A Role to Play

The ugly girl hadn’t been fed in three days.

When she finally heard footsteps, the girl lifted her head, attempting to comb back the filthy hair that stuck to her damp cheeks. She had been lying in a fetal position for thirty minutes, her limbs tangled, her breathing shallow, wondering if food would appear again. It usually did, at least before she starved to death, but the girl was always lingering at the precipice, her arms cradling her emaciated belly as she wheezed, hoping the air would expand her deflated skin.

The door quickly opened, and a hand laid out three pieces of bread, almost-moldy cheese, and a glass of water. Quick as it opened, the door swung shut with a sharp crack. The girl knew better than to reach out and cry for the hand that belonged to her mother. When she had first been confined here, she pleaded and cried, but her mother would slap her away, leaving her small body tumbling to the other side. Now she was older, and she feared her mother more than she used to desire her touch.

Her hands trembled from disuse as she picked up the bread and watched it tumble from the grimy plate to the equally soiled floor. Still, she mustered the remaining strength in her fingers and picked it up again, cramming the food in a manner most unbecoming of a young lady.

The worst of her hunger now momentarily sated, the girl stared down at the locket that hung from her thin neck and gently pried the pendant open. On one side, “Ella” was etched with looping, elegant cursive. No one called her that anymore, and her voice had splintered so often from crying bouts that she could barely speak those two syllables. On the other side, a photo of a young girl with a pair of crooked front teeth, freckles speckled all over her face, and mousy brown hair smiled back at her.

The metal had been biting into the nape of her neck for quite some time. Ella fumbled with the necklace, but her clumsy fingers struggled to find the flimsy silver clasp. In her haste, she yanked the chain down, and it snapped, sending the pendant skittering across the dank floor.

The pendant was now resting against the foot of a large mirror. Ella crawled, dragging her limp leg forward as she reached towards the fallen necklace. Her grubby fingers closed around the metal, and when she lifted her head, she saw her reflection.

The sight was horrific. She had been scratching furiously at the side of her face, and a wave of red blisters had swept over her cheek, leaking blood and pus from the ruined skin. Yellowed enamel peeked behind her cracked lips, and her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Her hair was a matted mess, dandruff dotted over the thin, wispy strands.

Ella quickly averted her gaze, and her eyes fell to the base of the mirror, where an inscription was carved into the metal. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, it read. Show me what I desire most of all.

The girl scanned the words, and an unfamiliar burst of joy surfaced in her stomach. This was an enchanted mirror. When she was above, not below, she was told stories about enchanted objects just like these, and her father had promised to gift her a magical songbird for her eighth birthday. She was eight-ish now, and that promise had vaporized. But this. This was much better than a vapid, twittering animal that sang her children's lullabies.

Ella tested her voice slowly, releasing minor inflections with sporadic breaths, before she was able to hesitantly mouth the words with her lips. Now the little girl was ready. She recited the words and watched the mirror fulfill its end of the promise.

Immediately, the mirror began to cloud, mercifully eclipsing her terrible reflection. Amorphous shapes solidified into the figures of her parents, her mother lounging in a chaise, cradling an unidentified bundle, while her father sat across, stroking his beard. Ella saw her mother’s hand, stroking that bundle with the love that was once hers. Her father laughed heartily as they both conversed. Ella placed both her hands on the mirror, yearning for their warmth. She wished to hear what they were saying and if it was about her. The mirror took heed.

“She’s lovely,” her mother commented. The bundle was a baby with golden curls that babbled contentedly. Ella’s mother laughed with delight and rocked the bundle while her father gravitated towards the baby, leaning over the chaise.

“She is,” her father agreed. “The Brothers Grimm will be impressed.”

Hot tears spilled out of Ella’s eyes as she witnessed her parents fawn over her little sister. That was what they had called Ella. When she was above, the maids braided her hair with pink ribbons and her parents fed her as many macaroons as she pleased. Ella was supposed to be their little princess.

Her father watched Ella’s mother nurse the baby, and then interrupted. “You fed that child today?”

“I did,” her mother replied, her lips tightening.

“The maids didn’t see you?”

“I had them all upstairs.”

“Good,” Ella’s father nodded. “That child should be kept alive. It’s quite hideous, but next to our baby Ella, she would appear lovelier in contrast.”

No, I’m Ella. She wanted to scream, but her vocal cords couldn’t summon the strength. You called me Ella. You told me you loved me. Father, I was your little songbird. Mother, I was your darling angel.

“Horrid looking, wasn’t she, Richard?” Ella’s mother murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead. “That large, pointed nose! And her crooked, ungainly teeth! It was only out of delusion that we embraced her, thinking she might blossom into a beauty.”

