A warm home. A happy family. As a mother, that was all I ever wanted. Nothing mattered more to me than seeing my daughters smile.
Anastasia and Drizella deserved happiness. I would never allow anyone to steal their smiles and laughter. Not even Ella, even if she was my own stepdaughter.
If you were in my position, Inspector, what would you have done?
Punish Ella more harshly?
Order her to stop lying?
Confiscate the photos and lock her in her room again?
Deny her dinner?
I don't know, Inspector. Everything I did for Ella felt pointless. Useless
I couldn't take it anymore. After what happened to Anastasia and Drizella that night, my mind was no longer clear.
The cold night air brushed against my skin. But when I saw Ella sitting alone beneath the staircase, my chest burned. Tight. Suffocating.
Memories flooded my mind. Anastasia, nearly taking her own life. Drizella, standing in a soaked, dirty dress. That unpleasant conversation with the female teacher.
Every lie Ella had ever told echoed inside my head. Buzzing. Relentless.
With anger-filled steps, I approached her. The sound of my high heels echoed through the empty space, faster and faster, mirroring the frantic pounding of my heart.
The deserted back lobby of the school. The spiral staircase.
Ella. Alone. Her eyes showed not a trace of guilt.
I didn't know what Ella was doing there. She sat with her legs stretched out, right on the lowest step, having taken off her glass shoes. Her hands moved around her ankles, as if massaging them. For some reason, the dress she wore was slightly dirty.
"Tired from dancing?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
She gave a crooked smile.
"None of your business," she replied.
She put her glass shoes back on, stood up, and walked past me as if I were a complete stranger. As if she had never known me at all.
"Drizella was bullied again tonight," I said from behind her. "Do you really not care about her?"
Without turning around, Ella shook her head. "No," she said flatly. "I don't care."
"And Anastasia?"
"I don't care about that crybaby either."
"They're your sisters," I said. Even if only stepsisters, bound by no blood. "Anastasia and Drizella have always thought of you as family."
"Stupid." Ella laughed softly. "They're not my sisters. And you're not my mother either. You're just strangers who barged into my house and claimed to be my family. So tell me, who lied first?"
I shook my head. "We are your family, Ella."
Your new family.
"Fake family." In the silence of that room, Ella chuckled. "A fake mother. Fake sisters. Do you really think I want to live in a family like that?"
What was wrong?
I didn't understand.
What was wrong with any of it?
My dream family. The warm family I longed for.
"I hate you, Lady Tremaine. You. Anastasia. Drizella." She turned toward me. At that moment, the clock tower rang. Midnight. "I hate your stupid family."
Stupid family?
Stupid family?!
What was stupid about it?
My family, even without a father, was a happy one.
I was a caring mother. Anastasia, cheerful and full of dreams. Drizella, a big eater with a big heart. There was nothing wrong with my family. Nothing.
Stupid family, she said?
Ella was the stupid one. She wasted my kindness. She rejected the family I built. Ella. A foolish girl who couldn't even let go of her parents' deaths.
A girl like that had no right to mock my family.
Unable to hold back any longer, my fingers wrapped around Ella's neck.
I felt the coldness of her skin. The pulse beneath it. Her labored breathing. The sound that couldn't escape her throat. I felt everything in my grasp.
All the emotions I had buried for so long surged forward as I pressed her body down. Pressed. Choked.
The spoiled girl who cared only about herself fought back. She clawed at my arms. Kicked wildly. She screamed, her breath and voice strangled. Weak screams. No one would hear them.
Midnight, a time that marked both an ending and a beginning. By then, Ella lay limp on the floor. Her glass shoes bathed in moonlight, shimmering on her feet.
***
That is my confession, Inspector. I admit to everything.
You found blood and skin under Ella's fingernails, didn't you?
That was my blood. She got it when she scratched my arms. If you still doubt me, look at this. My arm. You can see the scratch marks, right?
Do you still doubt it now?
Believe me. It was me.
The one who killed Ella is me. Not Anastasia. Not Drizella.
So please… release my daughters. They are innocent.
***