Glass Slippers

Chapter 1

Sang's POV.

In the depths of night, I found myself fleeing through a desolate field, shrouded in an impenetrable darkness. Without a clear purpose or knowledge of the chasing shadows, panic fuelled my desperate steps. The encroaching darkness threatened to consume me entirely, yet a sliver of light beckoned me forward. I pushed my weary body to its limits, my heart pounding with each breath. Victory was within reach; I was on the verge of escape.

Suddenly, I jolted awake, my body drenched in sweat, a throbbing headache already beginning to take hold. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and gingerly made my way across the dimly lit hallway to the bathroom. Peeling off my pale pink nightdress that clung uncomfortably to my damp skin, I stepped beneath the cascading spray of the shower. The warm water washed over me, a soothing balm to wash away the haunting remnants of dreams and memories. I scrubbed myself clean, letting the water carry away the horrors of the night, before shutting off the taps and stepping onto the chilly tile floor. A shiver ran through me involuntarily, a reminder that winter was fast approaching. Wrapping a brittle, coffee-coloured towel around my body, I moved towards the hand basin to brush my teeth.

With my morning ritual completed, I cast a cautious glance down the hallway, making sure no one had decided to wake up early, and slipped back into my room to choose what to wear for the day. To my dismay, my clothes had been replaced by Rocky's old garments. Whether it was Rocky's misguided attempt to witness me clad in his belongings or the scheming of Danielle and Marie, who coveted my wardrobe, I refused to grant them the satisfaction. I use my sewing machine later to change these unwanted garments into something useful later. But for now, I sought solace in my mother's vintage dresses from her own youth.

Turning the doorknob, I entered the small attic space that housed the chest containing my mother's cherished attire. Crawling amidst the memories and the scent of old fabric, I lifted the exquisitely carved wooden lid. Resting atop the collection was a white dress with delicate shoulder straps. Its bodice held me firmly, concealing the remnants of scars etched upon my back and stomach. The billowy skirt gracefully fell to my knees, and the fabric felt impossibly soft against my skin. Although it deviated from my usual style, I yearned to feel closer to my mother, so I resolved to wear it today. It had been so long since I had seen her and she was barely a hazy memory represented more by a golden glow and feeling of love opposed to the vision of a physical person. Sometimes I wondered what my life would have been like if she was still alive. While it was nice to contemplate thoughts like these were pointless and wouldn't change my situation.

Gently closing the lid of the chest, with the dress draped over my shoulder, and towel secured around my body, I emerged from the attic space, sealing the door behind me. Standing upright, I walked towards my dresser, relieved to find that whoever had invaded my room had left my underwear untouched. I donned a matching white bra and underwear set, ensuring they remained hidden beneath the dress. Slipping the dress over my head, I brushed my hair and turned towards the full-length mirror adorning the back of my door.

My hand trembled, nearly dropping the brush, as I beheld my reflection. A transformation had occurred—I appeared different, almost ethereal. Beauty radiated from within, enhanced by the white gown that complemented my striking, emerald eyes and the delicate pink flush adorning my cheeks in the cool morning air. As my eyes involuntarily flicked to the clock above the mirror, I leaped in surprise, realising that it was already six o'clock. When I rose earlier, it had only been five, and time had slipped away from me while lost in the shower's embrace.

Opening my bedroom door, I descended the stairs with ease, avoiding the creaking floorboards. Grabbing an apron from a hook on the kitchen door, I draped it over my head, fastening the strings securely around my waist. After placing five slices of bread into the toaster and filling a pot with water to set it boiling, I ventured outside to ignite the fire in the dining room fireplace, eager to infuse warmth into the morning. Returning to the kitchen, I immersed five eggs into the pot of simmering water. Knowing that Mother would punish me for daring to eat without permission, I refrained from preparing anything for my own breakfast.