He pushed me. I wasn’t even surprised as the wind whisted through my hair. He always told me it would be an honour to die by his hand. I knew he would be the one to kill me. Since I was old enough to understand who he was, who I was, I knew my days were numbered. I didn’t even open my mouth to scream. I knew I would be splattered on the ground in mere seconds. In my mind, this was the best way to go. I watched him kill my sister, he made me watch. The tears had stung  my face as I watched her sob on the stone floor of the throne room, bleeding out from the stab wound in her chest. Forty minutes. She was in agony for forty minutes while my father smiled and held his sword stained with her blood. He made me clean it afterwards. I saw the leaves of a tree, its trunk, I closed my eyes so hard tears leaked down my face. Happily ever after, very funny.