was torn, its skirt slashed, and its pearl-covered bodice ripped apart.
My older sister Vanessa stood nearby.
“What have you done?” I whispered.
She glanced at the scissors.
Then smiled.
“Relax, Emily. I was fixing it.”
“Fixing it? You’ve destroyed my wedding dress!”
She crossed her arms.
“Honestly, it looked ridiculous anyway.”
I touched the damaged fabric.
Years of dreams seemed to crumble in my hands.
Then Mother, Patricia, entered.
“What’s all this screaming?”
I gestured toward Vanessa.
“She cut my dress!”
Mom barely examined the damage.
“Vanessa was helping
