Three guards strut into the room.

My other sister stands in front of me – hiding my mangled feet. I lean against the table for support.

"You know why we're here."

"Yes."

"Are there any other girls in the household."

"No."

One of the men pulls out a glass slipper. He puts it disinterestedly on the floor.

"You first."

My other sister tries to slide her foot inside. It doesn't fit.

The guard yawns.

"Now you."

My other sister slides the glass shoe towards me. The men are looking at their clipboards.

Eyes watering with pain I push my foot into the shoe. I grimace. I want to scream.

I swallow it.

I take a deep breath. 

She squeezes my hand.

Then I step forward, glass slippers on each foot.

"I am the girl you're looking for."