Bloodied Glass Slippers

The sun shone down upon the small house just like it did everyday. Cinderella cleaned the dust from the window seals, humming a tuneless melody as she went. She frowned at the dust, wondering how there could possibly be so much when she’d cleaned the same window just the week earlier. It didn’t matter how it got there, she’d have to clean it no matter what.

Although she may have acted like one, Cinderella was not, in fact, a maid. Her father had married a monster of a woman and then died before realizing how awful his new wife had been. So she was stuck with her evil step mother, and her two egotistical daughters. Their names were Kate and Emma. At least her own mother had better since than to name her a dreadfully common name. Cinderella’s mother had died giving birth to her, so she only had her awful step mother and sisters as family.

Luckily, they were out of the house for the day. The ball was that night and even though they had spent months preparing for it, they still seemed to need to buy something else. It all seemed a little silly to Cinderella. She would have rather died than go to some silly little dance, but at ten o’clock that night, she would be there, ridiculous dress and all. Dust floated into the suns rays as she dusted an expensive looking coffee table. It was a knockoff, of course, but if Cinderella ever mentioned it, she would regret it. She didn’t know what they would do, but it would hurt. A lot. At a young age, she learned it was better to keep your head down. It was safer that way.

But not all bad had come from this torment. After all, she was going to the ball tonight because of it. When Cinderella was eight, just ten months after her father died, she went to the bakery to pick up some bread for her stepmother. The man wasn’t noticeable at first, average height and build, no defining features. But he had noticed her. He had noticed the bruises that her dress sleeves didn’t quite cover, the limp she had from a broken ankle that never set right, the fear in her eyes. He had made himself known to her by politely introducing himself. Unsure about him at first, Cinderella was hesitant to speak with him, but soon he charmed his way into her heart. She had blushed when he asked about her bruises, muttering some dull excuse.

“I can make sure you don’t ever feel powerless again,” he promised her.

“How?”

“Well it’s simple really, why don’t I tell you as we walk back to your house?”

He then told her how strong she would become, how no one would ever be able to lay a finger on her without her consent. She listened intently, her eager eyes getting larger by the moment. He offered to train her, to make her into something un breakable. She readily agreed.

Now it was ten years later, and wasn’t quite untouchable yet. Her step mother had at least stopped hurting her, realizing that Cinderella could now fight back. The man still visited every Sunday while her family was away at church. Except he didn’t give her lessons or make false promises, instead he would give her a slip of paper. This slip of paper would have a name on it and nothing else. She would throw it in the fire as soon as she had memorized the name. This was the way things worked. Both were content with the system.

This day was a little different, but not by much. She’d gotten her slip of paper five days earlier and that name had seared itself into her brain. The slips were nothing, gone as soon as the flames turned them into ash, but the names were everything. The names meant she had a job to do. The planning part of it was the most fun, she thought, cleaning the house as she imagined the perfect way to complete the task.

Her family could never know, not that they paid enough attention to her to find out. She switched to cleaning the ancient wooden chairs that her step mother refused to get rid of. There were only three chairs surrounding a circular table. This was to show Cinderella just how much she was unwelcome in their home.

She heard a carriage pull up to the house and sighed. This meant her horrible sisters were home. Hopefully they’d be so excited about the ball that they would ignore her completely. But Cinderella wasn’t that lucky.

“Cinderella,” Emma called out as soon as she was in the door, “come see my gown for the ball. You know, the ball that the prince is holding tonight? Oh, right, you’re not going.”

She giggled as Cinderella clenched her jaw and forced a smile. “Your gown looks lovely.”

It really was beautiful, not that she would admit that to anyone. It was a floor length lavender gown with an intricate design around the torso. Cinderella’s gown wouldn’t be nearly that nice, but she didn’t mind. The gown did matter, the job did. Emma’s long blond hair was not put up in any way which meant she would probably spend the next several hours trying to make it perfect. Kate, on the other hand, would spend all her time on make-up, barely paying attention to her brunette hair. It would look perfect anyway. That’s just the way they were.

Kate walked passed her slowly for two reasons: to show off her gown and to knock a coffee cup off the counter so it spilled on the floor. Cinderella would be the one to clean this up.

“Oops,” Kate sneered.

Her step mother came into the kitchen looking worn out from the day of shopping. “Cinderella! Clean that up right now. We’ve been gone all day, I can’t believe it’s there. You’re lucky I don’t throw you out and never let you come back. You should be grateful.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she responded with as much politeness as she could manage.

Her step mother was too tired to notice Cinderella’s tone.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Her step sisters were too busy thinking about the ball to antagonize Cinderella as much as they usually did. Although they did complain about having to come home at midnight even though the ball was supposed to last much longer. Their mother insisted on this, reminding them they had an early brunch meeting with some group of rich people Cinderella had never heard of before. The sisters reluctantly agreed.

