A/N: Ah yes, I know: another story, Tamaran Girl? Are you insane? Ah...my friends will agree with you on that one. Anyways, I was going to bed when BAM! This story hit me like...like a snowball being smacked in your face! LOL. Anyways, I present to you this new Cinderella re-telling and it is a bit more serious than Fairy Tales Just Aren't For Me. It's more...in depth in her servitude and...yeah...okay, I'll let you read now...


Chapter One: One Day...

Scrub this; clean that, I thought bitterly as I scrubbed the floor of the huge manor furiously. That's all I hear nowadays; if not cleaning, than obeying their every single command. The whole evil lot of them.

By them I meant my stepfamily. My stepmother and stepsisters. And why were they ordering me around? Well…it all happened a long time ago…

My mother –The Countess Elizabeth of Emerval – had died when I was five years old. I remember her scent: faint roses. She had the prettiest laugh and would light up any room she stepped foot into. She was…well, she was perfect. And she died of a terrible disease that had passed through our land, Rayera, and other lands, killing countless.

The funeral had been terrible to see my mother be lowered into the ground, never to laugh or tickle me or tuck me into bed ever again. She was gone. My father had stood by my side, tears trailing silently down his handsome face as he held my small hand. He loved my mother so much I knew that it was hard for him. It was harder for him than it was for me since mother was his wife and he knew her longer. I only knew her for five years.

A year went by and father and I lived that year in total happiness and bliss. But he said something was still missing: a mother. He wanted a mother for me to teach me how to be the perfect lady, how to dance, manners, and everything a mother should teach a daughter that a father could not. I already was more tomboyish than ladylike; that's the result of having a father as both parents. But I was thankful to at least to have my father; him with his dark brown hair that looked like mine and his light blue eyes that always seemed to be laughing. I had my mother's emerald green eyes and her long, slender fingers.

Everything was perfect for that year with only father and me and the servants of the manor.

Until they came into the picture.

My stepmother, Loretta, always acted superior to anyone. And she had two horrible daughters who followed in their mother's snotty, snobby ways: Isabelle, one year older than me (I was six years old) and Rebecca who was my age and already always crying and seemed to be whining. Isabelle, however, was the stepsister who was more dangerous. And more horrible.

My father, however, never saw this. Loretta made sure to keep a sweet act for him and her daughters followed suit; smiling sweetly and acting like perfect little angels. But I knew that it was just an act; they hadn't been so kind to me. But I never knew my father would marry them. I would have spoken up if I only knew.

They married when I was seven and I knew, as they were cutting their cake, that life that I knew it was coming to an end. My predication came true after a year.

My father died. He died. My laughing, smiling, goodhearted father died. The last parent I ever had left was dead; gone. Just like mother…

The funeral was even worse than mother's. I saw my father, the Earl of Emerval, in the coffin, looking all stiff and…and not smiling. He looked so stern and I yearned for his eyes to pop open, revealing dancing blue eyes and be alive and everything would be well again. But it wasn't. Because he couldn't open his eyes ever again and hug me and hold me and play games with me. Because he was dead.

Loretta was delighted. Of course, she cried like there was no tomorrow at the funeral but the second we got back to the manor, she began to inspect everything and how much everything was worth. To her delight, most of the things were very expensive. And she got it all. I was supposed to receive all when I came of age, which was eighteen, but I doubt I would. The only thing Loretta got that she completed loathed and didn't want was me. I'm pretty sure if she could, she would have thrown me onto the streets.

Instead, she would make me suffer for the next eight years of my life.

I forced out of my beautiful room, the room mother and father had come and bid me good night so many times, where I had played hide-and-go-seek with father countless times. And instead, I was moved into a servant's room. Loretta took all my dresses and gowns and gave them to Isabelle, who's eyes glinted maliciously as she accepted them, sending me a superior look to me in my new servant's uniform.

I became a servant in my own home, the home that belonged to my father and had no right to be in the hands of Loretta and her awful daughters. And I forced to do their bidding. If, of course, I wanted a place to stay. I not one cent on my, no money or anything. So I had to stay and serve them obediently and be their slave.

When I had been younger, I had dreamed of someone saving me and rescuing me, banishing my stepfamily from my home and for them to never return. But these were foolish dreams; no one was going to come for me because I knew no one beyond the manor walls.

My only friends were those servants of the manor who used to happily serve me but now bitterly served Loretta. The only reason, they said, that they were staying was because of me.

Hannah was a type of motherly figure to me. She had been my nurse and "caretaker", if you want to call it. She had been my nanny when I was younger and would watch over me when father was away. She stuck by me and would say a million times after dealing with Rebecca and her famous tantrums that she missed serving me; I hadn't thrown things at her nor screamed.

So it's been eight years of this servitude to my family. I'm sixteen now and in two years' time, I will be of age to inherit my family's wealth. But I highly doubt Loretta will let me even near that money; she'll make up something that I had drowned or she'll actually drown me. Anything to keep her tight hold on my family's wealth.

