Ever since I can remember, I knew I was just a replacement for my dead sister. The day before I started elementary school, my parents took me to buy a backpack. My mom smiled warmly and asked me, "Sienna, which one do you want? The blue one or the red one?" I pointed at the blue one. Instantly, her smile vanished. She grabbed my shoulders, her grip painfully tight, and screamed hysterically in my face. "Why didn't you choose red?! Gemma only ever chose red!" Seeing my mom having another episode, my dad slapped me hard across the face. My nose bled. The blood was red, too. From that day on, I only ever chose red things. I only dared to want what Gemma would have liked. Once, while playing with my classmates, some playdough got stuck in my hair. The teacher kindly helped me cut the tangled piece out. But when my mom came to pick me up, she lost her mind. "Gemma had long hair! You are not my daughter!" She kicked me out of the car. I ran after it, crying, chasing the car for half an hour before I finally made it home. To avoid triggering my mom, I started mimicking Gemma in every single way. This lasted until the college application season. I scored a perfect 1600 on my SATs and got accepted into Harvard, but my mom demanded that I enroll in the local community college down the street instead. "Gemma was accepted into this college before she died! You have to go!" My high school counselor called to reason with her, but my mom snapped at him, shutting him down instantly. "If Gemma hadn't died, Sienna wouldn't even have been born!" Looking at her hysterical face, I suddenly felt like everything was so pointless. Since I had to copy my sister in every way, then I shouldn't miss out on her final act either. She drowned when she was eighteen. Maybe I should do the same.
When the admission package from the community college arrived, a few local reporters showed up at our door. The moment my mom opened the door, microphones and camera lenses were shoved into her face. "Are you the mother of the genius student, Sienna? Was choosing a community college really Sienna's own decision?" "Don't you think it's unfair to sacrifice Sienna's future to make up for your late daughter's regrets?" Hearing their questions, my mom snapped. She violently pushed the reporters out and slammed the door. Then, she dragged me to Gemma's memorial corner and forced me to my knees. "Sienna! Did you call those reporters on purpose?!" "We are letting you go to the school your sister never got to attend! How is that unfair to you?!" The wooden hanger struck my back. I bit my lower lip so hard it bled. My dad was so angry he smashed a coffee mug on the floor. "Just to rebel against us, you cheated your way to a perfect SAT score?!" "Gemma would never do something so dishonest!" Hearing my dad's words, I felt so hopeless I wanted to laugh. Back in middle school, my brain finally clicked, and I brought home a straight-A report card for the first time. What welcomed me was a brutal beating. "Gemma was always an average student. How could you possibly get top grades? You must have cheated!" To be just like Gemma and avoid triggering them, I learned how to control my grades. I intentionally tanked my GPAs and practice tests. But on the final SAT, the most important turning point of my life, I chose to show my real strength. I never expected that instead of being proud, they would forcibly change my college applications and accuse me of cheating. "I didn't cheat," I said. "Just because Gemma couldn't get top scores doesn't mean I can't." I straightened my back and stood up to them for the first time in my life. Shocked by my defiance, my mom gasped. She stood there, pointing a trembling finger at me, stuttering, "You... you..." for a long time. Finally, she locked me inside Gemma's old room and went outside to chase down the reporters. "I want to report Sienna! She cheated on her exams! I want a full investigation!" Hearing my mom's righteous voice through the door, tears of laughter streamed down my face. In the darkness, my sister's portrait seemed to stare down at me. When I was little and forced to kneel here alone to reflect on my "mistakes," I would always be terrified of her picture and cry. But now, I looked straight into Gemma's eyes and whispered, "I really envy you. You've been gone for twenty years, and they still love you so much." "If I die, will they love me like this too?" The portrait remained silent, her carefree smile frozen in time. She had a deep dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. I didn't. Because of that, my mom never allowed me to smile in front of her. Gemma was naturally hyperactive and loved running wild outside. To force me outside, my mom tore up my sketchbooks and snapped my drawing pencils. She wouldn't let me back into the house until it was pitch black. Even on my birthdays, I could only celebrate Gemma's birthday. The cake was always mango-flavored because it was Gemma's favorite, even though I was severely allergic to mangoes. When it was time to blow out the candles, Gemma's portrait was placed right across from me. My only allowed wish was to pray that Gemma was doing well in heaven. I had been my sister's shadow for eighteen years. I didn't even know who the real me was anymore. How could they ever love me? I don't know how long I sat in the dark. Suddenly, the door clicked open. My dad stood in the doorway, blocking the light from the hallway. He looked incredibly exhausted. "Sienna, go apologize to your mother."
"Ever since your sister passed away, your mom's mental state hasn't been stable," my dad said. "She's getting old. You need to be more understanding." I didn't argue. I walked out numbly. Like I had done a thousand times before, I spoke my lines: "Mom, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked back to you. I shouldn't have gotten those high scores." My mom turned to look at me, but her eyes were glassy and unfocused. She was having another episode. She was seeing Gemma again. "My sweet Gemma, what are you talking about?" "Come, sit down and eat. Mom made all your favorite foods." She pulled me to the dining table and kept piling food onto my plate. This was a treatment I never received when she was lucid. Most of the time, I had to sit the furthest away from the dishes. My parents would sit on either side of Gemma's framed photo. The thickest cut of the steak, the extra cherry on the pie, and the perfectly golden center of the cinnamon roll—those were always reserved for Gemma. I only got to taste them when my mom was confused. After dinner, my mom led me to Gemma's room. She made me lie down on Gemma's soft, queen-sized bed. She carefully tucked me in and sat by the bedside, gently patting my back. "Sleep tight, sweetie. Mom is right here watching over you." I heard this was Gemma's habit when she was little. She was terrified of the dark and couldn't fall asleep alone. She needed my mom to stay with her every night. When I was six, a violent thunderstorm kept me awake. Clutching my pillow, I ran to Gemma's room to find my mom. But my mom shoved me out of the house into the cold night. "You're so young, yet you're already trying to steal your sister's spotlight! I don't have such an ungrateful daughter!" I cried until my voice went completely hoarse. My mom didn't let me back inside until dawn. Now, feeling this rare, borrowed maternal love, I began to count down in my head. Five, four, three, two... The moment I hit one, my mom's eyes snapped back to reality. The warmth in her eyes instantly turned into pure hatred. "Why are you in Gemma's bed?!" "Are you trying to steal the last piece of her left in this world?! Get out!" She dragged me off the bed. Practically on instinct, I scrambled out of the room before she could throw her slippers at me. I retreated to my bedroom, which was actually a modified utility closet. Compared to Gemma's cozy room, this place was incredibly depressing. It got zero sunlight, and it was so damp and cold that I suffered from chronic eczema. Once, when the itching became unbearable, I begged my parents to move to a bigger house. I told them I didn't want a big room like Gemma's. I just wanted a small bedroom that got some sunlight. Our family could easily afford it. But my dad just slapped me. My mom's hand shook with rage as she pointed at me. "This house is the only place your sister ever lived! If we move, she won't be able to find her way home!" "How can you be so selfish?!" So, I had to retreat back into my tiny, cramped closet. Even this closet didn't fully belong to me. Two-thirds of the space was packed with Gemma's old things. Her old keyboard, her dolls, her roller skates. They were covered in thick layers of dust, but I wasn't even allowed to touch them. Because they "preserved" Gemma's scent. I wasn't allowed to ruin it. After calming my mom down, my dad did something rare. He walked into my room. "The school board checked. You didn't cheat. We misjudged you." I didn't say anything. I just stared at him quietly. "Sienna, your sister died the day before she was supposed to leave for college. That is the pain of your mother's life." "Even if you are a genius, you must go to that community college. This is your destiny. You have to accept it." In the dim light, I let out a soft laugh. "I accept it." Watching his relieved back as he walked away, I added silently in my heart: And I will surely follow my sister's destiny, and drown the day before college starts.
