The Secrets of a Young Girl

I have only one secret I like to keep hiden. Only one, which I breathe to life in my writing. The characters I create keep it close, like a safety blanket. My story is bled onto the pages, everything I love or what I hate, every truth, every lie, every secret I've kept. My secrets are coded into every short story, every poem, every burst of genius I've ever written down. If one was clever enough, they could pick my life's story out of the words I put down. But no one cares enough to; and I suppose that keeps my secrets safe.

When she was young, she never did anything. She lived in fear of being looked down upon, of being second. Being the youngest, only by two years, was hard. Everything her brother did was perfect, and what she did was merely mediocre. The girl was never better than her brother; Doomed to live forever in his shadow. So, she gave up. That's when she started to stand out.

All through elementary school, teachers would praise her brother. He was perfect, straight A's, behaved in class, never ever got held inside from recess. All through elementary, she was cursed to have her brothers old teachers.

"Why can't you be more like him?" They would ask. "Your brother would never do that." Her teachers would scold. "Why aren't your grades A's?" Her parents would demand, tearing her B ridden report card off the fridge. Her parents would send her away to her room to read, or do math problems, while her brother went outside to play.

Her brother never tried to help her, only taunted and teased her. By the time she was in fifth grade, and he in seventh, the poor girl had given up on being the best, on even being good. Even her baby sister, who was barely four, was doing better than her in day-care.

By the time middle school rolled around, the girl had one rule. She would not spend the next three years of her life being compared to her brother. So, she didn't go to the best school, didn't bother trying to get in. The second best school would have to do for her, and she was determined to thrive.

At her new middle school, her brother's name was only a whisper at home. Her grades got better (except for in math, her brother would forever be better than her at math) along with her attitude. The teachers adored her, praised her even. She got good at sports, started running track and playing softball, and started winning. The feeling of being good at something, at being praised was addicting. Her standards got higher, and she soared.

But everything that goes up, must come down.

Do you see where the story is taking you? The climax is quickly coming, and you know something bad is going to happen, where the secret has to come in to fit the prompt of this challenge, right? What do you think will happen? Will the brother come to her school and mess everything up for her? Do you think I'll follow some cliche and throw in a mental illness curveball? This is my story after all, and I can do whatever I want, the words are my clay and I am the potter.

No, I'm going to keep the story as true as I can. Let's see what happens when one lives in a shadow for the early years of their life.

It hit hard, and it hit fast. She was left like a fish floundering on shore, slowly dying. One year. The girl got one measly year at the school where her they knew her name, and not her brothers. Then their father decided to uproot them, move them far, far away. From that moment, she realized one thing: She hated her family.

She hated them for making her hate herself. For the past year she had done nothing but try to do good; try to shine a light on herself, but it didn't work. While people praised her, she hurt herself. It was never good enough. She was never good enough. The girl reached for support from people with just as destructive personalties.

Regardless of her protests, the move came and went, and she was new. She, her brother, and her sister would be going to the same school now. Her sister in kindergarden, her in seventh, and her brother starting his freshman year. A year of healing. A year of being back in the shadow. But she still tried.

The last two years of middle school taught her lots, like, how to know who your real friends are, how to procrastinate, and mostly, how to roll with the punches. She learned how to brush off the insults people would throw at her, how to laugh in their faces, and how to shine without hating herself. The world did nothing but hurt, so she would grow a tougher skin. She also learned about sexual assault and how it would forever leave scars on her soul, but she grew past that and stopped crying everytime she heard his name.

Highschool came, but it was no change. The same building as middle school, same people, same tiny town. The secrets of her destructive past stayed hidden and she kept them her dirty little secret. Teachers stopped calling her by her brothers name, and started calling him hers (in a small school, grades tend to share teachers). She was a storm to be feared. A storm of wild laughter, messy hair. A tornado of witty remarks and a razor sharp mind. Words became her greatest weapon. Though, inflicting pain never really pleased her, unless it ended with tears. The girl grew, and turned into a weapon, turned herself into a weapon. She stopped hurting herself, and relearned to love herself.

All the while, her classmates went through what she had done alone in sixth grade. She watched them destory themselves through drinking, drugs, blood and sex, only helping when she could, and trying not to let their souls be as ruined as their livers. They called her a killjoy and stopped inviting her places, but she tried not to care. The world loved to kick people when they were down.

The girls story ends here, struggling through highschool with its petty drama, lack of parties, and friends fickler than the weather. As much as I hate to say it, this story stems mostly from truth, though quite a few events are made up.

My motto when writing is "You can't write it if you haven't expiranced it", so, the contents have to be mostly true. The ending though, leaves a question from me to you. Could you find my secret? What the thing I'm dying to keep hidden is? I could tell you, but it would ruin all the fun... I'll play fair though and give you answers. Like a test.

Is my secret

A.) That I partake in the new destructive activites with my friends

B.) That I still fear being in the shadow of my siblings

or C.) That, even though I am not ashamed of having a mental illness, I still fear them

Hint: There's two correct answers.