Sharp footsteps snapped me out of my thinking and I scrubbed the floor of the hallway harder, the rag in my hair keeping it out of my eyes. My servant clothes were beyond filthy and Loretta was delighted whenever I was covered in filth.

Two shoes stopped in front of me and I stopped scrubbing the floor with the rag. Instead, I stared at the tapping foot. I wanted no more than to grab her leg and stuff it in the bucket…

"So," came Loretta's cold voice. "So. I assigned this task a few hours ago, Alexandra." I didn't even wince or look at her, although I hated to be called by my full name. I preferred to be called by my nickname; the nickname my father would always call me. Alex. "And you have still not completed it? Tsk, tsk. I suppose you need more work?"

I bit back my response that I would have said if she thought she could do it quicker, than she could do it herself. Instead, I glared loathingly at her foot, since Loretta never liked me to look her in the face; she thought it would show disrespect to look into a "superior's" face.

"Toot, toot, it seems you're getting more dirt and cinders on your clothes than on that rag," she said, gloating. My hand that held the rag tightened its hold and I restrained myself from not punching her in the nose and relinquish the feeling of satisfaction of seeing her scream in pain.

Another pair of sharp footsteps came down the hall so that I was staring at two pairs of feet. "Mother!" came the angry voice of Isabelle. I glanced upwards to stare the two. Both of them – even if I hated to say it – were highly attractive. Actually, Isabelle was much more prettier than her mother. While Loretta's blond hair seemed to have died, Isabelle's shined and she always loved to flip it to catch the sunlight or any light in that matter. Both had dark blue eyes that seemed to always hold a special loathing reserved only for me.

"Mother, Lady Elena has this gorgeous gown that I must have! She has taken ill so she won't be able to attend tomorrow's ball. So, I can go without her being there and knowing I was wearing the same gown. Besides," she flipped her hair, "I would look better in the gown anyway. I mean, Elena is getting an awful case of pimples it's simply hideous!" She glanced down at me and I saw a smirk curve on her lips. "Ah," she said, "Alexandra of the Dirt and Grim. Or isn't your name Asherella?" She laughed coldly. "Dirty scum, more like it." She was grinning as if she had gotten that gown already with shoes to match.

Loretta was looking pleased at her daughter's disrespect and lack of politeness towards me. Anyone bothering me or being cruel to me was like a treat to her. "But really, Alexandra is too ladylike for you, Asherella," Isabelle said. "But of course, that nickname your father called you makes you sound like a boy." I froze when I heard her mention my father and felt anger course through my blood. She continued, "Alex, really, what kind of father calls their daughter Alex? Unless, of course, he had rather have a son than a worthless, pathetic daughter as yourself. He really was pathetic, your father, you know. He – "

I wasn't even aware of my actions. One second, I was boiling on the floor and the next; I launched myself at Isabelle and managed to grab a fistful of her blonde hair and yanked with all my might, causing her to scream in pain.

"ALEXANDRA, YOU STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" Loretta screamed, grabbing at me and yanking at me to let go. But I didn't let go and kept a tight hold on Isabelle's hair, and she was crying and screaming. "LET GO!"

"NO!" I screamed, furious beyond words. No one insulted my father. No one. "You aren't worth ANYTHING! You hear me? You, Isabelle, are the pathetic one! NEVER INSULT MY FATHER EVER AGAIN!" I screamed.

Isabelle was crying and screaming and trying to fight me off. Loretta was trying to yank me off but to no avail. I held fast on her hair, not even thinking, as I screamed again, "NEVER!"

Loretta finally yanked me off of a sobbing, hysterical Isabelle. And then she slapped me. "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER, YOU INSIGNFICENT LITTLE PIECE OF FILTH! THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE! FILTH!" She grabbed my arm and began dragging me to my servant's room. We left Isabelle and her hysterical cries and we reached my room, where I was thrown inside.

"No dinner tonight," she hissed out. "Not until you learn respect for your betters." And she slammed the door in my face.

I glared at the door and kicked the walls and screamed hating words at her, cursing her with every word I knew of. And then I sank on my bed, glaring at the door still and still feeling the anger in my blood boil.

One day… I thought. One day…

But when would that be? Hannah told me those words every day since I was turned into a servant. "One day, sweetheart," she would whisper to me before tucking me into bed. "One day this will all end and you'll be happy again. One day…"

But that one day was never going to come. I was going to be under the thumb of Loretta, Isabelle, and Rebecca for the rest of my life. Forever. And there was no hope whatsoever.


A/N: I hope you all enjoyed that and thanks for reading! Sorry about the long wait for Fairy Tales Just Aren't For Me; I've been reading this amazing fanfiction story written by EnchantedGurls (dreamerdoll and Ellafreak). The story's called Ella of the Ashes and I LOVE it! I am, if you want to call it, a tad bit obsessed. So, read it! Trust me, that story is worth reading!

Please review!