mountain
When we were small, a witch named Sybil predicted that my sister would not live past sixteen.
Since then, every eye in the family turned toward her.
All the love in that house gathered around Aurora and stopped there.
Whatever she wanted, whatever she wanted to do, our parents backed her completely. Every scrap of tenderness and every resource they had went to her, while I was left out in the cold, and the things that should have been mine were handed to her too.
Even so, I never complained, not once. I knew my sister was someone to be pitied.
Then the day of the prophecy came, the day she turned sixteen, and I was the one who ended up poisoned with wolfsbane, of all people, hanging on the edge of death.
My parents were busy with her. They decided I was making a scene, and they ordered the guards to throw me out of the castle.
My arms and legs had no strength left. I dragged myself toward the doors and called out in a shaking voice, "Dad, Mom, let me in, please, it hurts so much..."
Instead, from behind the doors my father's gentle voice said to my sister, "Don't worry, sweetheart. The one causing trouble has been put out. No one is going to take your parents' love away from you again."
Hearing that, something in me died for good.
With the sound of my family fussing over her drifting through the door, I slowly closed my eyes.