Dedicated to Tina.

My name is Drizella, and I was seventeen years old at the time the following story took place. Now, you know there are two sides to every story. In my case, my stepsister Ella’s side of the story has essentially reached every corner of the globe, been translated into dozens of languages, and been adapted by hundreds of different cultures.
I’m writing this so that the children of the world can understand my stepsister is a liar, a narcissist, and so manipulative that to publicize her story, she had to throw her entire family under the bus and exploit her mother’s death.
I’m here to tell my story; the real story.

I had a challenging upbringing. My mother, god rest her soul, worked so hard to give my sister Anastasia and myself every advantage in life. When our father died of the tuberculosis, mother went into a deep depression. She would not eat, would not sleep, and would not talk. It took such a heavy toll on my younger sister and myself- it felt as though we lost both of our parents at the same time.
But then, something miraculous happened. Our mother met Lord Tremaine. A handsome, young widower, I have never seen the level of chemistry between two people as I saw between him and my mother. They had been through such a similar tragedy- both of their spouses died unexpectedly, leaving them to parent alone. Though I was hesitant at first to accept him into my family, as any child would, it soon became clear that his role in our lives was essential to not only our survival in society, but my mother’s mental health and overall happiness.


I remember when we first arrived at our new home, Lord Tremaine’s manor. My sister Anastasia and I were so nervous to meet our new stepsister, Ella. Our mother had told us of her beauty and her grace, especially her exquisite fashion sense, and explained that she was a year older than I was- we were instantly intimidated, neither of us being particularly beautiful ourselves. Despite my nerves, I was determined that we would be great friends.
When we arrived at the house, Lord Tremaine greeted us kindly, and ushered us in. The beautiful, old manor was adorned with ivy along the outside, with stunning furniture and bright rooms featured indoors.
“Where is Ella?” my mother inquired politely as we sat in the parlor. “I would love for her to meet the girls.” Anastasia glanced at me anxiously, but I gave her a reassuring smile.
Lord Tremaine wrung his hands. “Er, Ella has been, how should I say it odd since I explained our situation to her.”
Confused at this vague, awkward answer, my mother says, “What do you mean, ‘odd’?”
At that moment, a slender girl with beautiful blonde hair descended the grand staircase. I had to physically stop myself from gasping, but my sister was not able to contain hers. The girl was wearing rags, dirty and ripped, with shoes that were barely sewn together.
“Oh.”
Trying to shake off the discomfort of the moment, my mother stood up. “Ella, darling! How have you been?” She stretches out her arms to Ella, who recoils and shudders.
“I must go sweep the chimneys, if that is your wish,” she whimpers, eyes downcast.
Anastasia and I exchange looks.
“Why, of course not, dear,” my mother replies kindly. “Please, sit with us! Meet the girls!” She gestures at Anastasia and myself.
I slap Anastasia’s hand and we spring up to curtsy to our new sister. Ella stares at us, then begins to cry.
Absolutely astonished, my mother, my sister, and I stare at the beautiful girl in rags as she is ushered out of the parlor and up the stairs by a maid.
“I really don’t know what has gotten into her,” Lord Tremaine shakes his head. “Her melodramatic attitude lately has been more than unwelcome. This started just yesterday when she moved her bedroom into the attic, which is ridden with mice. I just don’t understand.”
“I’m sure it’s just an adjustment to the new dynamic of the family,” we assured Lord Tremaine. “It’s nothing to worry about, really!"
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Dedicated to Tina.

My name is Drizella, and I was seventeen years old at the time the following story took place. Now, you know there are two sides to every story. In my case, my stepsister Ella’s side of the story has essentially reached every corner of the globe, been translated into dozens of languages, and been adapted by hundreds of different cultures.
I’m writing this so that the children of the world can understand my stepsister is a liar, a narcissist, and so manipulative that to publicize her story, she had to throw her entire family under the bus and exploit her mother’s death.
I’m here to tell my story; the real story.

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