It was a peaceful morning in the Pataki household. An angelic voice was letting words gracefully dance on the glistening lips of the girl who was considered perfection. She held her hands together as if she were deep in prayer and her smile let the adorable dimples in her cheeks become more defined. Her eyes would leap from one direction to another as the level of her anxiety increased rapidly. She had been reciting the poetry of Emily Dickinson for a couple of hours, at the request of her father. The sound of her voice was greeted with applause and whistling, which made her ears want to burn. For a moment she had seen her sibling pass by, giving her a deep glare of disgust. A look she would come to find common when she returned to school each day.

The girl was used to all sorts of attention. Her parents would often give her looks of pride, as did her teachers. She would come to find most adults would become pleased when she was present. Her actions would always recieve compliments and praise. She didn't really understand why at first, because she would just act polite and do the things she believed she was good at. Recently however, she had not wanted to participate in such activities. She began to get more than just attention for her deeds. Awards, trophies, certificates, ribbons, and all sorts of goodies from adults who believed she was God's gift to the Earth. Those adults, including her parents and teachers, took notice and began to exploit her gifts. Now she just wanted to be what they wished she wasn't.

After this all began, other children began to act differently around the girl. Their personalities would show their worst sides and negativity was all she would see. Their feelings grew to hate and anger. They would torment the girl as if she were a monster. She never understood why. So despite how she felt about the adults, she would begin to do good deeds even more than before, in hopes it would please them. The girl could never comprehend what they really wanted of her. Her life began to spiral downward. All she had left was to keep pushing forward, without looking back.

She would never see her sister as often as she saw others. Only once every morning as she would leave for school. By the time her sister came home, the girl would be out for activities her parents signed her up for. Her sister would lock herself into her room and wouldn't come out until the next morning. The girl hardly even noticed her existence. All she knew was that her sister hated her more than anyone else ever could. More than her parents level of pride and more than any anger her classmate's minds held within.

The girl began to take more interest in her sister. Why did it seem she was invisible to everyone else? Why didn't her parents give her as much attention? What created the hatred her eyes wielded like a blade? The more she thought about it, the more her curioisity grew. The girl's thoughts became consumed with her sister's image. She would try to see her sister more often. She would try and make it home more quickly, before her sister could make it to her room. She would smile and wave at her. Her sister didn't appreciate the acts of friendliness. Her glares grew more piercing. At first they only made her curiosity stronger, but it was begining to eat away at the girl. The girl could not understand what she was doing wrong. So like what she had done with her classmates before, she would continue with her sisters. Her visits to her sister would be longer, her smiles wider, and her waves more inviting. She would leave small gifts for her sister. She would bake cookies for her and would leave them at her door, with letters expressing love and hope for peace between them. Her sister would take the cookies, but would leave the letters of love the girl wrote in the trash.

The girl's heart was breaking slowly. Shattering into itty, bitty pieces that no one could pick up. Not her parents, not her teachers, not her classmates. No one except her sister. She no longer cared about pleasing her classmates, but she still would act polite to each of them. She was getting used to the attention of her parents, even though it still annoyed her a teensy bit. She didn't care for any questions teachers would have for the class, but she would still answer any she could. They didn't matter as much to her now that her sister was all that was on her mind. Though she still participated in the world she lived in, just so that she could be the good person she hoped would please her sister.

When the girl was begining to give up on any acts of kindess, she finally decided to speak to her sister. The girl walked up to her sister's room and knocked the door. There was no answer. She put her ear to the door and listened for any sounds her sister could be making. She heard nothing. She nervously looked all around her, then back to the door. She gazed at the door knob and gulped. Her sister wouldn't like to find her in her room. Though the girl's interest outshined her fears. She quietly turned the doorknob, opened the door, and tiptoed inside.

The girl called her sister's name, but there was no response. She looked to the hallway for a moment, then shook her head. She glanced from side to side, scanning the room. It was kept pretty clean, to her suprise. She thought most children her sister's age would leave their room a constant mess. And her parents always ignored her sister, so there was no one to nag her to keep it this way. It left the girl a little envious of her sister's solitude, but cast the thoughts aside as she continued to look around.

