Sometimes dreams do come true.

If you wish hard enough, long enough, eventually someone will hear your fervent pleas.

She got her wish alright.

She sat primly on a stool made of the finest mahagony, surrounded in splendor. Her dreams had manifested themselves on the walls in the forms billowly silk curtains. Her hands were smooth from the caress of expensive French handcream, her cuticles not daring to tread on her freshly manicured nails. The setting sun crept into her bedroom, its amber glow seeking refuge on her olive skin. She idly swept a silver handled brush through her dark tresses that lay loosely on her bare shoulders. She liked to leave her hair free and wild, but the occasion called for sophistication. With a twist and a flick of the wrist she swept the dark mass into a delicate chignon at the nape of her neck. She applied a bit of rose to her cheeks, and splashes of fairy dust coloured her lids. There would be no flashly charcoal outline tonight. Her eyes had become naturally dark and gloomy from months of living her dream.

The dress was beautiful, as always. Each new event called for a garment more expensive than the last. This one was a deep strapless scarlet that shimmered when she moved. She carefully opened the velvet box that had been left on her dresser and her eyes caught a glimpse of tantalizing sparkle. She wrapped the spider web of rubies around her neck, allowing the largest to nestle itself in the hollow of her throat. Like drops of blood the jewels splattered across her bare skin. She coated her lips with dark vermillion, allowing a bit of sluttish grace to seep through the icy exterior. She stared blankly into the mirror, barely recognizing the reflection. She was trapped inside the glass, stunning to look at but ready to break at any given moment. She pulled open the bottom drawer of the dresser and lifted a framed picture. Lightly brushing off the coat of dust she sighed heavily.

At first she didn't hear the whisper of the opening door until she saw him slide into the room. He stopped to run his aristocratic hands through his sandy blonde hair before giving her a chesire cat grin. He leaned in close until she could feel his breath upon her skin, his chin almost resting on her shoulder.

He reaked of brandy and lust. Typical.

He nonchalantly brushed a black tendril from her neck and let his fingers slide down to the juncture between her throat and shoulder before planting a kiss on her tender skin.

"It's almost time to go darling," he hissed, that velvet voice full of alcohol and sex. "I know it's terribly dreary, but don't you worry. There will be plenty of time to enjoy ourselves when we get home..."

She gave a small nod, "Of course Julian... dear."

The tight squeeze on her shoulder let her know that this enjoyment was mandatory. Her wifely duty. His lipped curled at her solemn expression, but he shrugged his shoulders and slipped out of her room like a fox leaving a successful visit to the chicken coop.

Her fingers curled around the photograph as broken tears slid down its glass surface. In one sudden movement she slammed the picture into the mirror, shattered prisms of glass scattering across the surface of the dresser and drawing blood. For the first time in months she wept with the full force of her being.

"Ethan..." she managed to murmer through choking sobs. "Ethan..."

The final word left her ruby encrusted lips before she hit the floor, a jagged shard resting in the groove of her palm. Waves of her own blood mingled with the crimson fabric that sheathed her tiny form.

Sometimes dreams do come true.

And sometimes we wish they hadn't