Anita

Prologue

The shrill wail of a babe echoed down the deserted hall as someone spanked it's tush.

The midwife, Hilda, a dainty woman with distinct features and a kind smile, grabbed a poorly knitted woolen blanket and wrapped the babe in it's scratchiness.

The babe cried on.

Frowning, Hilda rocked the babe gently, and as it slowly fell asleep, it's mother whispered in a hoarse voice, "Bring her to me." Karen had already known her child's gender, and her pride had glistened in her grey eyes as a salty liquid shone in the moonlight. Her face was a shadow in the candlelight, but her love for her baby was a flame in the darkened night.

Softly, the babe's mother sang to her:

Looking at the stars

Where my loves shines brightly

For You

The world spins

And the moon glows

And the tide rises

Because I love you

Slowly, the babe's glimmering orbs of blue shut closed.

Just as a shadowed figure plowed through the humble home's roof.

Just as the babe's mother gave her last breath...

***

Anita's dull blue eyes sprang open as she smothered a scream with her calloused hands.

It was the same dream as a few nights ago, and Anita didn't want anything to do with it. It disrupted her duties as the Scullery Maid, therefore giving her more lashes than usual.

She groaned as she pulled her aching back to an erect position, and yawned as she blinked away the sleep still lingering in her eyes. She was glad that it wasn't her in the dream, though. Surely that baby and her mother were dead, and that strange shadow killed the midwife. Though Anita was lucky to even know her mother, nonetheless how cruel she was to her, she couldn't help but wish that that baby was her. Dead and with a mother who actually cared.

Yes, Anita's mother could be classified as the evil Stepmother in those Cinderella stories she had once heard, though she had no other daughters to dote on, and Anita was Cinderella herself.

There were the differences though.

Anita's mother was a servant herself, and she was biologically related to her. Anita wasn't innocent, or kind for that matter, and she didn't have a father to give her courage. Neither did she have sisters to bestow her wisdom, or friends to give her comfort. Anita was all that she had, and all that she needed.

Taking the musings with herself, Anita pushed off of the thin mat on the floor of the attic and hurriedly woke the other's up. One sneered at her as her eyes were forced open, and another simply groaned and turned over.

"Okay then, Andrea, Christina, have it your way and sleep in. That should certainly count for several lashings." With a smile on her face and a dead look in her eyes, Anita left the girls who would surely get in trouble, and started her morning duties.

***

Anita heaved a sigh as she wiped the draining sweat off of her face.

Two more chores to do, then you're home free, Anita. Come on hands, don't fail me now! You too luck, don't turn your back and bring me trouble.

Her mother hadn't been present for whatever reason, and Anita couldn't find it within herself to care. Why should she worry about the person who was only there to hit her? She wasn't even qualified for the title of 'Mother', just 'Birth-giver', and that was that.

Just as Anita swept up the last of dust from the marble floors, the silicon entwined wood that made up the doors for the dining hall busted open. They hit the golden walls with a dull thud, and Anita's spine gave an involuntary shiver.

It was a woman who stood silhouetted in the doorway, with a cruel smile curled onto her red lips, and a cold glint in her dead blue eyes.

Dead blue eyes that mirrored Anita's exactly.