Her husband's death was just the beginning of the nightmare that became her life.

On the night of the funeral, Lady Tremaine retreated into her chambers early, heartbroken. The mere sight of the lifeless body of the man she loved was too much for her to bear.

She couldn't even begin to fathom how she would be able to raise her three precious daughters. How they would survive without the guiding hand of her beloved husband.

When her tears finally dried out and Lady Tremaine started falling asleep, she was harshly awoken by the cold blade at her throat.

Her bright green eyes flew open in a start, and as her lips started forming words that she was unsure she could pronounce, a silent voice reached her ears. It was so quiet and chilling that it stopped the downpour of the words in their track.

"You scream, and you die. Then I slaughter your precious daughters," the voice hissed.

A feeling of dread consumed Lady Tremaine's soul, rendering her helpless. There was nothing she could do but obey.

"Charlotte, why are you doing this?" Lady Tremaine said as her eyes adjusted, and she recognized her stepdaughter.

"Charlotte is gone. She died with my dear old dad. With him dead, the good little girl you thought you knew is gone, and all that is left is the little old me." Charlotte said.

"Charlotte, dear, I understand that you have suffered a great loss, the greatest loss a girl can suffer in her life. You are still young and unused to pain, but I can assure you that this is not the right way to deal with it." Lady Tremaine shakily said.

She swallowed hard, which led to the knife gently piercing her fair skin, which in turn made a strange fire shine in Charlotte's eyes. There was a grim satisfaction in her piercing blue eyes. The creepy smile which spread the moment she spotted blood only confirmed it.

"Charlotte, dear, what happened to the little birdie?" Lady Tremaine asked the little angel with innocence in her eyes and a smile on her face.

"Little birdie died." Charlotte's singsong voice answered.

"How did the birdie die, my dear?" Lady Tremaine asked as hairs on her arms rose, already knowing the answer.

"I made the little birdie stop," Charlotte said.

"And how did you do that, my precious?" Her father asked, kneeling before his precious angel.

He was unable to see what Lady Tremaine saw. He never could. No matter what horrible act Charlotte committed, all he saw was his precious little angel.

Lady Tremaine wished she could see the same in the beautiful child that stood before her, but she knew better. She has seen what that same child was capable of with her own eyes, but no one believed her. They all thought she said that just because she was the girl's stepmother.

The truth was that she tried her best to see Charlotte as her own daughter. However, the atrocious acts the six-year-old committed were beyond any true acceptance though Lady Tremaine continued to try.

"I held its neck so tight until it stopped singing until its body stopped moving," Charlotte said with the same sweet voice with which she asked for sweets.

For the first time, Lady Tremaine saw the horror in her husband's eyes as the recognition of what his daughter was capable of finally dawned on him.

"Why would you do that to the poor birdie?" he asked.

"It sang better than me. Now I am the best singer around." Charlotte said proudly, beaming with joy.

"That you are, my dear. That you are," he said, ruffling Charlotte's hair with both gentleness and fear.

The clear images of the past burst like a bubble as Charlotte's creepy laughter filled the room.

"You don't know anything, and neither did father. This is my chance to take my life into my own hands, and you will help me do that." Charlotte said.

"From tomorrow, you will start treating me like a servant. You will refer to me as Cinderella. Also, you will do your best to humiliate and disparage me. The same will be done by your precious daughters." Charlotte added.

"I can't do that. I promised your father on his death bed that I would take care of you. I said I would treat you as my child no matter what happened." Lady Tremaine said.

"Well, I guess you have a choice to make. Either you keep a promise given to a corpse or you save your daughters' lives." Charlotte said.

"You wouldn't." Lady Tremaine whispered.

"Oh, yes. Yes, I would. For years I have been slaughtering beings big and small. I've developed quite a taste for it. However, I've never killed a human before. I am sure I would enjoy the amount of blood involved in the process." Charlotte said.

"Alright, Charlotte, I'll do what you said, but please don't hurt my daughters." Lady Tremaine said.

"It's Cinderella now," Charlotte said.

"Yes, I am sorry, Cinderella. However, I don't understand what you hope to achieve by this." Lady Tremaine said.

"You just do what you are told, and I'll satisfy my bloodthirst elsewhere. Fail me, and you shall watch your daughters bleed to death.

"Every night, I will wait for you in the shadows to give you further instructions on how to behave or what to do. Never seek me out on your own or show fear of me outside this bedroom. Understood?" Cinderella asked.

"Yes." Lady Tremaine answered, resigned to her fate, whatever that might be.

Moments later, the knife left her throat, allowing Lady Tremaine to finally breathe properly.

"Sweet dreams!" Cinderella's cheerful voice called from the shadows.

Only when she was sure the girl could no longer hear her did Lady Tremaine fall apart, sobbing in her pillow and wishing her husband was alive.

They both knew that there was something wrong with Charlotte, but neither one of them ever believed that she would be able to go as far as to hurt one of them. They assumed that she held some affection for them.

However, Lady Tremaine learned that wasn't the case. It became clear that something was terribly wrong in Charlotte's mind and that they had to play her games if they wanted to survive.

After all, neither she nor her daughters were strong enough to defend themselves against that kind of madness. There was a certain amount of strength in insanity, cruel power but power nevertheless.