Prologue

                                    

                                          
I stare at the face that mirrors mine, yet it isn't the same. Her complexion is flawless, while mine is marred by long, vertical scars of self-loathing. Hers radiates beauty, mine is tainted with self-pity. Hers is serene, while mine is creased with the wrinkles of inner guilt, a testament to the hurt, pain, and trauma I've inflicted upon my twin. 
People label me an attention-seeker, quick to assert dominance, but they're blind to the truth. They can't see the ugly, frightened face beneath the layers of makeup, the decayed soul hidden behind expensive clothing. They are shallow as fuck, and I'll never let them look through the diva facade. 
Gazing at her face resurrects every ounce of self-hatred I can muster. Each day, I hope to hate myself a little less, but the loathing only intensifies with every passing second, etching deeper marks on my face, body, and soul. I yearn for absolution, to cleanse myself of my sins, but it demands confession, and I lack the courage. I fear the moment I come clean, my sister will despise me. But even then I know she still won't hate me, as much as I hate myself, hated myself and continue to hate myself for the rest of my life. 
Every time she seeks refuge in my room, unable to sleep, every time she burrows under the covers, creating our secluded haven, I yearn to tell her the truth, to liberate her from her anguish. Yet, I remain silent. And for that, I hate myself. 
I loathe being the reason of my sister's trauma. I detest that I am the cause of her silenced voice. In our story, she is the little mermaid; Ariel, and I, the vile Ursula, have stolen her voice. 
Inhaling shakily, I push away the covers, attempting to flee, but a hand clasps my arm, gripping it until the knuckles turn white. Turning to face her, I see her eyes squeezed shut, tormented by nightmares for which I am to blame. 
Instead of abandoning her, I draw her close, wrapping her in an embrace. "You're strong, Mia. You can overcome this," I whisper until her grip loosens. The sting of unshed tears threatens, but I refuse to cry. I have no right. 
"I am sorry, Mia," I murmur, a daily penance that does nothing to alleviate the agony and guilt. 
"I love you, Mia, and I hope that you might forgive me one day when the truth comes to light," I choke out, as tears betray me and streak down my cheeks. 
I had vowed not to cry, but here I am, breaking yet another promise. 
It won't be long before my sister discovers my betrayal. Until that inevitable moment, I will don the mask of the perfect sister, the staunchest ally she believes she has had from the start. When the truth emerges and everything crumbles going down hill, I will allow myself to fall too. 
I squeeze my eyes shut, a futile attempt to stop the tears, but they betray me, carving a path down my face. They say tears are a release, a temporary reprieve from suffering. For me, they are nothing of the sort. These tears etch deeper the scars of self-loathing and hatred, the only emotions I have allowed myself to feel for myself. 
In the silence of my room, the echo of my sobs is a stark reminder of the duplicity that taints my existence. Each droplet that falls is a testament to the pain I've caused, a pain that no amount of feigned support can erase. The weight of my deception is a heavy shroud, and beneath it, I am suffocating. 
"I'm sorry, Mia," I whisper into the void, a mantra of remorse that never reaches her ears. My apologies are as hollow as the comfort I feign to give. I am a fortress of secrets, and within these walls, my conscience is the prisoner. 
I love you, Mia, more than you can ever know, and I am shackled by the hope that one day, you might see past the facade and forgive the sister who failed you. But until then, I am a ghost in your shadow, haunted by the specter of the truth. 
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This book is kind of hard to write, but trust me I am so in for this ride, guys. 
The prologue is just the snippet of how deep Maya is and how deep the story will get. 
Happy Reading 🫶