“Bye Cinderella,” Kate called, “don’t get too bored cleaning all night.”

All of them laughed nastily at this comment and then their carriage took off. Cinderella smiled and went back into the house. It was time to complete her task. The name she had received was the only thing on her mind.

She slipped out of the house and went to where she always did on evenings she worked: the bakery. It was warm and smelled of fresh bread just like it always did. The walls were a comforting brown that made her feel at home, something she never felt at her other house. The lady she was expecting to see sat behind the counter.

“How are you tonight, dear?” she asked.

Cinderella smiled. “Good, how are you?”

“Good as I’ll get. You’re going to the ball?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then let’s get you dressed.”

She went through a swinging door and came back a few minutes later with a beautiful gown, even better than her sisters’. It was exactly what she needed, but she hadn’t expected anything less. For years, this woman has been supplying her with everything she needed to get her job done. It was almost like she had her own fairy godmother.

“I’ve got one more thing for you, honey.” She pulled out a pair of glass slippers.

Cinderella gasped. They were perfect. She knew exactly how to use them.

“Are you sure?” Cinderella asked in awe.

“Of course, and they should be a little bit too big.” She winked.

A smile crept onto Cinderella’s face. These shoes couldn’t be more prefect for her. She would have thanked her many more times but she needed to leave soon if she was going to get to the ball on time.

“Thank you so much,” she said one last time and ran out the door.

It took her less than twenty minutes to get to the castle where the ball was being held. She didn’t dare change before she got there for fear of ruining her shoes. Cinderella slipped behind one of the magnificent hedges and changed. She snuck back out and pretended she belonged there.

The castle itself was magnificent. It was huge with a perfectly manicured garden and large glass windows. The inside had high ceilings with diamond chandeliers in every room. The gold decorations -real gold, no doubt- hung against the white walls to create a stunning contrast. Even Cinderella had to admit that this place was amazing.

The ball was already in full swing by the time she got there. Entering the ballroom, she cast her eyes upon dozens of dancing couples wearing clothes worth more than her entire house. Everyone there seemed to be having a great time. Cinderella paid no attention to them; she had a job to do.

She glanced at the clock and found it was fifteen minutes past eleven. Only forty five minutes to do her job. She could do it in less than twenty.

Cinderella made her way through the crowd, hoping to catch a glance at the person who’s name had been given to her that week. Her over-sized heels made it hard to navigate as gracefully as she would have liked. At last she set eyes on him and the whole world stopped. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw his perfect face. It was the prince.

He wore a charismatic smile on his handsome face. Several girls were around him, trying to impress him with meaningless drivel. She had to get him alone. Finally, he excused himself with some lame excuse. This was her chance.

“Hello,” Cinderella said in her sweetest voice, “this ball is simply wonderful. I threw my own just last week but I have to admit it wasn’t quite as nice as this one.”

He smiled at her. She was pretty and had just implied that she was of royal lineage too. He couldn’t pass this up.

“I’m sure yours was much better than this. Would you care to join me in the next dance?”

She giggled. “I would love to, but this song is going to last for a while. Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private first?”

He grinned. “I know a perfect spot.”

It still amazed her how stupid some people could be. She didn’t have any markers of royalty. He hadn’t ever heard of her before. And somehow he trusted her. That was a mistake she never made.

The prince led her to a small room just outside of the main ballroom where the dull mummer of the party could still be heard. She tried not to trip over her own shoes as he led her away.

“So,” the prince said, “we’re here.”

Cinderella could see the exact shade of blue his eyes were. They really were beautiful eyes. It seemed such a waste.

“I know,” she giggled, “there’s just one thing I want to do.”

“What’s that?”

She finally dropped the facade. It seemed useless to keep it up now that they were out of sight. She smiled viscously, the room growing much colder.

“What going on?” the prince asked nervously.

“It’s ok,” she whispered, “I’ll make it quick.”

In two seconds, he was on the ground. In three, the heel of her glass shoe was embedded in his throat. He tried to scream or cry out, but the hole in his neck kept him from it. In ten seconds, he was dead.

She still hadn’t removed her foot from his throat. She needed a way to conceal the blood as soon as she took it out. Unfortunately, just as she realized this, the clock struck midnight. She needed to get home as fast as possible.

Cinderella took off running, noticing she had one shoe instead of two only after she’d left the castle. She smiled as she slipped off the other glass shoe. Cinderella ran with bare feet all the way back to her house, arriving only minutes before her family.

She stoked up a fire and threw the glass shoe inside. Now there was no evidence, unless the shoe she’d left in her victims throat counted as evidence. It could be tied to her if it came down to it. But of course, she thought with a rueful smile, the shoe never fit right anyway.