Charlotte hated life.

More specifically, she hated her life.

If one wished to delve even deeper into the mystery that surrounded Charlotte’s life, one could say she hated her stepmother even more than her life.

After such a depth, the details become hazy, and one finds it difficult to gain any information at all.

But needless to say, Charlotte was not the world’s happiest girl.

Once upon a time, in a land not quite so far away as one might think, Charlotte had been an innocent child. Carefree, loved, happy, and simply gorgeous, many thought her to be one of the most beautiful young girls in the kingdom.

Well, they had until the fire.

Charlotte had barely survived. If her next door neighbor had not conveniently known of the herbal arts, Charlotte would have suffered the same fate as her mother.

Luckily for Charlotte, she wasn’t being buried alongside her maman.

But the tears that drooped along her cheek that day stung more in spirit than in pain as they fell from her freshly disfigured face.