My Short Stories

Overshadowed

If people understood, maybe they'd see me differently. Maybe, if only they'd understood, I wouldn't be who I am today.
I was just an innocent child, fascinated by the concept of morals.
Just a child, wondering why everyone kept saying that everyone's equal.
Wondering why people were saying that everyone deserves to live.
They were saying that because they don't know.
They don't know what it feels like to be filled with a burning hatred so intense, it's the only thing that gives you strength; the only thing that gives you life.
If only they'd known what that feels like, maybe it would have been different.
Maybe they would have understood.
Who was she? She was incredible - yes, I remember that.
I was so proud she was my older sister. She was always coming home, beaming with happiness, weighted down with rewards. When she stood up, she towered over me, casting down a shadow that crawled inside my bones. Skittering around, like spiders eating my sanity.
It hurt.
It hurt that everyone was always talking about her, and never about me.
You can't blame me for being jealous. Anyone would have been. No-one would have been able to cope.
Not even you. You like to think you would've coped, that you would've done it differently.
But that's OK. You don't understand. No-one ever has, and no-one ever will.
I was only jealous.
Just a child, jealous that she was better than me, jealous that I was overlooked.
But I've been punished enough.
Because I can't forget it.
Blood falling in droplets to the floor.
I wanted to be the better child.
Her eyes, empty and soulless, still staring at me.
I wanted to be the child everyone would talk about.
I just wanted to do something surprising. Something that would get me noticed. I've done that. No-one will shut up about me now.
Everyone would talk about me, but no-one would talk to me. They treat me like I'm some kind of monster.
So now I'm like her,
Empty.
Cold.
Betrayed.
Dead.