“Mommy, can you read me a bedtime story?”
No.

“Of course sweetie, which one would you like?”
Please not again.

“The one with the sleeping princess.”
Make her stop.

“Once upon a time…”

Once upon a time…she made him a promise. A promise of a lifetime, a promise that she vowed to keep for all eternity. If only this lifetime, this eternity, this forever that she lived, would simply end.

No, they would not be together forever and they would not have the happiest family in the world, if they even decided to stay together or have a family at all. They did not know what their childrens’ names were, or whether they would have children. But she did promise that he would get to hold her hand the next time they took a walk, that she would put her head on his shoulder to make him feel manly, and that maybe, just maybe if he was charming enough, she would reward him with a kiss on the cheek at the end of the day. But the end of the day never came and 100 years later, she still waited for that day to begin so the end could come.

‘Why?’, she wanted to scream, as she continued to lay on what she could only assume was her ancient bed, with her porcelain face eternally turned toward the heavens. No matter how much she asked and no matter how much her heart ached, her eyes remained closed. She would never in this lifetime set eyes upon the one who had placed her into such misery. ‘If this was a trick, when will the gods stop laughing?’ She had lain here so long that she frequently forgot how she had gotten there in the first place. But they would never let her forget as long as her story remained in print, and remained in the hands of this wretched little girl.

“And then what happened mommy?”

Then she had pricked her finger on the spindle, eaten the poisonous apple, whatever. She was cursed by the evil fairy, the wicked witch, the villainous queen, whoever. She was the helpless beautiful princess awaiting her knight in shining armor. Helpless princess she was, but she awaited no knight in shining armor. All she asked for was to be able to open her eyes to him.

“Did the prince kiss her??”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

Of course, Prince Charming comes to save the day, being the gallant blond-haired, blue-eyed or brown-haired, hazel-eyed beauty that he was. For 100-years she waited for this day, and for 100-years she dreaded this kiss. The kiss that was never meant for him and never will be. She always opened her eyes and feigned a smile that she never wanted to offer, wishing the whole time that she would just drown in those deep whatever-colored-eyes of his. She did not understand why it was the Prince each time. How did he know? Who had told him? This promise was not for him to take.

“…and they lived happily-ever-after.”
Never.

She felt a very familiar tug at her heart as her body was thrown back onto the bed and her eyes forced shut once more, for the next 100-years. Or for as long as the book remained closed and sandwiched on the bookshelf.