Once Upon A Nightmare

- TWENTY FIVE -

- Tremaine -

Where was that pesky girl? Ugh, I really should have gotten rid of her when I had the chance. Ditched her in an orphanage where she belonged or in some academy in England.

Ugh, that slow, stupid, good for nothing girl! If she had never existed or had just died too I would never have to deal with any of this. Just because her father left her all the money and fortunes doesn't mean she's safe to just roam around.

No, that money was rightfully mine, it always was. She didn't deserve it. She had everything she had ever wanted what more does she want with it? It wasn't as if she had spent it on herself, wearing those ugly tablecloth rags for clothes. I was losing my patience with this girl once and for all.

"Cindy!" I listened to her groan carry down the stairs. "Get down here this instant!"

The loud thud of her obese body hitting the floor and walking towards the steps signaled her movements. This stupid, worthless fat hog wasn't even going to walk down the stairs to have a civil conversation.

"What," she snapped.

I watched in shock as she rubbed her eyes. Did she really think she could get away with talking to me like that? Ooh, she will think twice about that next time. I marched up the marble stairs and gave her fat, unbalanced body and little "nudge" forward.

"Hey! What the―" Her scream cut through the air, filling the house with her shrieks as she tumbled down the stairs.

The girls came running to a halt behind me, looking down at the mess the stupid one made on her way down. I calmly walked down the stairs, careful not to get the pig's blood on my new high heels. When I stood over her limp, bleeding body, I spoke.

"Never speak to me that way again. Learn your place in this home and in the world. You will always be a pathetic little orphan that no one cares for." I slowly walked to the door but something came to mind. "Oh, and Cindy, clean up this mess and don't let people walk all over you. I'll be at a school meeting, girls. I will be back after lunch."

With that, I stepped out into the world and drove myself to my home of torture. The place where all pathetic souls went to do nothing. The halls were empty, the air was breathable this time, and the evil meeting I was just about to go to was wonderful.

We thought of new ways to torture kids, cramming in tests into one day and giving them extra homework and projects. It was great until the real meeting began. Maleficent finally decided to show her face back in the building. Her skin was paler, greener than usual and her hair was let down today. Hm, must be a weekend thing. She started the meeting stating how ill she felt and what the agenda for this meeting was.

The meeting finished fairly quickly, mainly because she began coughing in fits and sneezing like nothing. Disgusting, wicked monster. She really needed to leave and clean herself up. I sure didn't want to catch a cold and sure didn't want that stupid girl taking care of me.

I could just imagine, her coming into my sanctuary with her soup and medication. She would always give me more than recommended and I hated how weak and tired the medication made me feel. I felt old; older than what Gothel really was. She could just as easily add arsenic to my soup or medication or even to my water. She would kill me in an instant. If she ever had the chance.

Once arriving back to my home, I noticed the blood was gone and the emptiness sounds of the house. I smiled to myself, today was a good day. I set a fire and relaxed in my den. The warmth began encasing me and darkness took over.

I stood in front of the large, open windows overlooking my estate and two little girls running about. I couldn't believe how small and innocent they were, they were so precious. Too bad only one of them happened to be mine. I sighed inward, life was never easy and these girls deserved more than I could give them.

I wanted Drizella to be happy for her birthday. I wanted to take her out to the family cottage where we always spent the first week of the warmer season. I happily headed off to Francis's office and open the door before knocking. My heart stopped; the sight before me began the icing process of it.

Francis stood with his back toward me and a pair of slender, young legs were wrapped around him. They were in the heat of the moment, never noticing me barging in on them. I watched as they finished and started again. And again. And again. Five different times.

At one point, he looked over his shoulder, smiled, and carried on with whatever business he was taking care of on his desk. He knew I was watching; he knew how I felt; he knew what this was doing to me and yet, he continued. I couldn't move; I couldn't close my eyes. All I could do was stand there and watch the man I loved rip me to shreds with each push of his pelvis.

Once he was done with her, he zipped up his pants and faced me. "Was there something you needed, dear?"

I ran. I ran for my girls. I ran to get away from him. I ran off so he wouldn't see my tears. How could he do that to me? How? After all I have given him, how could he do this to our daughters?

I peered deep into my fragile little soul through my own eyes. How? How could he do this? It was all because I let him. I let him run around and play in any hole he wanted to. I allowed him to roam around and do as he pleased with no regards to who saw and heard. I let him do this to my girls. I let it happen the first time and then Anastasia was born. And I let it happen since. Her real mother wasn't even close to the age of fifteen, just a child at thirteen who died during labor because her body was not ready for what the man I love did to her. And I let him.

I swore I would never let him do that again. That night, I played with him. I woke him up from his slumber and aroused his little friend. In a swift, sharp moment, the little fellow was gone. Bleeding out on the floor. And as for the big lug in my bed who howled out in pain, well, I drove that dagger through his heart not once, not twice, but twelve different times for the twelve different women who allowed him to toy with them. Soon after there came to be thirteen deaths of my town.

Every woman he had ever invited to his study were dead in a matter of days. All but one. That one; Anastasia's true mother. She had already passed and now was at peace. I began moving from place to place with my daughters and settled down with another man. My past once again caught up with me and with them came Francis.

Francis is the reason why Cinderella's father is dead. He had fallen ill and in my sleeping state, Francis drove me to kill him. I did what he wanted. I killed a man, a good man. How could Francis still torment me from the dead? What would it take for him to stop hurting me? How long would I endure this torture? I wanted out of this. I wanted peace. I was just so tired.

But what I really wanted the most was Cinderella's forgiveness for killing her father after all these years.