Everything in the room was bright and colorful. She recognized some of her old items that were made hand-me-downs for her sister. She looked at the bed. The blankets were a bright pink and there was a single doll lying beside a fluffy pillow. Then she looked at the counter next to the bed. Her eyes widened. She had discovered a tiny book. Like the room, it was bright colored. It had beautiful floral patterns that only made it more tempting to pick it up. She reached for it, then drew her hand back. She repeated the act several times before becoming angry with herself. She sighed a little and whispered something sweet to calm herself. But it couldn't stop the guilt that came every moment her hand got closer to the book. Finally, her hand managed to defeat her mind and she grabbed the book as quickly as she could.

She softly opened it, making sure there was no sound to be heard. Her fingers turned the pages, as her eyes met the secrets the book had to hold. Her sister's handwriting was pretty sloppy, but it was understandable, considering her age. The wisps of her hair brushed against her cheeks as she tilted her head downward. The writing was surprisingly good. Her sister's use of words was much better than her own. There were words in the book she couldn't even pronounce correctly. Every word and every page made her smile stretch and her amazement grow. She couldn't believe how talented her sister was. She found herself begining to read it all out loud. She started giggling and laughing. She knew her sister was something special, but this was just making her love for her grow larger. If her parents had her reciting this poetry then she might not even mind all the attention they gave her.

Suddenly, she felt a stabbing pain in her ankle. She dropped the book and let her hands glide down to comfort the pain. She sobbed a little and felt tears form from her eyes. She saw a trinkle of blood drip down to the floor. She sat down and rocked herself back and forth. Once the pain fled, she began to look around to stop the blood from falling. When she looked up, she saw her sister, giving her a nastier stare then she has ever given her before. Her face grew red and her eyebrows grew closer, making her expression show how guilty she felt at that very moment. Seeing her sister look at her that way made her heart stop. Her sister looked so much bigger when she was sitting down. Though, she was still wondering how someone so small could have hurt her so much. Maybe she was just too sensitive.

Her sister let out a deep sigh. Her hands were planted on her hips, with her elbows pointed outward. For someone so young, she looked rather intimidating. The girl inched back, away from her. And with each movement away, her sister took one step closer. The girl looked into her sister's eyes, finding many emotions all mixing in one deep pool of hatred.

"Helga...I..." The girl could not find the proper words to say. Her voice was kept quiet, making her hard to understand.

"So, you think everything in here is a joke?" Her sister's voice had a bit of a lisp to it. It did not suit her agressive appearance.

"No...I...I meant...I didn't mean to--"

"SHUT UP!"

"Listen, Helga...I really didn't mean to--"

"Just get out of here." Her sister pointed to the exit. Her face was a deep red and her lower lip started to quiver.

"Helga, please..."

Her sister wouldn't respond. She wouldn't lift her head, no matter how many times the girl repeated her name. The girl slowly got up, and started to make her way out the door. As she stood in the doorway, she looked back at her sister one more time. The person who seemed so scary only a few moments ago morphed into a helpless, lonely, crying child. The girl turned back. Once she closed the door behind her, she crouched down to the floor. Her head met her knees and the tears found their way back to her eyes.

The girl's father came up the stairs, with a skip in his stride. He was humming an optimistic tune and a smile was spread across his face. Knowing him, something good must have happened at his job. If it wasn't for all the attention he gave her, work would probably be his entire life. As he noticed the girl crying, his smile vanished in an instant.

"Olga, what's the matter?" His voice was hard, almost angry.

"Nothing daddy..." The girl tried to sound as sweet as she could, but her father was unconvinced. He held out his hand, not bothering to question her. She smiled in gratitude and placed her hand gently in his. She hugged him tightly and they both made their way downstairs. Back into their happy, little world.

The girl peeked through the door. She grunted, and slammed it shut. She opened her bright colored book, and began writing.