“Yes, it was a ridiculous hope,” Ella’s father agreed. “It was the right decision to abandon that child before we had our second option.”

He chuckled as he allowed the baby girl to wrap her fat fingers around his pointer. “I have no doubt our darling songbird Ella is a princess in the making.”

“They have a new one drafted, don’t they?” Ella’s mother appraised the baby. “The Grimms are calling it Cinderella. I saw the mail yesterday, they’re looking for a beautiful little girl to become the princess of the story.”

“And a beautiful little girl they will have!” Ella’s father exclaimed. “Though I admit, a little younger than we had initially planned.” His face darkened. “If that child had been less unseemly…”

“The men prefer younger girls, darling,” Ella’s mother reassured. “It’ll work. We will succeed. The Grimms simply must notice our potential, how destined it is for our family to be in one of their legendary storybooks.”

“Remembered in history,” Ella’s father rubbed his mustache. “I like the sound of that.”

The figures dissipated from the mirror and left Ella staring back at her hideous reflection. She crawled back to her usual corner and resumed her original position, her tears leaking from her eyes. Despite this, she still clutched the pendant close to her heart, and when she fell asleep, she dreamed of the time when her mother and father would hold her as she did.

Yet, Ella’s wish to be above was answered after thirty moons. She was now ten-ish, and she could scarcely believe her eyes when her mother opened the basement door, carried her starved body upstairs, and laid her in a warm bath. She opened her eyes, meeting the beautiful blue irises of her mother. Her mother’s hand moved to caress her cheek, but Ella flinched away, fearing the sharp crack of pain that always would follow.

It didn’t. Her mother’s soft palm cradled her skin. She spoke to Ella slowly as she began lathering her hair, easing away the dirt, lice, and dandruff that had clung to her neglected locks. Her mother washed her body with such gentleness it summoned tears into Ella’s eyes. How she missed this. The result of being loved.

She was fed everything she requested, given a plush, fluffy bed, and bathed daily. When the bony shape of Ella’s arms finally softened beneath returning flesh, her mother guided Ella to a large, ornately decorated mirror.

It reflected her poor posture and the simple yellow dress that clashed horribly with her dull pallor. Though Ella did appear less like a sewer rat, she was still terribly ugly. At ten-ish, her skin was lumpy and uneven, and the scabs from her own fingernails were still peeling away.

Her mother encouraged Ella to read the inscription at the bottom. “Aloud,” she added.

Ella swallowed, testing the unfamiliar weight of her unused voice. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Show me what I desire most of all.”

The mirror’s surface began to pensively cloud over. When the glass cleared, it revealed a proper young lady with a sweet smile, blue eyes the color of a cloudless summer sky, and most importantly, golden curls spun out of sunlight. Ella fixed her eyes on the mirror and watched breathlessly as the little girl was embraced by her parents, pranced in pink silk, and when she grew older and taller and lovelier, a prince knelt before her and kissed her perfect, dainty hand.

Her mother placed her hands on Ella’s shoulders. “That can come true, darling,” she promised, cupping her ugly daughter’s face. “But, you must listen to what I say.. Can you promise?”

Ella nodded.

“Well, your father and I need you to pretend. A little game of pretending. Can you do that for us?”

“Good girl. Now, listen carefully. Your name is no longer Ella. It is now Anastasia. What do you think of that, Anastasia?”

Anastasia — not Ella — nodded again, masking her confusion. As her mother said, Anastasia was a good girl. She would obey.

“Good. Anastasia, you have two sisters. Drizella and Ella.” Her mother spoke very slowly, as if she believed the girl was stupid. “This is very important to mother and father that you do this. You must, you simply must, make Ella’s life miserable.”

“Miserable?” Anastasia echoed unsurely.

“Yes,” her mother confirmed. “You are the ugly stepsister. Do you understand your role?”

Ugly. When Anastasia glanced back at the mirror. It reflected only her face now. She agreed.

“Good. Now, you’ll stay in the room upstairs next to Drizella’s. Ella will take your place. Isn’t that much better?”

Anastasia clutched her yellow dress, hands trembling with joy. She no longer had to live there. Ella, the baby that her parents had adored so much, was going in her place. She suppressed the urge to laugh. In the end, Ella lost. Anastasia — not Ella — won.

When Anastasia was directed upstairs, she found a girl she had never seen before. Her mother introduced her as Drizella, her new stepsister. Drizella was equally ugly, if not more so, than Anastasia. Her buck teeth peeked out from between her large, fish-like lips. Her dull skin was sprayed with freckles.

“You two are now sisters, do you understand?” Her mother explained gently. “I am your mother, and Ella is your stepsister. You are to call her Cinderella. As I explained to Anastasia, I want you to…?” She lingered on the sentence, her eyebrows raised.

“To make her life miserable,” Anastasia echoed.

