“In every set of twins, there is one angel, one devil.”
Her brother was, by all definitions, perfect.
Everything he did was magnificent, flawless: his spotless school record; his 4.0 GPA; his unfailingly polite manners; his unique ability to never piss off the parental unit – all of it and more just went to show how amazing he was, and how she could never hope to be comparable to him.
That didn’t stop her parents and teachers from comparing them, though; everything she did was wrong in their eyes, and even when she did something right, it was immediately weighed against how he had performed the same task. She, of course, was the one who, from their comparisons, came out lacking.
“Your brother could do this better.”
“Your brother got an A+ on this assignment, while you got only an A.”
“Your brother works so hard; why don’t you do the same?”
As she got older – and more rebellious – their remarks progressively got worse:
“Your brother passed his exams with flying colors; why did you fail?”
“Your brother never sneaks out of the house to go to late-night parties; he’s never given us reason to ground him.”
“You’re twins, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be as intelligent and hard-working as he is?”
…and so on.
When her temper finally flared, unable to stand their words, all she got was shocked looks and more comparisons: “Your brother never talks back to us” and “your brother has never once lost his temper” being the leading ones.
Why did her brother never talk back to them? Because they never gave him a bloody reason to do so, that was why! Nobody ever complained about him, they never found any fault with him. It was always her wrongdoings they noticed. Even when he, surprisingly, came home three hours after curfew, her parents forgave him because “it’s nothing compared to what your sister does all the time. She’s a disgrace, really.”
Her brother was, by all definitions, perfect; everyone loved him.
What she hated the most about herself was that she adored him, too.