A/N: I'm not really sure where this came from. It just happened while I was typing away. I'm not sure if it's any good or if you'd be able to understand it (but I really hope you do! ). Tell me what you think! Reviews…Comments…Suggestions…Flames… I'll acknowledge it!
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Summary: There are two sides in every story. This one is of Cinderella's step-sister's POV. Slightly OC (Oh all right maybe she really is out-of-character in this story!). Please don't forget to leave me a review! Thanks!
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Disclaimer: Cinderella is owned by Disney and so are all the other characters I mentioned. This was made purely for entertainment purposes. I'm not making any money out of it 'coz if I was I'm not going to be posting it on this site! ;p
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There are two sides in every story, they say. I guess this is mine…
Second best, that was what I always was—a wallflower.
All my life I grew up second best. I was always the second most beautiful, second most talented, second most intelligent. How about that huh? A wallflower and a second best! Must be record breaking for every girl to have what I have; in other words, I'm just not good enough.
You might be wondering how I came to have these record breaking awards in life, well; better start now or we'll never be finished. But I'm warning you, this might get boring.
Growing up, I was never the best. All of those traits just weren't 'au natural' with me, not like my sister, as my mother doesn't fail to remind me everyday. She was always the one who got the best of everything; she's just born that way! She's much prettier than me, smarter than me, she's little miss perfect in every way.
I remember when I was a child, I'd always come running to my father whenever my sister (and mother, for that fact) got to me. With my father I was always the best; he would never seize to encourage me and let me go on. I guess that's why when he died I was devastated, I wandered for weeks and felt like I couldn't go on anymore. It's as if in his death he took a part of him with me—the brave part, the part that would always go on even if life wasn't perfect and peachy like the life that my sister lived.
I thought all hope was lost, well, that is until my mother decided to marry again. the thought of having a father who will care for me again gave me hope; hope that somehow, somewhere I'd feel loved and accepted again—and I was, even for just a while. The day we met our new father was the week before he and my mother were married. He stayed with us for that week and being in his care was pure bliss but the instant we moved to his house the attention I got from him was taken away from me again. It turns out he has a daughter who was in me and my sister's age as well.
The happiness I felt the week before evaporated in an instant when I met her, my new step-sister for I knew I could never compete with her. She was beautiful and smart and talented and sweet, she was my father's favorite; as was my sister my mother's most preferred. Once again, I was left only but the second best. Don't get me wrong, my father did care for me because between his time away from home and the time he spent with his daughter, he still found time for me even for just those small talks and short walks around the garden was enough for me.
And then one day, fate had caught up with me again; for my father had been taken away just like my real father was once been taken. I mourned but somehow the pain I felt was not as much as the first time. I'm not sure if my mother even mourned the death of my second father, for she did not waste time in making my step-sister's life a living hell and the worst part of it was I was made to be part of it. I felt bad for her but I did not think twice of disobeying my mother. Why? Well, because I thought that by doing what she wanted would make her want me more than just the second best daughter that I have been my whole life.
Now however, I realized I made the wrong decision for not only did I fail to be the best, I had failed my step sister, the only real friend that I ever did have. I made her life miserable instead of helping her.
I became my mother's puppet instead of standing on my own like my father had taught me before he died.
I became the second-rated person that I have always been.
Wallflower… Second best… Never good enough…
I have failed myself.
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A/N: I'm not really sure where this came from and how I wrote it. It just happened while I was typing away. I'm not sure if it's any good or if you'd be able to understand it (but I really hope you do! ). Tell me what you think! Reviews…Comments…Suggestions…Flames… I'll acknowledge it!