Not Her Happily Ever After

The sun hung low in the sky signaling the close to another beautiful summer day. The day had been a humid one but perfect nonetheless. The smell of cut grass still clung thick in the air, from several of the homes nearby, tinged with a hint of backyard bonfires. Saturdays in August were very seldom lazy. Families trying to squeeze out every drop of summer before frost settled over the city once more.

"Higher!" A gleeful girl exclaimed from the toddler swing. The rocking motion causing the entire set to sway. Blonde curls danced around the small oval face, tousled from an afternoon of play. A chocolate coated smile, from a pre dinner treat, peeked out from behind the wind blown locks. Her small lips turned up in a grin between giggles of delight. In the girl's pudgy hand, she clasped the leg of a well-loved stuffed elephant.

A carefree woman, with bright eyes, pushed the little girl just a tad harder, joining in with the laughter as the toddler squealed. Her tanktop a second skin as it clung to her body damp with sweat. The woman's face beamed with the pride of a mother. And the joy of watching her daughter indulge in the fresh summer air.

Darcy craned her neck towards the ceiling attempting to envision the feel of the setting sun against her now ashen face. Her sock-clad feet searched the cool cement floor  as if somewhere between the four walls she occupied a patch of freshly cut grass could be found. The memories of their last day together, while still so vivid all these years later, could do little more than provide her brief escapes from the suffocating loneliness her life had become.

 Darcy let the memory fade, guilt rising like bile, bitter against the back of her throat. She knew that she had no right to use the precious memory of her family as mental antiseptic, soothing the ache of consequence from her maddening actions. Actions that even years later eluded her otherwise remarkable memory recall. A dead, dark void much like the remains of her heart. 

The scent of barbeque, tangy and sweet, coated the early evening breeze. Lazily, the woman and her daughter lay in the grass. The distant chatter of family, drown out by their own giggles. The late sun warmed their skin, the occasional breeze a welcomed reprieve from the humid day. The pair gazed up at the wisps of clouds through the lens of sunglasses. The little girl waved her hands up towards the sky and pointed out various misshapen cloud animals and giggled as the shapes changed with the passing breeze. The woman's smile was relaxed and she fought to keep her eyes open, her happiness almost palpable. The grass beside the woman rustled and she turned onto her side to watch a blur of blonde curls dart off towards the nearby swing set. The cherub faced toddler gave a toothy grin as she tumbled down the plastic slide, her backside landing with a plop in the dirt.

The deep baritone of her husband Andrew's laugh echoed across the lawn. Darcy met his eyes and couldn't help but giggle as their little raven haired boy drooled cheese puffs down the front of his onesie, his other fist clutched tightly to the collar of his father's shirt. . The tot stared intently, an old soul, as the chicken was flipped and sizzled on the grill. Family gathered closely nearby, enjoying one another's company and Darcy couldn't fathom a better end to summer's day. 

Steam, thick and fragrant, drifted away from the plate before her. Darcy's stomach gurgled in anticipation. It had been far too long since the last time she had been allowed to select a meal for herself. And when the opportunity presented itself, there was little hesitation in her choice. Her families last meal would become her own. Tears stung at her eyes, threatening to spill down her face. Darcy took a steadying breath, finding what courage she could muster. Her last hours would not be spent focused on her misfortune. She did not deserve to have any outlet for the emotional turmoil she felt. 

Waves of nausea lapped at her insides as she picked at the skin on her grilled chicken breast. The serving tray of dinner signifying time slipping away better than a clock ever could. It wouldn't be long now.

"One more momma?"

A soft pleading voice from beneath the Elsa covers of her new big girl bed. Thin tufts of blonde hair curled against the barely visible forehead illuminated by the dim nightlight. The woman knew that if she allowed the young girl to call the shots she would forever be reading fairytales but her daughter's love for reading warmed her heart.

"Just one more." The woman's voice was soft and melodic with just a touch of humor.

Settling back against the headboard, the woman reopened the fairytale collection novel they had begun a few days prior. As she began the child's eyes fluttered and closed, her breathing becoming as rhythmic as the words on the well worn pages.

The woman shifted her weight slowly, careful not to disturb her and laid the gentlest of kisses against her brow. The woman relished in her daughter's lavender scented skin and underneath, the unmistakable smell of home.

Andrew's silhouette appeared in the doorway, the expanse of his shoulders blocking out most of the warm light from the hall. His dark eyes full of heat and promise. She wrapped herself up in the warmth he offered as he led them towards the master bedrooms, his traveling hands making his intentions well known. 

Darcy's heart thrummed quickly in her chest. Each beat blended together like the wings of a trapped bird trying to locate an escape. In a way she felt trapped herself, shackled by her mistakes, but there would be no escape for her. The parade of uniforms, dotted with those donning white, surrounded Darcy's lithe frame. Metal clanked and scraped against the concrete as they urged her forward. She let the hands against her arms lead her as she shut her eyes, desperately searching for the missing section of time that would make everything align. 

She could remember every touch that Andrew and her had shared that evening and the steady rhythm of his heart as she fell asleep against his chest. Darcy could remember the horrors of waking up to her husband's still and silent form beside her. The feel of his cool,congealed blood saturating the sheets beneath them. She could distinctly remember the panic and agony as she discovered the lifeless bodies of her beautiful children. The kitchen knife tucked snugly in the bed with her daughter. But no matter what she tried she could not remember anything in between. She had been convicted, sentenced, and soon to be executed for a crime she held no recollection for, a motive she couldn't fathom. 

The bright lights temporarily blinded her as she was ushered inside the sterile room. The pace, that had been agonizingly slow for the past several years moved forward at an alarming pace. Before Darcy's eyes had a chance to adjust she found herself strapped to a narrow gurney, IVs coiling down both of her trembling arms. 

Darcy spared a glance through the windows leading to the witness gallery. Tear stained and sobbing faces greet her as she scans the crowd, her eyes landing on a face identical to her own. Her twin sister Delilah stared back at her. A blank face in an emotionally charged crowd, a face she had not seen since her incarceration. Darcy surmised that her sister's presence implied her hatred for her twin, not that she could blame her. Staring into hate written in her own face seemed to be no less than what she deserved. 

Darcy declined her chance for a final statement, eyes still locked on the stoic face, barely registering the silent nod given to staff to proceed. As the medicine flows into her veins she watches in horror as Delilah lifts her thumb to her chin, resting her forefinger against the curled lips of a smirk. Imitating a long lost language between the pair. A gesture that made it clear to Darcy that her twin was hiding a menacing secret. 

"Oh god, no." Darcy chants softly to herself, the warmth of unconsciousness wrapping itself around her, slowly pulling her under. Her eyes flutter shut as the last puzzle piece falls into place. 

*********

Delilah exhales slowly, letting out a breath she did not realize she was holding as her sister takes her last. Relief floods her veins with such vigor she felt giddy. No more would she have to worry about new evidence or appeals. The wait was over and she would go unpunished for her crimes. In the beginning she almost felt guilty for pinning the murders on her sister. After all it was Andrew's fault for overlooking her and choosing the wrong twin. He was supposed to be hers. She couldn't let him get away with living a life that mirrored what hers could have been. Forced to watch him love another from the sidelines.

Witnessing Andrew's love for her sister and the pride written all over her parent's face at what Darcy had accomplished was too much. Delilah had to do whatever it took. Darcy couldn't keep her happily ever after.