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Anna sees a very different side of Erica.

Sara found herself rising in a stupor and moving to her childhood bedroom. She closed the door behind her, wanting some privacy with this thing that had been hidden. Perhaps it would answer the million questions that her father's suicide and mother and sister's disappearance had left. It seemed to tremble in her hands as she settled onto her bed with a slight rustle and squeak. She felt dizzy, woozy even as her fingers slowly pulled the pin free.

Taking a deep breath she slipped a well manicured nail into the lip of the box and tried to pry it open. Instead the nail snapped and the lid staid shut. It did not seem like it would hold that well; but she gave it another try with the metal pin. Begrudgingly the tiny box separated from its cap and revealed its secrets.

Inside the box were a stack of Polaroid pictures.

The first one brought a flood of happiness and relief to the young woman. It was a picture of her at her first varsity cheer practice in high school. She remembered when her father had taken it. She had been so proud to have made the team, and so embarrassed by her father showing up early to snap pictures with his extremely dated camera. The next photo was one of her as she prepared to leave for her junior homecoming.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she thumbed through this catalog of her youth. It answered no questions but confirmed her belief in her father's innocence of any wrongdoing. Each picture contained a precious memory of her youth of her growing up, of her ascension to adulthood. Her browsing would stop on the picture of her at the engagement party only a year ago. Sara saw herself with a huge smile, her left hand upraised for a crowd of female relatives, displaying a huge ring.

Her indicative bride "costume" seemed to light up the faded colors of the picture. Her sister's Gothic witch costumed was a black and bleak contrast to hers. It was the one thing that spoiled the photo for her. Her sister stared back up into the camera, her eyes squinted in anger and her posture tensed and stiff. Sara didn't remember her being angry, but the picture could not lie. The Anna in the picture was furious. Her eyes could not part with the piercing gaze of her sister as she slowly lowered the picture to the ground.

The next photo would seal the uneasy feeling that had been born from its predecessor. It was an image, a portrait, of her sister in the den. It was not so much the who and the where, but what she was wearing. It was Sara's bridal gown costume. The white of the gown glowed beneath the harsh flash of the primitive camera. Her sister was leaning over the desk, her head and shoulders tossed back and an obviously sensual look on her face.

Sara tossed it aside quickly, only to discover that the next photograph and the one after it were no better. Slowly Sara watched in horror as her younger sister stripped from the gown. Beneath it, the same white corset and lingerie she had purchased for the occasion was fitted tightly to her sister's petite form. It had always been impossible to tell the difference between the two and only the three year separation in age had allowed for any type of guesswork.

Sara would have almost thought it was her captured in the picture, breasts up thrust and legs parted wide in front of the window. In each picture her sister's eyes stared out at her, conveying so many emotions and desires.

The next photo showed Anna running her hands over her body, her eyes shut and lips pursed. The next was of one hand slipping between the corset and the lip of her panties. Progressively each photo became more and more lewd, until Anna masturbated furiously atop their father's desk. Sara threw them each aside with increasing terror and speed, her mind wishing it could abandon the race to the end of the story but her curiosity getting the better of her.
Suddenly the long distance shots disappeared and her sister was close up, her full lips open and tongue curled.

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