Her mother smiled in approval.

“Exactly.”

And so, the Grimms began writing the tale of Cinderella.

Anastasia fulfilled her role as she promised, serving the role of the malicious bully that tormented Ella’s every waking moment. She spilled the oatmeal that Ella would bring up to her room and crossed her legs in triumph as she watched Ella clean the mess. She would threaten Ella with scissors and shear through Ella’s beautiful golden locks, cackling as Ella sobbed. When she was fifteenish, she tore Ella’s favorite dress and grinned in delight as her mother nodded approvingly at the wreckage. When she was especially violent and would often strike Ella across the face, her mother was even happier, rewarding her with new dresses and a plate of her favorite strawberry macaroons.

Drizella helped. The girl was more dim-witted than Anastasia, and her role was confined to aiding Anastasia in her pursuits. Anastasia never asked her mother where the girl came from, but she suspected that her mother had plucked the girl from the orphanage, looking for the perfect girl to fulfill the needed role, just as her mother had picked her. Anastasia’s feelings for Drizella never came close to love, but she did truly feel camaraderie when Drizella pinned Ella’s delicate arms behind her back while Anastasia poured spoiled milk down her hair.

It became easier to bully Ella as they grew older. Anastasia soon despised everything about Ella. Ella possessed long golden hair that shone with the slightest touch of a brush and curled down her shoulders in perfect waves. When they went into town, all the boys had their eyes glued on her viridian irises and her pink, kissable lips. Even the boy she secretly admired in school confessed to Ella when she came to drop off Anastasia’s forgotten lunch.

When the royal family sent the notice of a ball, Anastasia was elated. This was her chance to best Ella, especially since her mother had forbidden Ella to attend. Her father was also supportive, providing his two darling girls with luxurious, tailor-made dresses. That night, Drizella and Anastasia helped each other lace their corsets, laughing breathlessly as the wiring rearranged their organs.

After finally arriving at the palace in gleaming carriages, Anastasia took in the splendor and wished it were hers. Gliding across the floor, she observed the prince behind her fan, surrounded by a gaggle of women. She confidently stepped forward, though a strange sense of anticipation prickled at her spine and warned her that the night would not unfold as she desired.

The crowd suddenly shifted, parting to reveal a goddess. Whispers about the mystery girl’s origins rippled through the crowd, but Anastasia knew without a doubt who she was. This was Ella, so gorgeous that simply beholding her gaze was spellbinding, a divine being dressed in blue silk.

With twisted masochism, Anastasia’s manure-colored eyes lingered on the couple as they conversed passionately, smiled sweetly at each other, and fell in love. She tried to eat her sorrow away, but the macarons baked by the royal pâtissier tasted like cardboard in her mouth. When Anastasia could stomach the sight no longer, the bell tolled mercifully at midnight, and Ella fled from her lover, abandoning a dainty glass slipper.

The prince immediately set into action, dispatching guards across the country to find his beloved. When the guards darkened their doorstep, Anastasia ordered Drizella to lock Ella’s door.

The parlor was drenched in blood upon the prince’s arrival. Her mother’s lips curled in delight as she observed her two daughters' mutilated feet. Drizella had stopped after only slicing off her big toe, cradling her maimed foot and moaning in agony. Anastasia didn’t, and carved around her flesh until she could cram the injured, bleeding stump into the dainty glass slipper.

Anastasia wiped the salt from her cheeks and triumphantly held the reluctant gaze of the prince. She had gotten her wish. Anastasia’s heart jumped as the prince took her hand, but seconds after, it slipped listlessly from her hold.

Ella stood radiantly at the base of the stairs.

“Wait,” the beautiful girl pleaded. She produced her own glass slipper and slid her delicate foot inside. A perfect fit for a perfect girl.

The prince rejoiced, and the country followed. Anastasia didn’t remember much of what happened after, because the guards had taken Drizella away, kicking and screaming, and then she had fainted. When she came to, Anastasia was nestled in a bed of dead leaves, her blood soaking into the soil below. It was a surprise that she was not dead. Perhaps beautiful, kind Ella had beseeched the prince to spare her vile stepsister’s life, and instead of her ugly head on a stick, she was mercifully exiled to this remote forest.

Anatasia tried to move, but it sent lances of pain up her legs. Childishly, she tried to call for her mother. Of course, no one replied. Now that she fulfilled her purpose, Anastasia was no longer needed as the ugly stepsister. The Grimms had closed the storybook, and just as her mother and father had wished, it would be immutably etched into history, passed down by generations of storytellers.

If they no longer needed her, Anastasia dimly wondered what was left for her to do. She had been a good girl. Perhaps she could crawl back to her mother and ask for forgiveness. She would just rather not be left here. It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark.