“Um, Yes.” I laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be? I-Wait, how do you know my name?” I questioned.
“We’ve met before.” He smiled. “I think you’re having a d-“
“Cinderella, we should go. He’s weird. This was a bad idea.” Jeanne spoke, frantic. Annette nodded her head and they both desperately tried pulling me away.
“No! What is wrong with you two?” I spat. I looked back at the prince. “Sorry, my sisters are a bit of a handful sometimes.” I laughed.
“Your sisters? Cinderella, there’s nobody here but us…”
I stood there baffled. I looked at Annette and Jeanne who looked at me.
“See, I told you he was weird.” Jeanne spoke.
“What?” I shut my eyes, I was feeling unsteady.
“Cinderella, I think you’re having a delusion.” The prince spoke concerned.
“Shut up!” Annette yelled. She placed a knife in my hand. “Shut up! Shut up!”
I shook my head furiously. Everything felt fast. They were too loud.
“Shut up! Shut up!”
I gripped the knife in my hand and opened my eyes to look at the prince.
“Do it, Cinderella, stab him! He’s lying! He’s a liar!” Annette yelled. And in a second, Jeanne pushed me and with the knife in my hand, I let it rip a hole right through his stomach.
I dropped the knife in a panic; I shook my head with my eyes shut. I opened them up again and shook with fear and confusion as I saw my stepmother yelling at someone out in the hallway. A hallway. I wasn’t outside, I was in a room. White walls, white lights, a white gown on my body.
“No, no, no, no…” I looked at the blood on my hands. I looked down at somebody on the floor, bleeding out. He looked like a doctor but when he looked up at me, my heart dropped. It was my prince.
I backed away from him and the blood and the knife.
“It wasn’t me!” I screamed. I closed my eyes.
“It wasn’t me.” I laid myself on the floor. I cried.
“It wasn’t me…” I let my breathing slow.
I felt someone touch my shoulder and I jumped, my eyes opened. It was my stepmother. It was her, she killed my prince.
“You did it again! You killed him!” I screamed, hitting her. She cried, holding down my arms.
“No baby…no, it wasn’t me. It’s okay, you’re okay.” She whispered. I pushed her away. I cried for my father and I cried for my prince.
I rocked myself back and forth as I hit the side of my head. It wasn’t me, no, it was my horrible stepmother. She had done it, she had killed my prince.