*Aura*

I was four years old when I asked the infamous question. It was on my birthday, I remember. Mom and I were tucked in the couch’s pull out mattress and she was reading me a story. After the story was over she placed the book down and hugged me tightly.

“Mommy” I remember myself asking. “Why don’t I have a daddy like the people in the story?”

 I scared my mother with that question. I had never asked it before; she hoped I never would. I would’ve had to eventually, starting school I would’ve wondered, other kids would’ve asked.

“He” Her voice broke when she answered. “Doesn’t know about you yet”. I never asked about what happened after that. I was too afraid to scare my mother again.

My mother continued to read me stories as I grew older, but I never asked questions afterwards. Her stories all had the same stupid theme; Fairy tale romance and Happily Ever After.  If she looked in her own life there was no such thing.

It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that I am fifteen and my mother’s thirty.  I do not want to know about who my dad is, because he sounds like a complete jerk.  I’ve met lots of complete jerks. Five in fact. My Mother's ex boyfriends.

Mom has this strange idea that she’ll have a fairy tale romance waiting for her. That one day her knight in shining armor will rescue her from this disastrous life we share. I don’t understand why she daydreams about itat all.

That is only one of many reasons why I despise fairytales.