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A Different Cinderella Story

By Sierra Elliott All Rights Reserved ©

Romance / Fantasy


In my closet, oh wait, sorry. I chose the wrong word. In my dungeon. Fuck! I did it again. In my bed room, I wait. Hungry, torn, raggedy, unclean. I wait for the dawn to rise, so I can set my plan into motion. BryTaNay was once a happy girl in a happy world until her life fell apart. She will rise again, but will she reign or will she be slayed? All hail the newest Cinderella Story. +Part of 'Another ___ Story' series+ This is all original. This is the only place I have posted this. If you see it elsewhere, tell me please. I don't mean to offend, but it may occur. I am very blunt and honest and my writing contains language not used often or everywhere, by everybody. Please don't take offense.


Just a quick author's note, before we begin, I would like to say HAAAAIIIIIII.... I'm new to Inkitt. I actually just heard of it last week so yeah... Thanks for reading. I actually wrote this like 2 years ago, and I changed a couple things here and there. Please tell me how to improve this. I may come back and edit. I actually need an editor so HMU. Ummm... Thanks Enjoy. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

PS: I'm warning of a few triggers later in the chapter.

In my closet, oh wait, sorry. I chose the wrong word. In my dungeon. Fuck! I did it again. In my bed room, I wait. Hungry, torn, raggedy, unclean. I wait for the dawn to rise, so I can set my plan into motion. I mend my clothes, steal food to eat, medicate my wounds, bathe myself. I mend TyFiNi's, RiBekXa, and Master's, Mrs. Gladuh, clothing. I feed the cattle and slave away in the freezing night air because it's fucking January, but this is worth it. I weed and reap the crops in the field, keeping a sizeable, but yet unnoticable, portion of crops for myself. I take care of my duties and then I check the time on my iPhone. I may be a slave, who tends to the fields and animals, but I have standards. 16:10. I have two hours before I should begin making the fancy breakfast the '"Rich" Bitches' ,as I call them, claim they deserve. What they deserve is: a) a toothbrush and toothpaste, b) soap for that nasty ass (shit should not remain in your panties, nigga), c) Halloween masks for each and every on of them cuz they are painful to look at.
I walk back into the house, moving at a deadly silent speed, ensuring I don't wake up anybody. I majourly regretted it last time. My scars throb at the memory.
It's not quite dawn yet. I reach my room and enter. I sit on my bed and I begin to cry. I pull out my box. The box is made of mahogany and has lovely gold detailing on it. It's a pretty box with a not so pretty secret. I pull out my hidden secret...
When I'm finished with my secret, I cry some more. I cry because I hurt. I cry for my "family" . I cry because my parents were mafia spies who died. I cry for the spirits and souls of GeniFur, TyFiNi, and ReBekXa Gladuh. I cry for myself and all the injustice in the world. Most importantly, I cry for my lost friend.
His name was Jacob Daniels, he was the shoe maker's son. He brought his family pride, being friends with one of the richest people in town and never was two faced, took her money, or ate all her food. He was an amazing person. He was her world and she his. Then, he was sent to feed the cows and never returned.
I go make people food
But at last, I see the light of day and I take my prepacked bags and tiptoe out the house. I look at this place. I see so many years of fun, joy and hope and decades of abuse, sadness, and slavery. I throw a brick thru the window and run.

I run to freedom, my nigga.

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