Reality Hurts

Michael Dye

You laugh at the young girl's joke. You were old, dieing, even. Not really... ha! What a joke. You may be 78, but you can handle yourself. That what you always told Jennifer when she was a tot. You sigh, looking out the window. Jennifer... you wonder where your daughter is now.

The young girl is tugging on your jacket.

“Tell me a story!” She squeals.

“Ok, Ok! Calm down! A story, huh? Well... Have you ever heard of Cinderella?”

“Cinderella?”

“Yes... Cinderella is a story from the before times. I used to tell this story to my daughter. So, once upon a time...” You continue to tell the little girl the story of Cinderella. Her eyes widen every passing word as she hangs closely to the storyline.

“Wow! What happens next? What happens next? Does Prince Charming find her? Does she find her Prince?”

“Calm down, I'm just getting to that part. So Prince Charming says, 'I shall marry the beautiful girl whose foot fits this slipper and only her.' So the Prince goes from door to door to find Cinderella. When he reached her house, the step-sisters become excited, hoping to marry the Prince.”

“But they can't! Cinderella has to marry the Prince!” True worry rings out from the girl's voice.

“I'll tell you what happens if you stay quiet. Now, the first step-sister tried putting on the shoe. Her foot was too wide and fat. The second step-sister's foot was too long and thin. Cinderella begged to try on the shoe, thought her step-sisters told her it wouldn't fit. When the shoe fit perfectly, the fairy godmother transformed her into the beauty she was the night of the ball. And the Prince asked Cinderella to marry him, and they lived happily ever after.”

“Yay! That was such a cool story! I wish I was a Princess!” The girl claps her hands in joy and laughs.

“What? You mean you're not a princess?” You gasp like you were convinced earlier.

The young girl giggles. “Of course I'm a Princess! You can call me, Princess Seria!” Seria wraps her jacket around her waist, mocking a skirt. “See?”

“What a beautiful Princess!” You pat her on the head as Johnny comes running in, skidding around the stone floor.

“Michael! We just found Oleander dead in his office,” Johnny stumbles on his words as he catches his breath.

“What?” You stand up abruptly. You turn to Seria. “Seria, you need to listen to me. Find your mother and go to the shelter.”

“But-”

“No buts! Go. Now!”

Seria stares at you before turning on her heel and running out the door past Johnny.

A crash echoes through the air.

“What was that?” You ask.

Johnny runs to the door, and scrambles back. “We're under attack! Apparently! That crazy chick 'Jennifer' is attacking? Since when did she have a gun?”

“Jennifer? My... Jennifer? She's alive?” You go into a trance. Johnny pulls on your arms, trying to get you back into reality.

“We have to leave... now! Michael!”

“Jennifer... Jennifer!” You break free of Johnny's grasp and bolt out the door. You can hear him shouting behind you.

Outside, the town grounds are already littered with blood. Seria is lying a few feet in front of you in a pool of her own life. You barely notice. All you can see is a lone figure, standing atop a one story building, a M4A1 in her arms. The barrel swings in your direction when you step from the doorway.

The barrel hesitates when the holder notices your face. “Dad?”

“Oh Jenny...” You wipe your eyes, afraid that your about to cry. “My little girl.”

“I'm sorry, Daddy. So sorry.” She realigns the barrel towards your head.

A lone gun shot rings out through the air. Jennifer falls off the roof, a bullet wound straight through her head. Johnny is standing behind you, holding his pistol up.

“You monster! She's my daughter!” You shout.

Your name is Michael Dye.You were born on February 28, 2056. Your mother's name was Zeny Dye. Your father's name was Loni Dye. Most of your life was good. Not in the war. Until that day. You thought you lost them. Your wife, your daughter. But Jennifer...

You wake up. Where were you? What happened?

Oh... Right... You remember.

You attacked Johnny after he killed Jennifer. He hit you in the head with a lead pipe. The pain is still throbbing in your head.

You look around. You're trapped in a prison cell. They must have locked you up after that little scene. There was no way you would survive the injury you got to the head. You realize slowly that you're going to die in this cell.

Footsteps approach the cell. You see Johnny through the iron bars. He has a small frown as he looks at you.

“Sorry for the blow. So sorry,” He whispers the last sorry.

“You should be sorry for killing my daughter. My daughter...” Your voice cracks when you mention her.

“I had to. She killed six of our men. Please forgive me.”

“I'll never forgive you. Ever!” You leap up against the iron bars, creating a surprised expression from Johnny. Johnny's eye twitches. The nervous habit he has is showing. All you needed to do was... it wasn't worth it.

You stumble back into the wall, sliding down to the ground.

“Sorry.” The last sorry echos through the air as Johnny walks away.

Yea, right. He wasn't sorry. You hug your knees to your chest and rest your pain-filled head on top. The room is getting blurry, and when you try to lift your head again, you become dizzy.

Oh well... At least you'll be with Jennifer, your insane daughter. She was always a bit different.

See you soon, Jennifer. Sorry...