Reviews Q&A

To Hannah; Yes, Sarah is roughly 19-20 in this story, and instead of the mid 80's or so when the movie was released, this story is set in modern times. In response to the Alice and Wonderland undertones, I admit that Through The Looking Glass is a big inspiration for this story, and for where I want to go. However, I plan for this story to take on a whole new perspective on the Underground and the fairy-tales we know and love.

Thank you again for the responses, and to the other reviewers; Thank you for enjoying the story and yes, I shall try to write chapters regularly.

"I really am sorry Irene." Sarah said softly, sitting stiffly in the uncomfortable, tacky chairs her stepmother had bought recently, despite the never ending bills and debt she was quickly burying them in. "I lost track of time again." She looked down at her near empty plate, of which she had not touched nearly a single morsel.

It seemed Irene was cutting down her meals again, something she claimed was to help Sarah become more woman-like, with a better figure and disposition. However, it just made her ache in slight hunger, and leaving her drained of energy.

"Oh, you're sorry?" She fussed, face screwed up in an uptight annoyance. "You're awfully sorry indeed! Look at you, lankly thing, still running around in a child's dress-up clothes?

And that hair, do you ever bathe? And those nails!" She stood up abruptly, sighing in exaggerated disgust. "Go! Go to your room before you spoil the entire evening with your grime!"

Sarah looked to her father, who was eating absentmindedly with one hand and finishing paperwork with the other. "Dad–" She began to coax, hoping for a little support.

"Don't even think of bothering him with your whining!" Her father didn't so much as glance at her, much less his wife, completely oblivious to the conversation at hand.

"Sarah, dear, listen to your mother." He said, signing a loose contract, before eating a heaping spoonful of Shepherds Pie. She sighed, standing up reluctantly.

"She isn't my mother," She mumbled under her breath, pushing her chair in. "And this isn't dress-up clothes for children, I made it myself."

"Oh? And would you say that that failed, sorry excuse for an actress is a better mother than me?" Irene gave a snide jab, her hand on her hip. "Or if you don't wish to discuss her, perhaps you'd like to tell me where you got the money to make that little costume?"

"Dad gave it-" She started to explain, only to be cut off once again. Irene shook her head in mock shame, tut-tuting in bitter judgment.

"Asking for money from your poor father? Even with all these bills piling up, you sit on your fat bottom and live here for free, eating our food, wearing clothes we buy for you," She glared at her in malice. "You still have the audacity to ask for more money? If you want to waste our precious income on that trash you're wearing, get out of this house, get a job, and do it without burdening others. Honestly, how selfish can you be?"

"I'm sorry Irene." Sarah finally relinquished, face burning with an undeserved shame. "It won't happen again."

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Thank you, and happy reading.