Let me tell you a story. It's just your average fairy tale.
Bailey Ross sat at her computer, rubbing her eyes. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. She sighed and sat back in her chair. Looking at the clock, she shook her head. It was almost midnight.
"I'm never going to get this thing done tonight," she said, dejectedly.
She closed the computer lid and turned off the desk light. She sat in the darkness for a moment before standing up. She was a tall, slender woman. Young in the face, but the heart that beat inside, felt lifetimes old. She sighed as she left her small office room and walked down the short hallway of her tiny apartment to her bathroom. Staring at herself in the mirror, she grimaced. She didn't like the way she looked. Her eyes were too small, her nose was too perky and her lips too thin. She sighed again before brushing her teeth. She pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail on the back of her head before shrugging.
"This is as good as it's going to get," she muttered.
She left the bathroom, stepped into her bedroom and changed into her pajamas. Curling into bed, she gave one last sigh, before drifting off to sleep. Sleep was the one place that gave her solace. In her dreams, she could be anyone. Her favorites were when she was surrounded by people she loved, and who loved her. She had no family. Her parents were killed in a fire two years ago. She was an only child, as were both her parents. Her work schedule at the law firm, where she was a secretary, kept her social life to a bare minimum, if that. Her high school friends have all gotten married and started families. She was alone. And she didn't mind it when she was busy. But at times when all she had was her own thoughts, she hated it.
Dreaming was her one escape. Not always a good one, however. She would often times dream about her own demise. And for some reason, she would wake up, with a sense of disappointment. She wasn't suicidal. But she often wondered, death would be better than the utter loneliness. While she slept, the moon shone through her window, bathing her sleeping form in white light.
She started snoring lightly as she dreamed of a tall muscular man with a puckered pink scar running from his left ear to his mouth. He smiled at her and held out his hand. Her heart fluttered as she reached out hers to take it. Right before her hand found his, he turned swiftly, as if called, and ran away from her.