Cinderella had once enjoyed running errands for her stepmother in town. It gave her a break from her beastly stepsisters. And now, while she still enjoyed the walk, every where she went she saw despair.

While buying more ginger tea one day, Cinderella saw a group of children, not much younger than her, dart into a house in back of the shop.

"What is that house?" Cinderella asked the storekeeper.

The man looked over his shoulder at the house in question. He turned back to her, concerned.

"Don't go near that place, miss. Opium den, that is."

Opium! Cinderella had seen adults acting odd in town before, but thought their behavior was due to too much wine. She had only been in the grip of Madame Morphine once, when she had to have a tooth pulled. The doctor left strict orders with her stepmother as to how much to give her and how often. She remembered the light, carefree feeling it gave her.

She knew that some women took laudanum for their headaches and then couldn't seem to stop. She was glad her stepmother wasn't one of them.

As she walked down the street, she walked by the girl she had seen the day she bought the flower for her stepmother. She was leaning against a building, seemingly half-asleep. A needle was clutched in her thin hand. The girl saw Cinderella looking at her and thrust the needle under her blanket before falling asleep.

Without Stepmother, that would be me Cinderella thought as she started walking. Sleeping on the street and shooting morphine into my arm. Or selling my hair and teeth and body like Fantine. Constantly chasing the dragon.

Cinderella counted her change. Then she went went back into the store.

"Your tea, Stepmother," Cinderella announced later that evening. She carried a tray with two steaming mugs into her stepmother's room. One was a pale purple and the other turquoise. She set both mugs on her stepmother's night stand.

"Why two mug?" her stepmother asked as she picked up the purple one and sniffed it. "Smells different from typical ginger tea."

"That's because it's not ginger tea," Cinderella replied. "It's lavender tea. I heard it helps headaches tremendously. I had enough change left to get you a small box."

Her stepmother's blue eyes widened in surprise. "Well, isn't that thoughtful of you."

Cinderella smiled nervously. "How are you feeling? Headaches better?"

Her stepmother smirked. "Yes, child. Much better since you started massaging my back and neck every night."

"Good," Cinderella said seriously. "I am glad my pointy elbows are good for something."

"Have you read any more of Les Miserables?" Stepmother asked as she took a sip of her lavender tea.

Cinderella shook her head.

This time her stepmother's blue eyes narrowed at her. "Why? Don't like the story? Think you can write a better one? Well, let me tell you, young lady, you cannot. Les Miserables is one of the best, if not the very best, stories ever written."

Cinderella shook her head again. "It's not that. It's just…." she couldn't finish her sentence. She thought back to the girl on the street, shoving the needle under her blanket. The children, some who didn't look any older than ten, running into the opium den. She looked into her stepmother's blue eyes.

"Just what, young lady?" her stepmother asked. Her eyes narrowed into blue slits, trying to read her stepdaughter's mind. Cinderella looked down.

"I've read a little, but I've been too tired to concentrate fully," Cinderella said softly. "It's a very good book."

Her stepmother studied her coolly. Her blue eyes seemed to bore into Cinderella's soul. Cinderella felt herself begin to shake. She couldn't stop. She hid her hands in her apron pockets, but her whole body shook.

"You're trembling," her stepmother observed. She was beginning to get genuinely concerned. Cinderella wasn't acting like herself.

"I'm all right," Cinderella said, still shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. No matter what she did, she couldn't stop shaking. The more she tried, the more she trembled.

Cool blue eyes swept her up and down once more. "You can go to bed now, child. Thank you for the lavender tea."

Cinderella looked up, her dark eyes wide in shock. This was the second time her stepmother had thanked her for something in less than a week. "You're welcome, Stepmother. I hope it helps your headaches."

Stepmother smirked. "It does, thank you."

Cinderella kissed her cheek good night.

It was too hot to sleep in the attic that night, so Cinderella slept on the couch. She was sound asleep, so she didn't hear footsteps coming into the living room. She didn't hear a rustle of pages as Lady Tremaine picked up Les Miserables and checked how far she had read. She couldn't feel a thin, long fingered hand pull the sheet she had kicked off around her waist, or that same thin had on her back.

"Oh, my poor Ella," Lady Tremaine said softly as she pushed a lock of damp blond hair off her stepdaughter's pale forehead, "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"