One Year Ago...
"Millieee..."
The call rang through the near empty house with an eerie air. It was followed by the sound of metal scraping across tile and a haunting, girlish giggle that echoed off of the walls and down the corridors. Millicent Rubera limped through the dark hallway as fast as she could, terrified. The electricity in the Rubera house had been knocked out by the storm that raged on in Gotham that night, or so Millicent had thought. She had lost her glasses some time ago; that, mixed with the dark, did not help Millicent at all.
"Millieee..." called the voice again; it was closer now.
Millicent ducked quietly into a room she knew to be her father's office. She made her way behind the chestnut desk and wedged herself into the space under the desk that was usually reserved for the leather chair. And she waited. And she prayed.
Back out in the hallway stood what — no, who — Millicent was so afraid of. Margaret Rubera stood completely still, observing the hallway with her near cat-like vision; unlike her sister, Margaret could see quite well.
Thunder boomed so loudly that it rattled the windows; lightning lit up the hallway for a split second, washing over Margaret's form, making the seventeen-year-old look even more menacing than she already was. Her white gown was stained red with blood, her hair was disheveled, and she drug an axe behind her. However, the most disturbing thing about her appearance was the complete sense of calm she had about her. The corners of her lips twitched up into a smile when she saw the dark drops of blood on the white, tile floor.
"You know, Millie," Margaret started, making her way slowly down the hall, "I'm really relieved that your little tumble down the stairs didn't kill you; truly, I am."
Margaret stopped in front of the first door she came to, and without hesitation, she hoisted the axe's blade into it.
"Because I am really looking forward to killing you myself," Margaret added with a small, devilish grin as she wedged the axe out of the door.
She continued down the hall and quickly slammed the axe into the next door she came across. She pulled the axe out of the now splintered wood.
"I mean, it was so much fun the first time. Poor, little Mattie didn't understand why I was doing it. Oh, Millie, you should've seen the look on her face; you should've heard her begging for her life. It was just so... Help me out here, Mills; I can't seem to find the word, and you've always been oh so good with them. Then again, you and Mattie were good at lots of things, like being conniving little bitches."
Margaret slammed the axe into a third door as she spoke the last word, her voice dripping with venom. She pulled the axe out of the door and moved forward. Finally, she stopped in front of the fourth door. It was ajar. Margaret pushed it open further with the butt end of the axe.
"Knock, knock. Anybody home?"
Millicent stayed as quiet as possible when she heard her sister's voice inside the room. She hardly dared to even breathe.
"Oh, I do love a good game of Hide-and-Seek, Millie," Margaret said, looking behind the door. "But let's not forget...that's one of the things I was so much better at."
Margaret made her way over to her father's desk. Walking around to the back of it, she smiled. Pulling the leather chair away, she revealed Millicent's hiding place. Margaret tutted as Millicent cowered away from her.
"Oh, Millie, how disappointing; how...typical. You always did pick the most obvious hiding spots. I guess some things never change," Margaret said.
"Please, Maggie," Millicent whimpered. "Please, don't do this."
Margaret's expression quickly changed. She pushed her brows together and dropped her grin. She rested on her haunches in front of her sister.
"Millie, Millie, Millie, such a beautiful face," Margaret said, reaching out to stroke her sister's cheek, but Millicent flinched away from her touch. This didn't seem to faze Margaret; she just continued with her monologue. "After all, I should know, since we have the same one."
"What do you want?" Millicent cried.
"Me?" Margaret said, pretending to ponder the question. "Well, I just want to be free. I want to be my own person. And with you and Mattie around — well — it wouldn't have happened."
Millicent cried even harder at the mention of her other — now dead — sister.
"You can understand that, can't you, Millie?" Margaret said. "You can appreciate that I'm doing this for a good reason."
"You're sick, Maggie," Millicent said.
Margaret slammed the axe's butt against the desk.
"I am so tired of you telling me what I am," Margaret seethed. "'Oh, Maggie, you're so antisocial. Oh, Maggie, you're so weird.'" Margaret said in a mocking voice.
"But what I hated most weren't the 'You-are's' but the 'You-would-be's,'" Margaret confessed. "What was your and Mattie's favorite thing to say to me? 'Maggie, you would be prettier if you smiled.' That was it , wasn't it?"
Margaret seemed to bristle just remembering the words that had so frequently flown from the mouths of her sisters.
"But tell me, Millie, what exactly did I have to smile about? Was I supposed to smile every time someone mistook me for you or Mattie? Was I supposed to smile when even our parents couldn't tell which daughter I was?"
Margaret leaned forward with a menacing look.
"Was I supposed to smile when I walked in on my boyfriend and Mattie all because you and her had a stupid bet that he, too, wouldn't be able to tell the difference?"
Margaret was almost yelling; spit flew from her mouth. She banged the axe against the desk again. Millicent let out another loud cry. This caused Margaret to laugh a bit. She saw Millicent eyeing the axe.
"Oh, don't worry; this isn't for you, Millie," Margaret said, caressing the axe. "No, this was Mattie's. But you," she said, looking back at her sister, "oh, I have something else in store for you."
Margaret lifted up the axe, and with one swift movement, she rammed the butt end of it into Millicent's face, knocking her out cold.
Margaret gave a tiny smile, and a small laugh escaped her. She finally discarded the axe. She unceremoniously pulled her sister's limp body out from under the desk and rolled her onto her back. Margaret hiked up her gown before straddling Millicent's body, pinning Millicent's arms under her knees just in case Millicent should wake up.
Margaret stared at her sister for a moment, cocking her head to the side curiously. Another flash of lightning lit up the room, and Margaret frowned.
"Those are my earrings," she said angrily before ripping the ruby studded earrings from Millicent's earlobes.
Finally, Margaret leaned forward and wrapped her fingers around her sister's neck. Margaret could feel the blood pumping in Millicent's jugular; she could feel Millicent's slow breathing. Margaret was planning on ending that.
Margaret squeezed as hard as she could, smiling the entire time.
She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that; she was in a sort of trance. To Margaret, it felt like an eternity — a blissful eternity. However, the sound of the front door opening shook her out of her reverie.
Her parents weren't supposed to be home for hours. Margaret had had a plan: Get cleaned up, make it look like a robbery gone wrong, and then disappear (and maybe even send a ransom note, if she was feeling spunky enough). She had already paid off a fisherman to get her the hell out of Gotham. She would have just bought a train ticket, but she didn't want to be caught on candid camera at the station. She wanted people to believe that maybe she'd been kidnapped.
"Girls! We're home!"
"Shit," Margaret muttered at the sound of her father's voice.
Margaret jumped off of her sister, content with her handy work.
"Well, it's been fun, Millie. A slight kink in the plan, but hey, at least I'll sleep easy in prison knowing that you and Mattie are gone."
Margaret let out a cackle as though she found this all rather amusing. She hardly registered her mother's scream. And even as her father had his hands around her neck, pinning her against the wall, Margaret's body was still wracking with laughter.
"You gonna kill me, Dad?" she choked out. "In case you didn't know, you're running low on daughters."
After that, she let out another awful laugh. However, it was cut short by a sudden gasp for air. Margaret stared in horror and anger as Millicent awoke. Margaret's right eye twitched.
"No!" Margaret growled, struggling against her father, trying to get to her sister. Millicent couldn't be alive.
