Disclaimer: I don't own fairytales.

Chapter 1

Look. Right from the start, I want to get this clear. I don't want you to run off with some impression of me that is completely and utterly false. I am not – NOT – in any way pretty. At all. I am what most people would call plain. And that's okay with me.

Now that we've got that sorted out. I should probably introduce myself too. My name is Abigail – Abby. I amseventeen years old, and a complete social moth. As in opposite to a butterfly. You know, one who sits in dark corners? Yeah, that's me.

Formalities done with, I should probably get on with the actual story part of my story. Just bear with me. I've done some things I completely regret now… but some things were beyond my control. Please bear that in mind before you judge me. I just need to tell someone – write all this down – so someone will understand after I'm gone. After I'm gone, you can judge me all you like. I won't be there any longer.

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The library is quiet. I like it that way. Completely engrossed in my book, I slump down in my beanbag. I am not visible from the door.

I hear someone enter. Instinctively I squeeze myself into the corner. Peering between the shelves, I see a young man, about twenty or so, sitting down at a table. What is he doing here? He is athletically built; his golden brown hair is rumpled and tousled. As I watch he bangs his head against the table in complete frustration. I smile and stand up. Frustration is something I can understand.

As I emerge from behind the shelves, the young man jumps. His sea green eyes widen is surprise.

"I'm sorry." He says. "I wasn't aware that anyone was there." I make no noise, but instead slip into a chair next to him.

"You look frustrated." I smile. "Do you need help?" Forward of me, yes – but there was something about him that made me feel that I could relate to him.

It was foolish of me to trust him.

He looks at me, taking in my unfashionableness, no doubt.

"Sure." He holds out his hand. "My name's Jeremy."

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So there we start. The first mistake I made is in that little section of my life. "…there was something about him that made me feel that I could relate to him." Already I felt that strange connection. The connection that was never really there.

No. I'm deceiving myself. It was there. I felt it. He felt it. But in the end he chose to ignore it.

Why am I crying?

Tears won't wash the dead from the grave.

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Jeremy and I became friends. We never saw each other outside the library, but those library sessions were enough. I knew I was falling for him – yet I never acknowledged it.

What I saw in him was all I needed to know. I liked what I saw there. I saw man leaving his boyhood and beginning to live life the way he knew was best. What he saw in me, I really cannot say. I just know that he saw enough in me, to want to continue our little library sessions.

He wasn't dumb. He just needed that extra focus. And that's what I gave to him. He would talk to me about anything and everything. I knew everything about his life. I knew him even better than I knew myself.

Why did I get so involved in his life? I don't know. All I could see was that I was gradually slipping away from my end of my life spectrum and into his.

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One day, after one afternoon spent in the library, I return home. Pulling out my key I walk in the front door.

"Abigail." My father.

"Dad."

"Where have you been?"

"Oh, so you've suddenly gotten guilty and have decided to do your impression of an over-protective father?" Ouch. His hand lands on my face. I suppose I shouldn't have been so obnoxious. But an afternoon with Jeremy can do that to me. I feel so free that I get reckless.

And then I have to come back to Earth. Fun fun…

"Where have you been?" He asks again through gritted teeth; his hand is still raised. I cower. I am a coward; I know it.

"At the library with Jeremy." I whisper, afraid of his reaction. Slowly he lowers his hand.

"You're spending a lot of time with the boy." He says suspiciously. "And too much time in that library."

"I like the library." I say defensively. "And I like Jeremy."

Again, my cheek burns red-hot. He lowers his hand again.

"I forbid you to see him again. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you." But I won't necessarily comply.

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I don't comply. How can I? Jeremy is all the stability I have ever known. He has taught me so much, and I'm so grateful to him.

So the next morning as usual, I go to the library.

A/N: You guys try guess which fairytale this is based on? Me like reviews please?