To celebrate Gemma's "new beginning," my parents decided to throw a massive graduation party for "her." And I was required to attend as her stand-in. My mom took it very seriously. She dug up some clothes that matched the style Gemma used to wear. Styles from twenty years ago, long outdated. They were cheap clothes my mom had bought from thrift stores or received as hand-me-downs from relatives. Some of the collars were stretched out, and the sleeves were fraying. They all smelled like stale mildew. When I was forced to wear them to school as a kid, my classmates would laugh at me behind my back. Now, I put them on without a word. Seeing me in those clothes, my mom's eyes welled with tears. I knew she was looking at Gemma through me again. That loving gaze of hers had never once truly landed on me. "Don't smile too much later, but keep your manners sweet," she instructed. "Your sister was closest to your Uncle and Aunt Clara. Make sure you talk to them more." She went over the details one by one, terrified I would make a mistake. If I didn't act like Gemma, their beautiful dream would shatter. She had no idea that after eighteen years of acting, Gemma's behavior was already carved into my bones. I knew Gemma better than anyone else did. At the party, every relative who saw me gasped. "Sienna looks so much like Gemma..." "Twenty years flew by so fast. Gemma used to wear clothes just like this when she greeted us." "Yeah, she's just like Gemma. Smart, sweet, and always knowing exactly what to say." Everyone was using me to reminisce about Gemma. It had been like this since I was a little girl. "Sienna likes red too, and she wears her hair in the same pigtails Gemma did." "Sienna can't sit still either, just like Gemma. Always wanting to run wild outside." In the beginning, I would silently scream in my head: No! I'm nothing like my sister! I hate red! I hate long hair! I just want to stay inside, read my books, and paint. I don't want to go outside! But as the years went on, the lines blurred. What color did I actually like? What did I enjoy doing in my free time? What kind of food did I prefer? If Gemma had never existed, and I was my parents' first child... What would my name have been? "Sienna!" A young male voice called out from behind me. I turned around in shock. It was Aunt Clara's son. My cousin, Zach. He was three years older than me and was the only person present who had never met Gemma. And he was the only one who never called me "Gemma." He insisted on calling me "Sienna." Ever since he left for college out of state three years ago, we hadn't seen each other. "Long time no see, Sienna." He reached out and ruffled my hair, just like he used to do when we were kids. Then, he handed me a gift box. "This is your graduation present." I took it numbly and opened it. Inside was a complete set of expensive, professional art supplies. Zach rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit embarrassed. "I remembered you loved drawing when you were little. I hope you can still use these." He then handed me another shopping bag. "This is from my mom." "You're going to college soon, so she picked out a couple of outfits suitable for a young girl." "Hope you like them." I looked down into the bag. Inside was a light blue sundress and a simple white t-shirt. Very basic, but my eyes welled up instantly. The fake, "Gemma-like" smile was still plastered on my face. What would the perfect "Sienna" say right now? What would she do? My mind went completely blank. I realized I didn't even need to wait until the day before college to drown. The real Sienna had died a long time ago. The person standing here was just a cheap, broken copy of Gemma.
I stood there like a frozen robot. Seeing my silence, Zach started to panic. "What's wrong? Do you not like them?" He looked at me, then glanced over at Aunt Clara. "If you don't like them, we can go exchange them for something else after dinner." I sniffed, shaking my head with a smile. "No, I love them. Thank you, Zach." Noticing the redness in my eyes, Zach sighed softly. "Sienna, my mom told me about what's been going on." He patted my shoulder. "Your mom's mental health is... really bad. You've had to suffer so much just to keep her happy." "Once you start college, focus on your grades. You can apply for grad school later. Your life is just starting, Sienna. I know you're going to have an amazing future." Hearing Zach's words, I could barely keep my smile from cracking. Did I really have a future? Could I really shed Gemma's shadow and just live as myself? I got my answer that very night. As soon as we got home, my mom grabbed the art supplies Zach had given me and threw them right out the window. The paint bottles shattered on the concrete driveway below. They looked like splatters of colorful blood from someone who had just jumped. I rushed to the window, but before I could react, my mom pulled the blue dress out of the shopping bag. She flicked a lighter, and the flame instantly licked the fabric. The fire illuminated her twisted face. "Who allowed you to accept these?!" "Gemma never had things like this! What are you trying to prove by bringing them into this house?!" Recalling my cousin's words, something inside me finally snapped. "Gemma is dead! She's dead!" "I am Sienna! I am a living, breathing human being! I have my own tastes! I have my own life to live!" "She died at eighteen! I've played her ghost for eighteen years! Isn't that enough?!" My answer was a stinging slap that cut through the air. The force knocked me to the ground, my back crashing into the memorial table. Gemma's portrait fell with a loud crash, the glass shattering. Her hollow eyes stared straight into mine. My mom pointed a shaking finger at me, her voice trembling. "How dare you... how dare you..." "If Gemma hadn't died, you wouldn't even have a life to live!" "My daughter never got to have a future! What makes you think you deserve one?!" Even though I had always known she didn't love me, hearing those words out loud made my heart shatter into a million pieces. I lay on the floor, my palm sliced open by the shards of Gemma's frame. Blood pooled under my hand. My mom sank to her knees, crying hysterically as she cradled Gemma's portrait in her arms. "My Gemma... my sweet Gemma..." "Does it hurt? Mommy will find a better place for you." She walked right past me, carrying the portrait, without giving me a single glance. My dad grabbed his jacket and rushed out after her. The front door slammed shut. I closed my eyes. I'm sorry, Zach, I thought. That beautiful future you talked about... I won't be able to see it. The hem of the burnt dress was charred black, looking like a withered flower. I pulled it over my head, put it on, and looked at the wide-open window. At this moment, I suddenly changed my mind. I didn't want to drown like Gemma anymore. In my final moment, I wanted to end it as Sienna. This was the only tiny rebellion I had left. I climbed onto the windowsill and took one last look at this house. Then, I closed my eyes and let myself fall backward into the night.
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