Grizella crouched behind the thick bushes, her heart pounding against her ribs as if it sought freedom. The cool evening air whispered through the garden, carrying with it the muffled sobs of Cinderella. Grizella's fingers clenched the coarse fabric of her gown, her knuckles turning white.
From her hiding spot, she could see Cinderella kneeling by the well, clutching the tattered remnants of what had once been a beautiful dress. The dim light of the crescent moon glinted off the glittering scraps of fabric that lay scattered around her feet, like shards of a broken dream.
I'm sorry, Grizella thought, guilt twisting her stomach into a painful knot. But she didn't say it aloud. She couldn't. The weight of her actions pressed on her chest like an iron bar. It was her own hands that had helped shred the gown hours earlier, her cruel laughter blending with her sister Anastasia and her mom as they ensured Cinderella wouldn't step foot in the palace tonight.
