Azreal paces, and pauses by me. "Who would miss you, pet? Would anyone sighedy-sigh over one more lost maiden?" His voice is cold and harsh, yet entrancing. "Perhaps," he continues, "if she were the fairest of them all. But this is no fairy tale. And you are not fair. Not fair at all."

I take these words, and believe them. They're the same words that have always been spoken to me, except now they are blunt. No subtle subject changes or tinkly, fake laughs are there to hide them. And I prefer it that way. He is right. I am not fair. I never will be. I am sixteen, and the rest of my life is already mapped out for me. I shall always be just a governess. Just a scholarship student. Just a poor, timid girl to take advantage of. I shall never be beautiful. Or successful. Or happy.

Azreal seems to reach inside my mind, and twist my thoughts around me. They strangle me, yet I feel oddly at peace. "It would be a blessing if we took you, hmmm? No more burning inside while the others have all they could ever want and more. No need to cut into your own flesh. No more keeping your mouth closed tight around the scream that explodes inside while they mock you."

I nod. It's true, in a way. Although I used to have hope, that solid piece began to fade. Soon, I had nothing but a tiny thread. Now, I've given up. There's no reason to keep going. No motivation, no worth. I can't continue dragging myself through life. I'd be happiest in death.

Or whatever it is that he's offering.

His voice drops to a whisper, and he leans in. "Yes, we can end it for you."

I'm quite ready to agree, when Felicity interrupts. Azreal moves onto her, but I'm still lost in my thoughts.

Gemma sends me a look that clearly says 'Don't trust him.' I feel as though I should ask 'why not?' I know the answer to the question. I can just picture Gemma giving me a look of disbelief and disappointment, then saying 'because he is deceiving you.'

Perhaps my mind is the most deceiving thing of all. My mind used to tell me that life would soon turn in my favor. People would come from all corners of the world to hear me sing. In my heart, my soul, I may have given up hope. But my mind keeps telling me that some day it might turn around.

This alternate universe is mine to twist and bend. The perfectness and love that it portrays is enticing. It consists of a world of admiration, an adoring husband, a successful career, and happiness.

I would be described as beautiful and virtuous, popular, and always surrounded by a flock of adorers. Patient, caring, and always willing, I would be known not only for my voice, but my ability to seek out the good in all. I may scour the countryside in search of a lonely orphan, then be praised for saving her from her prison and teaching her to sing in a beautiful, gentle tongue such as mine.

When people thought of 'happiness', most thought of me in turn. In fact, 'Happy' would no longer be a distant land, just beyond the horizon. 'Happy' would be wherever I chose to stay. I would have it all, and no one could take it from me.

My mind floats by, thinking of the power and admiration that could come to me.

Suddenly, Gemma shouts, and the present situation comes back into focus. I sigh.

So quickly, bliss turns bitter. Because I am none of those things. I am the farthest from happy.