Cinderella-ish

I

Staring at the picture, I sighed for what seemed the hundredth time that night. It was a picture of my one true love, my soul mate....

Prince Oliver Chamberlain.

His neat chestnut hair, his warm brown eyes... Everything about him I adored. I couldn't help it, he was beautiful. Extremely beautiful, in all honesty. I could stare at this picture all day.

Leaning down, I prepared myself to kiss him. Imagining the cool, smooth paper was his warm, soft, mouth... His flawless, caramel skin....

"Ell!!" My stepmother brought me out of my thoughts, her annoyingly high voice piercing through my fantasies.

"Fine." I mumbled. As I made my way downstairs, I inwardly shuddered at the racket that was going on. It was always so loud in this house, despite being only four of us...

"Yes, mother?" I asked cooly, glaring at her as she sat idly in a plush chair. "What do you want?"

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, as if I was the ridiculous one. "What does it look like I want? Clean up after the twins, they're making a mess." Shifting a bit in her chair, she stared at me expectantly, and I had to choice but to obey. This was my "home", after all. Surveying the damage, I shot a glare at the two little girls with cherubic expressions, but got to work.

"But why can't you?" I muttered bitterly, as I started to put away toys and various items that they would eventually throw back on the floor. I knew this would work her up into a fit, just as bad as the twins, but I didn't care. I was annoyed.

"You're the one doing nothing, watching them trash the house, and then you expect me to clean it up so they can do it again. If you just disciplined these spoiled brats-" I heard her gasp, and immediately shut up.

3...2...1...

"They are not brats!" she shrieked, her voice threatening to shatter the windows. "How dare you call my children brats?!" Hmmm, I dunno...because they are?

Rolling my eyes, I started sweeping up a glass they had shattered, deciding not to remind her that I too was her child.

"...What business do you have insulting my children, when you never do a damned thing in this house?!"

Mind you, I was currently cleaning up as always, while she was crowing about how useless I was. Typical.

When I was finished cleaning the den (which undoubtedly would become just as messy in a matter of minutes) I went upstairs into my room. Plopping onto my bed tiredly, I glared at the ceiling.

"Fucking bitch..." I murmured, scowling, before getting up again. Glancing into the mirror only deepened my anguish. Plain hair the color and texture of straw, lifeless pale skin, muddy green eyes that seemed to bug out of my face. I was the polar opposite of Oliver.

Except for the fact that I was a boy.

I know what you're thinking; didn't I say that I was in love with him? Well, yes. I am. I just happen to have a dick.

Sighing, I made my way over to my meager collection of books. Most of them were stolen, and I honestly felt no remorse. I hated everyone. This world was stupid. They should all go kill themselves (except Oliver, of course).

So maybe my feelings were a little sociopathic for a 15-year old, but that's what happens when your upbringing was fucked, right? Not my fault at all; if you want to point a finger, point it at my morbidly obese stepmother downstairs. She'd probably mistake it for a piece of food and bite it.

Flipping through one of my newest additions, something blue against the crisp white pages caught my attention. Carefully, I flipped back to that page, and realized it was a folded piece of paper.

I was naturally curious, so of course I opened it to find out what it was.

"...Summon...a...da...daemon?" I muttered, squinting to read the small print that covered the entire page. "...Grant...your greatest...desires...no matter...how...big...Instructions...below...." Biting my lip, I skimmed through the rest of the page, a certain line catching my attention.

"Completely safe, will help you in any aspect of your life. Finance. Family. Love."

My breath hitched, and I bit my lip harder. Love?

After a few moments of staring at the page, I went to my door, closing it and locking it quietly. I didn't have anything to lose, right?