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This is not why the Fairy Godmother granted Cinderella's wishes

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She could feel the itch, beginning to burn under her skin again. It had only been a month this time--before that, she had let it go too long, and a month ago she had a bit of an accident. She knew she couldn't let that happen this time.

She considered her options. Opium--she'd been out since she had to flee after the incident before last, and hadn't found another supplier. Alcohol--that was what had led to the last accident. Marijuana--might work, but it was weak enough that she'd have to keep it burning all the damn time.

No, she'd have to let it out. Directed this time.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and felt around for the nearest wish. When she opened her eyes, there in front of her was a little girl, probably no more than 15, with dirty hands and a tearstained face. "Little girl," she said gently, and the girl looked up with awe in her eyes. "I am your fairy godmother, and I am here to grant your wish--" and then it was ripping through her, tearing through her skin, burning off every shred of sanity. She clung to the wish with everything she could muster--thank all the beings it was a strong one--and hoped the girl couldn't hear her screaming.