I was never unique, or clever, or pretty at all. That had been my sister. My wonderful, amazing sister. We were the complete opposite. She was outgoing, smart… perfect. I was… something else. My parents didn't see me, because she took all the spot light.
She deserved to be better than me. I was always slacking off at school, giving constant excuses for late homework, and being late for everything.
The attention was given to me once. I remembered getting into a fight because one of the kids had called me the odd one. I broke his nose and made him cry to his mother. He never came back to school, or snitched on me. But my sister did.
She told our parents what I did to him, and they didn't care I was provoked. I still remember their words.
"Why can't you be more like your sister?"
I couldn't be mad at my sister, even though she had done that. She was the reason that boy had provoked me, and she had told our parents and got me into trouble. But she was my sister. I had to forgive her.
She had so many friends, too. I had none. I sat outside and ate my lunch alone while she laughed with them, and played tag. She invited me to play once, but her friends didn't like me and made me the bad guy every time.
When we moved into middle school, she played the piano. My parents told me to play an instrument, so I chose the recorder like the other amateur kids. She was naturally talented, and my parents bought her a key board. I borrowed the recorder from the school, and after a few months I gave up, showing no talent with music at all.
My parents made me take all kinds of lessons. Ballet, swimming, tennis, baseball. I wanted to go horse riding, but it was too expensive. I went to help out in the stables every week, watching the other kids ride. I cried every time I came home, wanting so much to ride. My sister was using the only spare money we had on her piano lessons.
So after a year of watching other kids ride, with envy, I took one of the whips from the stable and hit her till she cried. I called her names and screamed at her for being so much better than me. I was a failure compared to her, and now no one would love me like her. I cut her long beautiful black hair, to try and make her less pretty.
She told our parents what I had done, just like the last time. I only hated her more. But after I was punished, she was never the same.
She started seeing pictures in her mind. She told me about what she saw. She said she saw me sometimes. But they scared her. She saw me crying, and depressed. She was so scared she told our parents.
They were scared too. I helped her tell them, but they didn't take it well at all. Our father took her away that night. I laid awake in bed, waiting for them to come home. I longed for the bed next to me not to be empty. My father was home late that night. My sister didn't come home. I looked for her in the morning, but couldn't find her. I asked where she had gone.
"She's gone to get better." was the reply.
It was a lie. She wasn't sick. I knew that she had a gift. The pictures in her mind were not a bad thing. I know now. They were pictures of the future.
A man came to me one night. He told me I would never see my sister again, but she wasn't dead. He told me she wouldn't be dead for a long time. He told me about vampires.
He told me she couldn't remember anything before she was turned. All her memories were lost. I was glad she couldn't remember me.
Vampires are supposed to be the monsters, but that is wrong. She never could be the monster. She was beautiful, smart, and loved. I was the jealous, un-talented one. I was the monster.