I had everything I ever wanted; money, fame, a large house and most importantly, admirers. My beauty was envied everywhere I went and I breathed their compliments like air. Everywhere I went doors were opened for me and paths were made.

I was happy till she came. A lowly servant, good enough only to clean the floors on which I walked. She was pretty, in a peasant's way, with wavy brown hair and freckles across her tan face. Hazel eyes peeked out from above a nose upturned at the point, giving her a childish look. She was nothing compared to me. Nothing.

Her freckled face was always smiling, her lips upturned despite her lowly status. She was married to a carpenter, a brutish profession, and he came to pick her up when she went home for the weekends. When he saw her his eyes would light up, seeing only her. His arms would wrap around her petite form, as he bent his head to kiss her first on her lips then on her forehead. They would walk away from the house gates hand in hand.

The sight of it made my blood boil and my fists clench till my perfect nails dug into my palms. For the first time in my life I wanted to be someone else. I felt envy.

Men still stared when I walked into a room, but their attention paled in comparison to the light of that girl's love. Slowly that envy spoiled, turning to hate. Why should I want blonde curls when he loved her brown waves? Why admire blue eyes when he loved hazel? I could not live like this. I knew that something had to change, soon.

The night was dark, very little moonlight filtering through the curtains on my bedroom window, lending the room a shadowy feel. She was there, turning down the bed as she did every night. She looked up only as she heard the lock click into place. She gave me a hesitant smile, but her disgusting eyes held confusion. I gave her a sickly sweet smile in return as my fingers tightened their grip on my dagger.

She seemed comforted by my smile, for she turned her back and her coarse hands began their work anew. He held those hands, loved them, as no one loved me. In one movement I stepped behind her and plunged my dagger up to its hilt between her ribs.

The force drove the air from her lungs, leaving no breath for a scream. I ripped the blade from her back, tearing more of her flesh as I went, loosing a torrent of blood, staining my perfect hands.

Crimson blood poured onto the back of her dress and onto the skirt of mine. I spun her around, to see her imperfect face, to watch the life leave her hazel eyes. Her face was white, her eyes wide with shock and pain.

She had breath enough only for one word, the lips which he had so often kissed tinged faintly blue.

"Why?"

My lips pulled into a sneer as I spoke, while I drove the knife into her heart.

"Because you are a servant, and I shouldn't want to be you."



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Well that was pretty dark for me. Maybe I should lay off the TV, its messing with my brain. This short story snuck up on me when I was watching one of my favorite movies. Kudos to anyone who can guess which one it is.

Pretty please review!