The lost fairy tales

"As I go outside, I take a deep breath of fresh, cool air. It's been a while since I last went outside. Winter's nearing, I think. Because that's where the elders can see you.    The tiny voice in my head whispers to me. Just another reason I know I'm going to die soon. The voices. The voices are always whispering. Always observing. They take every little thing wrong and multiply it until I can't see anything but that. My insecurities. My failures. My weaknesses. They've all been multiplied, thanks to the voices. I ignore them most of the time. Sometimes though, they're all I can hear.    I take another deep breath and start walking. The walking helps sometimes. Nobody knows about me. About my life or the nightmares. Even so, every day I go outside I can still feel strangers' eyes on me. I know they don't know but the voices tell me they must know, somehow." What happens when stories go wrong? What happens behind closed doors that aren't recorded in the storybooks? What happens when the villain wins? Lost is what happens. A lost fairy tale.