Beautiful Sister

She looks as though a great artist had dreamt her. Soft ebony curls gleam in the light, her face is patient, waiting, calm. Her neck and jaw are perfectly formed, like she was designed especially for me. She is so lovely. I have seen many things in my life, all of them twisted, rotten and evil, including, and most especially, my own reflection. I had heard of beauty, but had dismissed as a hopeless fantasy. And yet there it is, standing before me, offering me her throat. Beauty and the Beast. In the fairytale, we would live happily ever after, rid of all those who have harmed us, and I would become like her. But this is no fairytale. There is no cure for what I am, even her love cannot help me now.

And she must die.

I have imagined this moment for years. I have pictured crushing her perfect skull with my teeth, but I have also heard terrified screams and pleading, like that of the coward who lies rotting behind me. She is not supposed to be willing. I have hated her with all my strength- she was his favourite, beautiful and spoilt and kept in the warmth while I was tossed out, nothing more then a failed experiment. She is supposed to hate me back, be disgusted and terrified as I come towards her, but she isn't. She pities me. She wants justice for me. She wants me to win.

She is my sister. My beautiful, beautiful sister.

And I love her.

And now she is mine.