Cindy POV
Ah, Sundays. Beautiful, quiet peaceful Sunday mornings-
Smash, bang!
""CINDERS!" Welp so much for that.
Dragging myself from bed while trying not to cry (damn who knew re-painting the fence could make you so sore), I quickly pull on some old jeans and a sweat-shirt tie my dirty blonde hair back before making my way downstairs to see what the trouble is. Waiting for me are dumb and dumber, oh beg pardon, I meant Anastasia and Drisella.
"Why haven't you made breakfast yet?" Anastasia demands as I hurriedly grab a broom. "We thought we were going to have to make it" Drisella sneers. "So, this mess is fault for making us wait."
Rounding the corner, I can see that they've manage to smash a couple of plates and- oh my God I am going to flay them- my mother's old teapot. It still amazes me how quickly they can ruin Sundays.
Pulling my usual trick of a few calming breaths (along with envisioning a couple of rather violent fantasies involving certain people), I ignore their fading giggles as they leave for their rooms and start pulling out eggs.
With peace at least temporarily restored, I can't help but reflect on my life thus far. Being Cindy Tremaine, only daughter of John and Elizabeth Tremaine was once a dream come true. A fantasy kingdom. A paradise that I cannot describe, mostly because as the years pass, it has become nothing more than a faded dream. Also, because if I did try it would sound quite cliché, less real, less solid. Something I had less of a hold on.
Most of the time, stories describe the end of kingdoms as one gigantic, earth-shattering event. Not my kingdom, no, it shattered in stages. First, my mother, my golden, singing, clumsy yet still always laughing mother. One day her laughing turned to coughing, then coughing turned to wheezing then to silence only broken by the sobbing of her husband and 11-year old daughter.
The next phase had to do with my father. After two years of continued silence and reluctant continuation of life, he decided that, with Mom gone, I would need female guidance as I got older. Enter the witch. No, that's too nice for her, witches are cool. Enter the harpy, then. For such good taste in women, where in the hell did he dredge this woman (I use the term loosely) and her demon spawn from?
Lucinda Moriarty and her two offspring officially became part of the Tremaine household two days after my 13th birthday. Five months of icy smiles and forced gestures later, my father left for business in London. Though he was supposed to return after 2 weeks, he came back just 5 days later. In a casket. An accident, they said. A wild driver didn't see the pedestrian sign. And just as quickly as his life was extinguished, so was the act of family that the gorgon had been putting on. Speaking of whom...
Whap!
Ouch. I swear she reads minds.
"Why are you so noisy?" Lucinda screeches, waving the wooden spoon she's just smacked my cheek with. She finishes off by going past me to look at the damage done earlier, shoving me so that I end up putting my hands on the hot stove to steady myself. One of these days, I swear.
Ignoring my involuntary cry, she makes a noise of satisfaction. "Ah! Well at least I won't have to look at that ugly junk your mother left, right Cinders." She smirks, turning the word into a slur. Three months, I say to myself. Three months left. I hiss due to both pain (burns hurt ya know) and that stupid nickname. I came in once with dirt on my face after sweeping the floors and Anastasia yelled out "Cinderella!"
Creative as a doormat.
"Do clean up that trash once you finish breakfast, won't you Cinders." She sneers. "Yes ma'am." As she leaves, I can't help but think of my mom's last words.
Be kind.
Smash!
I whip around to see that Lucinda's cat, Lucifer, has pushed some more plates to the floor. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear the little bastard is also smirking.
Be kind. Who knew kindness was like armor? Perhaps my mother did. Perhaps she had a glimpse of what she was leaving me to. Three months left, and my armor has served me well. Three months, they will all be rather surprised.
Once I finish breakfast, I make my way into the dining room with breakfast. I have to admire my own self-control in not punting Lucifer into the next century on the way. Who names their cat Lucifer anyway?
I'm snapped out of my musings by Lucinda dramatically throwing the papers she'd been looking at down on the table. "Why haven't I gotten that invite to the Realtor's Ball next month?" She moans. The girls also look upset. "Mummy, we won't find any men if we don't go!" Anastasia wails, causing me to wince. Honey, with a voice like that, you are more likely to find a man by staying home.
As my late father was a prominent figure in the real estate business, the family is always invited. Well, some of the family anyway. I'm fairly certain Lucinda's told people I died too.
I have to hide a smirk. The letter came last Tuesday but I couldn't help shoving it under my pillow. I may usually be kind but I keep myself going with small, secret (yes somewhat pathetic) acts of defiance. Considering I just got smacked for a spoon for late breakfast and some plates, there are no words for what would happen if they found out. But seeing their stress makes the risk totally worth it.
Oh well. I'll have to give it to her tomorrow so she doesn't get suspicious.
Scooting out of the room as quickly as possible, I head outside. We have a small barn where we keep a few chickens though I'm not really sure why to be honest. I quickly feed the chickens and as I turn to leave, I hear a quiet meow. Turning around, I see two more cats, one black and the other white black and can't help but smile. Unlike the furry demon indoors, I like these two. They've kept the place mouse-free since they showed up one night two months ago and may very well be the only two souls here who don't enjoy my misery. It's strangely soothing to see emsomeone /emaround here have a pleasant life.
"Hey guys. Hope you are having a nice Sunday." I murmur. They give brief purrs then trot off behind the hay. I have to wonder where they came from. Despite not being invited, I have no plans on telling Lucinda of their presence. She'd kick them out simply because she'd think I like them.
Heading back in, I stop dead at the door to my room. Lucinda's in there with the letter in her hand. Lucifer is sitting on my pillow. Both are looking at me.
Damnit.
Hey guys, here is the first full chapter. When it comes to our story's Cinderella, I've tried to make her a little edgier internally. I was greatly inspired by another fanfic called "A Fortnight" by Phantomphaeton (you should totally check it out). To find out what she means by "three months", just keep reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Cinderella or Warriors. I just own the plot.
