The Three

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Marigold

I never really liked my name.

My parents thought it was a good idea to name me Marigold because I had golden-blonde locks when I was a newborn, which eventually turned into a really light brown color as soon as I turned five.

And it didn’t really help when the kids in kindergarten would call me “Fake Goldilocks” or “Barbie Gone Wrong”. When did six-year-olds get so creative with names?

The same thing happened to my older sister. Mom thought her eyes were a beautiful shade of grey and dad went on with it. Her eyes aren’t even grey.

Mom is colorblind.

But my parents are like that. Insanity runs in the family. It practically gallops.

My sister has always been an honor roll student. She always competed in the swim team. She was always at the top of her class.

She would always come home with some sort of trophy and mom and dad would be overjoyed every single time. You might say: why aren’t you proud of her, too? Well, I am. I always congratulate her.

But she always makes me feel so small and useless.

And I can’t say I hate Grey, but I’ve always been jealous of her. She was always the smarter sister. The prettier sister. The more talented sister.

And I was...

Nothing.

She and I were really close, though. But we had our share of fights when we were kids. And when she moved away as soon as she graduated high school, I shook her hand at the airport before she left.

Speaking of her, it’s her wedding today, and I’m dreading it.

That’s why we were here, my mom and I, wandering through Central City, looking for a decent dress shop.

Everything I heard about Central City was good. It’s a very peaceful city. It has one of the tallest skyscrapers in the world. Plants and trees and flowers are everywhere. It is truly beautiful. Almost too perfect. Everyone is so nice and phony with each other. But I’ve always had a weird feeling whenever I step foot in this city.

I’ve always felt like something is hidden. It’s almost as if there’s this mask covering every awful thing and showered it with perfection and beauty. This mask covered everything.

Except him.

Except for the person known for his cold-hearted, impossibly genius crimes and murders. Except for the person that lives in the shadows. Except for the person who knows no mercy.

No one knew what his intentions were. People called him Satan. He is the greatest evil there ever is. He is the only threat to this city.

Despicable.

I look up at the clear sky.

And god helps anyone whoever stands against him.

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