God Help The Outcasts: COMPLETE

Chapter Five: Stepsister

Drizella wished desperately that she’d thought to pack an umbrella; she stumbled through the rain and toward the town bakery, where she hoped to see Anastasia. She’d been walking for hours, avoiding riders and coaches alike for fear her mother was coming for her.
But approaching the little dark shop, she knew she wouldn’t find help here, not today. She clutched her hood under her chin as she passed the doorway-
“Oh!” she cried, for a hand was suddenly clamped over her mouth, and a pair of strong arms pulled her toward the door. “Let me go!” she tried to shriek, but the hand muffled her cry.
“Drizella, it’s me!” Anastasia’s familiar voice hissed close to her ear. She stopped struggling as the door closed; the arms released her, and she turned to find the baker looking sheepishly at the floor.
“Begging your pardon, miss.” He said. Anastasia clutched her hands, eyes wide with fright.
“What are you doing? Riders have passed through here looking for you!”
Drizella didn’t respond, only stared hopelessly at the floor. Anastasia pursed her lips; something was definitely wrong. “Alright, tell me everything.”
As Anastasia led her toward a cozy little kitchen with a merry fire crackling in the hearth, Drizella began to talk, slowly and haltingly to start. But 2 slices of hot bread and three cups of tea later, the whole incident had been revealed. Anastasia grasped her sister’s hands comfortingly as silent tears streamed freely down her face.
“I just don’t want to go back.” She sobbed. “I’m tired of being her plaything.”
Anastasia nodded.
“I know it’s hard. She’s our mother, after all. But we’re here to help you, and Cinderella, too. I’m just so glad you are free from her.” The sisters exchanged watery smiles.
“Don’t be so sure.” The baker’s trembling voice by the window sent a shiver down Drizella’s spine. “She’s here!”
Sure enough, the sounds of horses whinnying and cart wheels turning could be heard through the open window.
Anastasia and Drizella both leapt to their feet.
“Quick! You can hide in my wardrobe!” Anastasia pushed her sister into her room, flinging a finger towards the corner, where a small wardrobe stood open. “Keep all your things with you-”
“My cloak!” Drizella cried. “It’s in the kitchen!” But a sharp rapping at the front door made them both freeze.
Anastasia bit her lip with indecision.
“I’ll take care of it. Now go!” Drizella obeyed as Anastasia sprinted from the room. It occurred to her, however briefly, that this was the second time she’d been forced into hiding, and in a wardrobe-
“Mother!” Anastasia greeted just as Drizella closed the wardrobe door. “What a pleasant surprise-”
“Spare me.” The cutting, all-too-familiar voice of the Lady Tremaine made Drizella cringe. The sound of heels clicking on the wooden floor echoed loudly in the quiet little house. “I know she came here, and I want to know where she is.”
“Whomever are you talking about?” Anastasia asked innocently. Drizella cheered her sister on silently; she sounded so brave.
“Don’t play dumb with me, girl.” Her mother snapped impatiently. “Your sister’s gone missing.”
“Oh, my goodness!” Anastasia gasped. Drizella heard the floorboards creak as her sister moved, presumably closer to their mother. “Oh, I hope the poor dear’s alright, what with all this rain. Here, Mother, come sit down-”
“Don’t touch me!” her mother cried. Drizella held her breath in the tense silence that followed. No one moved for what seemed like hours, but finally Anastasia spoke, voice full of unshed tears.
“I was just trying to help-”
“You are a traitor, a liar, and nothing more!” Drizella was shocked by how calmly her mother made these accusations. “You’re no better than that fool who calls herself the Princess. And now that Drizella has betrayed me, she is the same!”
Another silence filled the little house.
“Then why are you searching for her?” Anastasia asked coolly. “If she’s a traitor like me, why don’t you just let her go?”
A startled, pained cry preceded a heavy thud; Drizella assumed Anastasia had been slapped and had to force herself to stay in the closet. If she revealed herself, everything Anastasia had done would be for naught.
She heard the sharp click of her mother’s heels in the kitchen and the baker consoling Anastasia, who was softly sobbing. Drizella dug her nails into her palms and slowed her breathing.
