This is a more modern version of Cinderella, based on the crumminess in the world and the true length of self-sacrifice. I warn you now, if you're looking forward to the happy ending Cinderella, I advise you not to read. What follows this chapter may surprise you, shock you, or even disturb you, or, for a while, you may be confused-but no matter what you read, this ending will be sad. It's been prewritten and outlined that way, so it will happen. You have been warned.

Also, for anyone who counts how many times I wrote "shit" in this, I'll give you a kudos in the next chapter. It's this bet my friend and I have and we need a third party to decide who was right. For anyone interested, the friend's name is The Rage of Fire. Check out her awesome stuff! She updates religiously, for all who are interested! :)

Sienna was oblivious the badness in the world when the call came in. She was hard at work, scrubbing the tables and clearing off the dishes so she could go home early. Feeling a bit more upbeat then usual, she even started to sing. It seemed to be the perfect day—no annoying customers, no bitchy ladies with dogs, and no unwelcome visits from her asshole stepmother. Smiling to herself, she set herself into work.

She was so set that when the baker, with pity in his eyes and a phone in his hand, walked in, she didn't so much as look up.

"Sienna?"

Dropping her rag in surprise, Sienna glanced upward. "Frank?" she whispered in surprise. "Please tell me you didn't hear me singing?"

"Sorry," he moved closer. "You've got a phone call. I…think you should take it in the closet."

Snatching it out of his hand, Sienna ran to the broom closet. Letting the door snap shut behind her, she put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Sienna?"

The voice belonged to her younger stepsister, Paige. She sounded unusually scared. Letting the phone fall away from her face, Sienna took a deep breath.

"Paige? Is that you? Are you alright?"

"No!" Paige shrieked. "I'm not alright! This guy tried to get in my pants! He was so nice, and then…and then…"

"Paige," Sienna forced her voice to remain calm. "Where are you?"

"The police station," she sobbed. "Where else could I hide?"

Sienna fell against the closet door. "The police station?" she repeated. "Did he try to…rape you?"

"He kept telling me Lori would do it," Paige cried. "So…I let him. But then I got uncomfortable! I told him to stop! But he wouldn't! He wouldn't, Sienna! So I…I ran!"

"Okay, just stay calm," Sienna could hear her crying on the other end. "I'll be right there. Did you call your mom or Lori?"

"How could I?" she asked. "Mom would call me stupid and Lori would tell me to stop acting like a dumbass. Please come get me, Siennna. Please."

"Okay," Sienna said. "I'm already on my way."

Sienna waited in her car. It wasn't much, with chipped paint and nearly twice her age, but it was the one thing she truly owned. She bought it with the money her father left her after he passed away and paid for the gas using the money from her job. Besides her stepmom, that made her the only one with a ride. Unlike her stepmom, she didn't share it. It was hers, so she always had it. Sometimes her stepmom would go for days without a ride, having leant it to her friends for booze.

Which, now that Sienna thought about it, might be why Paige called her. If she called her mother, she might not get picked up until Friday. Either she'd wait in the police station or walk home—or call Sienna, knowing full well she'd get shit from Lori about it.

But Sienna was sure Paige had a lot more then shit from Lori to worry about. When she came out, her hair was pulled back in a crappy pony, making her long, curly, black hair look dirty and unwashed. Her clothes were raggy, probably the ones from yesterday, and she had filth all over her face. A long scrape ran down her leg. Someone had tried to cover it with bandages, but using tiny bandages on a huge scrape didn't work. It looked messy and drew attention to the cut.

"Hey," Sienna called.

Paige's whole face flushed. It took her about three seconds to process that it was Sienna, not a rapist, or Lori, or god forbid, her mother. Slowly, her shoulders relaxed and she ran to the car, ripping the door open and sliding inside.

She reaked of alchol. It filled the whole car and made Sienna flinch away from her.

"Party last night?" she asked.

"Big one," Paige agreed.

Sienna smiled. "So I assume you didn't do any of your homework, then?"

Paige looked at her as if she were crazy. "We're not doing anything with our lives, Sienna. If you get out, it's cause your mom was some classy chick or something. We're shit, with a shit-ass mother."

"You got the shit-ass mother part right," Sienna said, putting the car in reverse. "But whether you are or are not shit is not defined by your mother."

"Says you," Paige grumbled.

Sienna laughed. "I guess so." She pulled off the curb and put the car back into drive. "In my opinion, you're not shit. If it means anything."

Paige didn't answer. Sighing, Sienna let the drive go in silence. Every now and then, she couldn't help but look over at Paige anyway, tallying in her mind which bruises were from the almost-rapist and which were from their stepmother.

Some people are born shit, not because of family, but because of their shitty thoughts, she couldn't help but think. Paige isn't shit, she's just growing up in a shit-filled place.

Home was less then inviting. The house was once average, with white siding and a red door and matching shudders, but now, it had that crazy-cat-lady appearance. The paint was chipped, the shudders either hung sideways or were missing, and the lawn was dead. Since Linda's drinking had started after the death of their father, nothing had been done to the exterior of the house.

The inside was little better. Bottles and papers covered every surface. Dirt and mud caked the once-shined wood, the fishtank was empty and stacked with a bunch of her father's old things, and the lighting was less then helpful. If anything, it made it appear grim and sad. Linda had closed all the curtains, another sign of her hangover.

Linda herself was sprawled out on the couch, a bottle in one hand and a piece of paper similar to a bill in the other. Lori was kneeling beside her, her too-yellow hair looking sickly in the dim light.

They were arguing, as usual.

"I don't see why I can't borrow the car!" Lori yelled.

"I been telling you, Lori," Linda slurred. "There isn't no car. Not 'round here no more. I got fired and had to sell it to…Jack. I think it was Jack. He had a mustache, and he…he kinda smelled like cherries. Lori, does Jack smell like cherries?"

Lori shrieked and jumped up. "You drunken bitch! You sold it for booze, didn't you? I hate you!" Spinning around, she saw Paige and Sienna in the doorway and started shrieking all over again. "Shut the door, dumbass! You're letting in too much light!"

Sienna noticed the redness in Lori's eyes. It amazed her how normal Lori had seemed. She was almost as tolerant as her stepmother had been before she really started to lose it.

"Paige, shut the door and go upstairs," she said.

Paige was happy to oblige. Slamming the door shut, with a muffled protest from her mother about noise, Paige screamed up the stairs without once glancing back.

Sienna was left with Lori.

"I need to borrow your car," she demanded.

"I'm sorry, I can't let you."

"And why's that, Princess Bitch?"

"Because I had to pick up our sister from the police station after nearly getting raped, because our mother didn't have the car or the money for gas to do it!" she yelled. "As she said, I'm now the only one with a job—unless you call what you do a job, Lori! I'm sure if you do it enough, you'll have enough cash not only for a car, but for the gas, too! Have fun with that shit!"

Lori was stunned. Taking advantage of it, Sienna ran up the stairs as Paige had. She didn't dare look back.

"YOU BITCH! SHE'S NOT YOUR SISTER!" Lori screeched, but Sienna barely heard her.

Stumbling into her bedroom, she found her bed and wrapped her arms around her pillow, burrying her face in it and crying herself until she couldn't think straight. She fell into a mess of vivid dreams, praying for a better tomorrow.