My name used to be Annabella. Even though I was named by my mother, she hated the name and called me Bella instead. She later gave me a different name and she used it often. When I was eight, my mother passed away. At that point, my father still called me Annabella. I hated the name and declared that I wouldn't respond to anything but Bella. I also refused to respond to my mother's name for me. From then on my name was Bella.

When I turned ten, my father decided to remarry. I then gained a new stepmother. When my father was around, she pretended to be kind and caring. As soon as he left, she became cruel and vicious. My two stepsisters were the same way. I couldn't bring myself to tell my father about how they treated me. After my mother had died, my father stoped smiling. When my stepfamily was around, he would smile. I couldn't bring myself to tell him about how they treated me, because I didn't want him to lose his smile again.

When I turned eleven, my father died and I lost my chance to tell him about my stepfamily. I don't regret it. When he died, he was happy. That was all I had wanted. The only thing I regretted was that he died away from home and I had been unable to be with him. After my stepmother learned of his death, she kicked my out of my room and moved me into an attic where every corner of the room held stacks of boxes. She didn't stop there. She sold all my possessions, made me dress in rags, and began to treat me like a servant. The one thing that made me truly sad was that she banned me from ever speaking to any of my friends again. I hadn't even been able to say goodbye.

When I turned twelve, I realized that my stepmother had isolated me from the world and that she treated me like dirt, but I couldn't bring myself to hate her. I did fear her, but I couldn't hate her. Whenever I thought of my stepmother, I felt no hatred. I did feel pity. Pity for her because something happened to turn her into the cruel person she had become. So I couldn't hate her, but I could pity her.

Now I am eighteen. Most girls my age were already married. I was still trapped inside a home that I wanted to leave. I had nothing, even my name was no longer my own. Instead of being Bella, I was called Cinderella. I am eighteen and my journey is just beginning.

Hey. If you're actually reading this and you aren't then I'm pretty surprised. I hope you liked the prologue. Also if you're looking for a non cliche or out of the box Cinderella story, then this isn't for you. I hope you read it anyways since some parts won't be cliche. Please comment and vote. That's all for now. I don't have an update schedule right now, but if people actaully read this I'll work on it. Thanks!

P.S. Pandas are the best!