Steady, girl.
“What’s this?” The sound of cloth slipping over wood was like a death toll; Drizella knew she’d found the cloak.
“It’s mine!” Anastasia asserted.
“And why wouldn’t it be?” The sudden honey in her mother’s voice gave away her suspicions. “Though it is quite damp. You haven’t been outside recently, have you?”
There was a sound of shuffling feet; Anastasia was getting up.
“Well, yes. Earlier, to…feed the horses.”
There was a silence, and then the slap of cloth hitting the floor.
“I don’t believe you.” More sharp clicks told Drizella that her mother was heading towards Anastasia’s room, and consequently, the wardrobe. “I know she’s here, Anastasia, and if I have to search through every room in this pathetic house-”
The sudden fanfare of trumpets brought the clicks to a halt. Drizella could recognize those trumpets anywhere; she’d been trained to primp on a moment’s notice so she’d be ready when the royal carriage arrived.
The prince, and consequently the princess, had arrived.
“Oh! It’s the prince!” cried Anastasia out of habit.
“And Cinderella!” the baker chimed in. Drizella couldn’t help but smile; for all the time she’d spent hating that blonde, sweet beauty, she’d learned to love the sound of her name, in that one instant.
“Oh, what a pleasant surprise.” Drizella’s smile disappeared abruptly as her mother’s footsteps came nearer, this time quickened in pace. Of course…while Anastasia and the baker were busy attending to the royal couple, her mother would be free to search the house-
She stifled a gasp as the door to Anastasia’s room flew open with a bang.
“Come on out, Drizella, I know you’re in here. There’s no use hiding…I’ll find you sooner or later.” The harshness in her mother’s voice made her hair stand on end, even in the musty, cramped wardrobe. “You’re a real criminal, you know…stealing my gold, running away from home. I could have you arrested.” Her mother’s heels were muffled on the carpeted floor, which made them harder to hear as they drew closer. “You wouldn’t want that, now would you? To force your poor old mother to bring her only remaining daughter to trial…”
Her mother’s voice was close now, too close for comfort. She backed away from the door, holding her breath.
But it was no good. A second later the wardrobe door was open, and her mother was sneering in at her triumphantly.
“Come on, Drizella, we’ve lots of time to make up. We’re already late for the duke’s ball.” She took hold of Drizella’s wrist and tugged her from the wardrobe. “If you’ll come home without a fight, I’ll forget this ever happened-”
“No.” Drizella jerked her hand away, reaching back into the wardrobe for her pack. “I’m not coming home, Mother. I’m not a doll for you to play dress up with.” She glanced over the old woman’s shoulder; Anastasia had just appeared in the doorway, accompanied by the prince himself and Cinderella.
Her mother smiled wickedly and suddenly snatched the pack from Drizella’s hands.
“You’re a thieving liar.” She accused, reaching into the bundle and pulling out her velvet coin pouch. “This is the thanks I get for raising you? For giving you all you ever wanted?” She seemed ready to cry, but Drizella knew it was only a show. “I can’t believe this.”
“Is this true?” The prince stepped forward, eyeing Drizella suspiciously. “You know, stealing is a crime-”
“I…somehow doubt this is the whole story, dear.” Cinderella said softly, placing a slender hand on the prince’s shoulder. She glanced meaningfully at Drizella, and then fixed her stepmother with a piercing blue gaze. “Let’s hear Drizella’s side before we go jumping to conclusions.”
“Very well.” The prince nodded once at Drizella, who began to tremble.
“Well, you see…your Highness…I did run away. And I did take her gold.” The prince opened his mouth to speak, but Cinderella quieted him with a touch.
“Please, continue.”
“But I was tired of being used by her. To her,” she pointed accusingly at her mother, “I’m no more valuable than that sack of gold in her hands. And Cinderella and Anastasia both can attest to this.” She fell to her knees, no longer able to stand. “Please, Your Highness, grant me permission to leave her custody. I will return her gold, and everything that belongs to her. Please…” By this point she could barely speak for the sobs choking her. “Just don’t make me go back.”


AlyCatAuthor