His Evil Cinderella (On Hiatus)

Slowly Beginning

A/N: Enjoy.

Copyright © 2013

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the author.

The chracters, places, situations and events of this story are developed materializations of my imagination and therefore belong entirely and definitely to me. Please do not steal. I shouldn't be punished for your lack of originality and creativity.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the name brands i.e. Nike, Nestle, etc that might appear in the story.

Picture: Rae Wyman. :P ;)

Trailer in the external link.

Happy reading!

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Chapter One

~Give me love like never before,

'cause lately I've been craving more,

And it's been a while but I still feel the same,

Maybe I should let you go,

You know I'll fight my corner,

And that tonight I'll call ya,

After my blood is drowning in alcohol,

No I just wanna hold ya.~

---Ed Sheeran, Give me Love.

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The steady dripping of water continued, like the beats of a hypnotic song. As each drop fell against the cold stone, he heard it amplified in his head. It echoed discordantly, making his head pound painfully. The stone-flagged floor beneath him was incredibly hard. Arctic chill seeped into his ragged clothes through it, curling around his core. As each second passed, the shackles around his wrists and ankles seemed to tighten, and his breath came out more and more erratic---more pained. He was all alone and it hurt.

It hurt so much.

Warmth had left his body a long time ago. His clothes had been shredded into ribbons. He was still as a lifeless stone statue, too weak to  move, crouched in this horrible position for years. The time passed slowly, stretching into nothingness and with it, his sanity also slowly declined. The wounds on his body burned, a reminder of his demise. His heart palpitated with the last dwindling burst of hope, pushing and fighting for survival. The stench of blood, earth and urine choked him. His face was stiff with the trail of countless tears; his throat was raw and damaged from all the inhuman, animal-like wails that took flight from within him.

He was an empty shell. His emotions had diffused out of him. His world was black and grey.

Cold. So cold.

If only he'd known...

Her face flashed in his mind for a millionth time. That sweet, lovely face, oh lord, how crazy he'd been for her. For how long had he gazed upon that ethereal face, tracing its gentle features permanently into his memory? It haunted him now. It still haunted the cracked empty shell he'd become.

He remembered the time when he'd first seen her. She'd been as lovely as the first blooming flower in spring, with those wide doe-like, deep blue eyes and long, curling red-brown hair. Her ivory gown had been rippling from her waist like streams of glittering water. She was a beautiful water guardian, it seemed, and she had lured him to her like moths to a flame. She'd been standing at the edge of the dance floor, looking upwards at the shimmering ceiling. He'd felt his breath leave him and he'd known that he was a goner.