Number 17 on this site. :) I'm not sure how many are in process but... oh well!! Hope you enjoy.

Summery: She always wanted that fairytale ending. Up until she was eight, she thought maybe she'd get it. But when new additions are added to her "family" of two. She decides that fairytale ending… no such thing. MerMark

Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's.

Thinking Back To Worse Times

Ever since I was a little girl, I've dreamed about Prince Charming and a happy ever after. I would dream about it at night. Until I turned eight and all hope for Prince Charming and a fairy tale life died when my mother remarried to Jonathon Montgomery. My step-father pretended to like me until he found out how disinterested in my life my mother was. Then, I became just some kid who lived in his house and passed the mashed potatoes at dinner time whose name half the time he couldn't remember. My "more beautiful" step-sister stole whatever piece of the dimming spotlight I had to my name stealing whatever time my mother ever even thought about giving me. She was the beautiful girl that all through school was the envy of all the girls, and I was the chick with the pink hair. She could have everyone and anyone she wanted. All through school she barely had to lift a finger and yet she had the other students, her teachers, and anyone wrapped around her manicured fingers. While I sat in the back off the class in my own depressed and twisted world. While I worked my ass off for a perfect 4.0 GPA, she was the cheerleading captain. While every guy checked out her chest and fell over themselves to talk to her, I was the short, thin, pink haired girl with a flat chest. My fairytale got even more distant when my mother had our half-sister. The baby of the family. The cute one. The one who sucked me dry of the last ounce of attention that my mother had for me. I didn't hold any grudges against her though. Growing up, she was the person I got along best. While my step-sister and I were having screaming matches that would be ended by my step-father by siding with Addison, Sarah was there to tell me I was right. Though she was eleven years younger than I and at the time would have been only four years old, it felt good for someone to tell me that. She was the one who asked me how my day was while my mother and step-father were busy praising Addison for every move she made. Soon enough, it all started catching up to me and the fantasy of a fairytale turned into the fantasy of being notice. As I got into my upper teens and my sophomore year, I began acting out. Coming home late. Highlighting my already pink hair with green. Making sure that my behavior rebelled so much against what my mother and step-father said that they had no choice but to pay attention until one day my mother walked into my room slapping a plane ticket and a boarding school brochure in front of my face. She hadn't said a word just turned and walked out. I spent that whole night pleading with her not to make me go, but of course she didn't care. Two years later, I graduated over a thousand miles away from my step-sister's school. Nobody bother to come and watch me walk across the stage graduating top of my class. Of course, Sarah called and congratulated me, but no call from my mother. It wasn't until a week later that I got a ten minute phone call inviting me home. With no where to go, I dumbly accepted.