" It was yet another warn night in July, the kind that starlets' die on, if such a comparison can be made. And here again was this street. This street was dark now because it was two in the morning. And here we are, in the midst of another day in July in this town. The shopkeepers would awake soon to wage their daily earnings. But, for the group we are concerned with, they have just retired to their beds and will awake at this hour in the afternoon. It was just another one of those nights for them. One of those nights when every part of their bodies ached with pleasure, it had been. That pleasure either from their excessive drug use or from their experiences of "love."

For the sake of making a bold comparison it is often we will find tortured artists and writers or tortured beings who claim that their therapists are their ashtrays. Therapists, to this people, seem to be able to collect all of their flaws and contain them. Therapists are the ones who seem to be able to calm their anger and strong emotion at its burning part. However, the only ashtray that was available in this town was the ones for their cigarettes. They had so many things eating away at them but they never spoke to anyone of it. And tonight had just been another way of hiding it all. They had all drank, ate and been merry but these parades of fake happiness could only last for so long. And as time had passed, some of them had received minimal care and it had helped quite a bit. However, there wasn't much help for the rest of them.

But, here we are now, in the middle of Suburbia, on this Main St. at two in the morning on this July night. And now, we can see one of those bad kids, the burnouts, stumbling up the street. The stumbling one is a blonde haired boy with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth he looks young, we can clearly see. It is quite obvious that he is very drunk, due to his excessive stumbling. If we were here an hour before we would also be able to recognize him from his drunken antics at the parking lot down the street. However, we were not here an hour ago, so we can only imagine. But now the boy began to turn his pace onto Spring Garden Drive, to avoid police. This wasn't really a wise choice. True, all the rich people did live on Spring Garden Drive but there were two reasons why the cops might be turning onto this street any moment. The first reason lived at the second house on Spring Garden Drive. He was a bad kid, a teenage breaker of the law, if you will. And the simple color of his house, a dark green, tells us his crimes. But he cared not about that. He was more down the street near the second reason, 18 Spring Garden Drive. The boy went up to the door and knocked. The boy heard a scurry and as the door opened he heard a clear and familiar voice shout out something to the extent of ' I'm not driving him.' But, now the door was open all the way and there stood Cinderella.

Cinderella was obviously extremely tired and her breath smelled thickly of wine but she wasn't drunk. She had a cigarette in her right hand even though her boyfriend told her not to smoke because he claimed it ruined her complexion.

"Rell, do you have a light?" the familiar voice asked from within.

" Yea, Tom on the table. "



Ah, yes, Tom was the one who had defied driving the boy before and he was also the one who lived in this house. Tom was the leader. He was also the one who currently needed to most guidance.

"Hey!" Cinderella said to the boy.

The boy nodded and then Cinderella walked over to Tom who had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and gave him a kiss, mumbled something to him and was on her way out. But, as she was about to close the door Tom said something to her.

" Rella, stop smoking it ruins your complexion."

Cinderella sighed and closed the door.

"Rell?" the boy asked.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

She nodded and kept walking to the car until he grabbed her arm, looked her=20= in the eyes and asked again. Cinderella hesitated and then gestured the boy to get into the car, he did. She put the key in the ignition and then she spoke.

"Tom's been so depressed, he won't talk to me at all about how he feels."



"Did he hit you?"

"No."

" He drinks too much, Rell. He is so stupid now. You should just leave him. "

Cinderella contemplated this for a moment. Cinderella and Tom were a famous pair. They had been together for years. But, over the years, things had changed. However, the boy's suggestion seemed entirely too rash. Tom and Cinderella were the ultimate love story. Only death could part them. And with that she started the car.

"Rell?"

"Yea?"

"Do you remember how everything used to be?"

"Oh, yes."

"What happened?"


" We grew up I guess."

The boy nodded and he felt the need to ask yet another question.

"Why did Tom have to change?"

Cinderella sighed.

" He hasn't changed much, only we have."

The boy lit the cigarette he had been fingering at for awhile and began to smoke it with a look of distaste on his face.

"Whatever," he said coldly.

Cinderella wanted to retaliate but she knew she couldn't fight the truth. She knew Tom had changed. It was so obvious he had changed that she could no longer deny it. She knew him more than she knew her own mother and father. And she loved him more than them as well. He had saved her. He had taken her off the street and saved her. But, now, she wasn't quite sure how to save him.

"I worry about you, Rell." The boy confessed.

" Don't worry about me. Worry about Tom, he's the one at stake."

With these weary words, the boy and Cinderella pulled into the parking lot of where the boy lived and he exited the car. But, before he entered his house he turned and said something she would never forget.

"Rell, I hope for the best, always."

