Guenevere was furious, stomping around the room raving and ranting. How did this happen? Why hadn’t she seen it coming? She was green with envy. Her twin sister Julia always ended up with the man. This time she was marrying him, the man, the one and only, the one she’d dreamed of daily for over a year and a half.
It was Julia he preferred and it was she that had made the move, daring to approach him and introduce herself. Even then he’d had eyes for Julia now that she thought about it. How she hated him! Her sister’s betrayal was stark in her mind. Fired her anger and it raged out of control. They’d pay!
Julia was softer, gentler, calmer. Brilliant in word and deed gracious in all things. While her sister was brash, often cruel, a wall a mile high around her. On occasion, Julia managed to break it down and get inside to the real sister the one she loved wholeheartedly.
Her love for Dom knew no bounds. It had been effortless, freeing, empowering, special. She recalled their meeting as if it were yesterday. He’d bypassed her vivacious bold attention getting twin, the one everyone flocked to, instead stared endlessly at her until he’d made his way to her side and introduced himself.
Immediately she’d been lost, or found. They’d become inseparable, spending hours wandering town looking at art, graffiti, attending art shows, galleries, spending every waking moment together.
On this their wedding day, filled with hope, happiness, joy and excitement, her heart was filled to overflowing with emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, their intensity so great.
The one sad moment that hurt beyond measure was her sister’s absence. She was to have been her bridesmaid but clearly that was an impossibility.
Cards were piled on the entry table and as she was about to walk out the door on her father’s arm, a note was delivered.
She wasn’t sure why she stopped to open it, but she did. Inside, four words, “Murderer! You shall pay!” Dropping the note, shocked as she recognized her sister’s handwriting she stumbled and raced down the steps into her car. There was no standing against what Guenevere would do, was capable of. To protect her love, she fled.