Sister. Sister.

 When did it start?  It started the moment I entered this world.  I guess it was inevitable.  One of our lives was bound to end tragically after years of competition.  Well I guess it is not really a competition if the same person always comes in second.  She always was, not only my mother's, but everyone else's favorite as well.  

  My sister has always been the one to receive what ever her stubborn heart desires.  As children, when it came to school grades, hers were never an issue.  It was inescapable that the dilemma of boyfriends would be in her favor as well.  So if your question is how did tonight approach?  It started years ago, but it escalated rather quickly since the "incident" with my boyfriend Mason.

  About seven and a half months we had been together.  Mason and I were moving our relationship forward.  That is, until we came across a complication.  And that complication's name was Gwen.  Unfortunately this six inch heel wearing disruption to my relationship was my sister.  I was never blind.  I could see the slight glances they exchanged.  They quickly escalated to intense stares.  I dismissed these.  Convinced that they were nothing, I evaded these thoughts immediately.  Then the kiss happened.  Three kisses, to be exact.

  From across the hall I witnessed their deceptive lips meet.  In that moment exactly, something in my mind snapped.  Not long after locking eyes with my so called "sister", I ran into the garden of our Miami palace and started to weep.  This was not going to happen to me.  I would not let it.  As Gwen laid her hand upon my shoulder in regret, I felt the rage like a burning fire within me grow.  Suddenly, my grasp around her throat was a sign of danger. My mind wanted to stop, but my hands would not release her.  Then, finally the lack of air overcame her.  She became unconscious. 

  What have I done?  It was too late for me too try and save her.  I must dispose of her body.  There was a train passing not far from our home that night.  Gwen often walked along the train tracks to think at night.  No one would give a second thought to her death taking place near a train.  The plan was set.  

  As my grip started to release around her arms, the strangest sight appeared.  Gwen's chest was moving.  Suddenly as the train approached, her eyes opened.  Her hands clutched my neck.  The words, "I'm sorry." escaped her lips.  The next thing I knew my body was scattered for miles along those Miami tracks.  A seemingly beautiful night, ended in a dreadful murder.  I have no doubt that my sister's heart is in despair.  After all, who will she compete with now?  

Click.

 "Click!  Click"  There I was.  Yet another meaningless photo shoot.  Since age two I have been buried in this illustrious model world against my will.  "Time passes quickly." my mother says.  "I just want as many pictures of you as I could possibly get…and of course the money and fame do not hurt either."  So, left to deal with the temptations of this cruel industry and being an unrealistic paragon for the youth, I strike one lifeless pose after another, just to deposit a large check into my mother's bank account.

  If it is not bad enough that I have to deal with sycophant, fame seeking people all day, now I have to tolerate my mother's dogged, grandiloquent speech.  "Dear, you have only gotten this far in the industry because of me you know?  You really should be more grateful for my management."  Incredible really, even the work that I do is not really my work at all.  Why should I even try? It is never good enough. It is her.  It has always been her.  She is responsible for the slow demise of my rationality.  

  As I tried to push down this nefarious cloud of anger that had risen inside of me, I climbed out of my dark thoughts.  It was to late now.  My grip had released as I backed into our blood colored walls.  There, on my paisley living room carpet, lied my strangled mother.  My mind spun into a panic, and the feeling in my arms was absent.  

  She should have seen this coming.  Her demeaning speech and over controlling spirit had caused me to plummet over the edge of sanity.  How could her life not end in such a germane death? The shock of my actions had worn off by now.  I was back to my normal, listless self.  

  A neighbor had heard my mother's brutal screams at some point in the murder, so the cops did not  take long before arriving at my door.  "Ms. Livingston, you are under arrest." said a local NYPD cop.  "What for officer?" I answered in a sarcastic tone.  "For the murder of your mother, Joan Livingston."  That is when a once benign and praised laugh filled the air.  Now however, this laugh was malicious and came from a mouth that thirsted for blood, and I was proud to call it my own.

  "Click! Click! Turn to the right please." the prison photographer said.  My body shifted to the right.  Then to the left.  Finally I faced forward toward the camera.  A place I had been familiar with my whole life, but I had never felt so at home as I did now.  "Click!"  "Well, look at that.  Finally, a decent picture of myself.  Too bad my mother is not here to see it." I said with a smirk on my face.  Where would my devious life take me now?  Perhaps to my unescapable companion…misery. 

A Fair Death

 Since day one I had been enamored with his eyes that bounce between blue and green, his dirty blonde hair, and the muscles he posses that have the ability to make my knees fail with just the sight of them.  The image of his perfect blush lips was engraved in my mind. Silently I slipped the note into my mother's bag.  I had to lie.  She hadn't heard of this date with Graham yet and she was not going to find out now.  I know just what she would have said.  "Graham could not be good for you.  He is a weakness."  While that might have been true, he was a weakness I was willing to give into.

 I stared into the looking glass with an unsettled stomach, anticipating all that might have happened that tonight.  Something seemed a bit dreary about the air though.  This was nothing for me to be concerned about however,  all that required my attention was looking exquisite.  Graham must be as infatuated with me as I was with him.  Perhaps I should have given more attention to my instinct.  

 My throat decreased the amount of air that was allowed to escape and enter it.  My heart felt constricted as he walked toward me.  My nerves alone could have killed me that night.  The moment I was waiting for all year long was happening.  His perfect blush lips were not just an an image anymore.  They were the only things perceptible by my eyes.  The lights of the fair rides had shimmered as bright as my love for him.  I felt safe. He had a protective deposition about him, like the lions have of their prey.

 As we waited in line, suddenly his hand grabbed my waist and pulled me in close. My heart started to slow.  His perfect blush lips now made me nauseated.  The warmth I felt against his body as his smile went from ear to ear was sickening.  The blood on my hand as I pulled it away from my stomach confirmed my first thought, I was going to die tonight.  The dagger had pierced too far through me for my survival to be an option.  I watched the crowd as no one suspected a thing.  Screaming buried my thoughts, but the sound was unable to escape my lips.  The once romantic lights had now turned to ash.  Graham, the man i thought I knew, the man whose dexterity with a knife could have never been guessed, now looked malicious and distraught.  He pulled away from me and sank into the crowd. What had been done was irrevocable.    

 The noisy location.  The multitude of people.  The dark, and gloomy sky.  All of this in synthesis created the perfect murder.  Panicked, fading voices would be the last thing my ears would perceive.  What would be my last sight?  Graham's beautifully wretched face. As my eyes rolled back, the dirt under a nervous crowds' feet  became my grave.  As for Graham, he would never be caught.  After all, no one knew I would be out with him.