She nodded and in her own mind she wished for the same. But, what was the best? She thought about this as she pulled out of the parking lot. She wanted Tom to be happy. She wanted Tom to be Tom again. It was so obvious he was sad but he never talked about it. Its like deep down he knew he was sad but he could never admit it. It was a lie everyone knew the truth to. It was a secret that everyone knew. And it was tear Cinderella already had cried. At that moment, Cinderella's cell phone went off and she sighed because it was Tom. She picked up the phone, not expecting much.

"Rella?" He asked.

"Yes, honey?"

"Would you get me a pack?" He asked his voice low and dreary.

" Yes, what is wrong, Tom?"

All was silent until he spoke again.

"I love you, Rell."

Her heart started to pound in fear and her voice quivered.

"Tom, what's wrong?"

"I love you. I want you to know that. Do you know that Rell?"

She was confused but dismissed it as one of his antics.

"Yes, I know Tom. I'll get you the pack, ok?"

"Ok, bye."

And then he hung up the phone in his room and sat back at his desk. He had been writing a letter and though there was so much running through his head all he could come up was " Goodbye Everyone." He read those words again. 'Goodbye Everyone'? That was really awful, he thought. That was so stupid. What had he been thinking? It was now that he realized that he wouldn't write a note.

Why was he doing this? Why was he going to take his life? Why was he going to hurt Cinderella? Why? Why? Why? He had suffered for so long now. Ever since his childhood he had felt this deep sadness. He had had good times, he had had bad times and then he had had these nights when he loved being alive. This vibration ran through their veins on those nights and it had struck life in them. But everything was dying now.

He had realized something about his life. He had realized that he didn't have one. This life wasn't going anywhere. What would he be? A professional drinker? A professional lover? A professional mechanical assistant? He would spend all the money on liquor and then he would live off of his parents. He wanted to be a star in some way. He wanted to be something. He wanted to be with Cinderella all his life, but he had to provide for her. But, somehow, he couldn't. Where was she? Oh, yes, he had wanted her gone. He remembered that she had wanted to talk to him before. Oh, and now she brings this joke of alcohol intervention, he cruelly thought. He wasn't going to let her talk to him and make him feel bad. He was going to do this now and get it over with.

He saw the gun on the dresser and stared it down. Could he do this? How could he hurt her in this way? He doubted she even cared anymore. Why would she care? She had plenty of friends, was beautiful and smart. Why would she care about him? Besides, what had been wrong with her lately? So touchy and irritated she had been. She had always been acting so strangely. He had a feeling she was hiding something from him.

Then it hit him, she was cheating on him. How could he let this get by him? He wanted to throw her out, he wanted to disgrace her as the whore she was. But, mostly, he wanted to kill himself. The suspicion raced through him. He didn't want to live to hear her explain herself. No explanation could heal his broken heart. All the time he had wasted on her, all the love he had given her, what of it? She was really the only thing he ever had. She was the one and only thing he truly loved. And he knew it was love because if it wasn't it wouldn't hurt his bad.

We, as observers, still have no real idea of what she had done. True, we do not really know much about Cinderella. But, we can be sure, she had not cheated on Tom. Cinderella would never cheat on Tom, we can be assured of this. However, Tom was not assured and this is why his heart was breaking. We should also note how Tom never stopped to consider any details he just simply made blind assumptions. Now, we can conclude that blind assumptions are very dangerous.

He expected that memories of his life would come to him now, but, he had none. All he could think about was the situation at hand. But, time was running out and she would be home soon. He couldn't live to see her return. He wanted to cry but he didn't know how too. The clock was ticking in his head.

He realized now he had no time and he shot himself in the chest. Just as the bullet entered his chest and his body hit the ground Cinderella walked into the room with his cigarettes in her hand. A look of horror inhabited her face. She ripped off her over shirt to try and bandage his wound. And by some miracle, he was still alive.

"Tom, why?" she said in disbelief, not yet able to cry.

Then he opened his mouth in deep pain and said " So you can be with your other love."

Cinderella was shocked and confused. "Other love? Tom, I'm pregnant."

"What?" he asked rolling around in pain and his blood staining the floor.

" I am pregnant and you are the father."

What had he done? He couldn't believe it. She would have to raise his child alone.

"Why Tom? Why? Why didn't you let me help you?"

"I hated to see you cry, Rell."

And with that Tom's life ended. For hours and hours, the pregnant Cinderella laid in her lovers' deluge of blood. And then she took her own life early the next morning with the same gun.

Reactions to their death were all very different. Some hoped they were together now others hoped they were in hell. But, their hopes didn't change anything. Some blamed her. Others blamed him. But, their blame didn't change anything either.

But, if there is anywhere they can be together lets for this moment hope they are. True love never really dies and that is what this was. Not even death can part Tom and Cinderella now."