Obsessed 18+✔️

One- Crazy? ✔️

A/N

This book will be mainly told from Carrington's perspective, part of which as if she's retelling her story, A lot of this will will be her thoughts/memories at first.

■■■■■■■

I'm not crazy! I'm not! Sure, if you ask the right person, they will tell you differently, but I know the truth.

Most of the shit that has been blamed on me over the years has been all her.

My fucking sister. Jolie.

My perfect, can do no wrong, older sister, Jolie.

Now she is crazy.

The only difference is that she hides it well.

Behind all of the makeup, the long hair, and the cute clothes, she is far crazier than I will ever be.

It has been this way our entire lives.

And it is time that she be exposed for the fake bitch she is.

■■■■

"Carrie! Get your ass down here!" Mom screams at me up the staircase.

"What?" I ask, stepping out into the hallway.

It's a bit too early to be on one of her 'let's bitch at Carrington' rants, but...

"I would like you to explain this..." She yells, dangling her new dress off her finger, or at least what was left of it.

She had just purchased it, made an entire ordeal of bringing it in, showing it off, and telling us how she had gotten 'such an amazing deal!'.

"It looks like someone put your dress through the shredder." I answer, looking at the tattered scraps of pale blue fabric that once were her 'perfect' dress and wondering exactly what the hell I am supposed to do about it.

"That's exactly what happened! I come home and find Jolie trying to pull my brand new dress from the garbage disposal."

Sounds about right.

Whenever mom was busy modeling modeling it for dad, showing him how perfectly it accentuated her aging curves, Jolie leaned over and made one of her snide comments about how 'horrid' mother looked in it.

"And what does that have to do with me exactly?" I ask, already seeing where this is going.

"You tell me!  Jolie says that she found you stuffing it in there." She says it with an accusatory tone.

I look over her shoulder and see Jolie standing with her arms folded across her chest, that hopeful smile spreading across her face as the sound of our mother's voice increases.

"Of course she did." I glare at her.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself, young lady?" She asks angry, her face a deep shade of red that matches her blouse.

"Nothing." I scoff.

What the fuck am I supposed to say? Sorry?
Sorry, my sister is an absolute wretched, conniving bitch?

Yeah, that would go over really well.

 She pushes her shoulders back and her chest forward, like she is amazed at my audacity. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Nothing."

"You're grounded for a month! No phone, no outtings, no dessert!"

"But-" I start to protest, but quickly change my mind. It's pointless, completely pointless; even if I told her the truth, that I had spent all morning upstairs in my room, purposefully avoiding Jolie, and reminded her that Jolie was the only one who knew where she was keeping her special dress, it would do no good. My mother would never believe that her perfect daughter would have done such a thing.