The Sister’s Scorn

Vic woke to the sound of muffled voices drifting up from the kitchen. It was a familiar sound, one that signaled another tense morning in the house. He pulled the blanket over his head, wishing he could disappear. But the day beckoned, as it always did, and he forced himself out of bed.

Downstairs, Mary was preparing breakfast with the same weary efficiency that marked all her actions. Sarah sat at the table, her eyes flicking towards Vic with thinly veiled contempt as he entered the room.

"Good morning," Vic mumbled, sliding into his chair.

"Morning," Mary replied absently, her focus on the frying pan. She didn't look up, and Vic felt a pang of loneliness. He looked at Sarah, hoping for a moment of kindness, but her eyes were cold.

"Did you finish your homework, Vic?" Mary asked, finally glancing at him.

"Yes, Mom," he answered quickly.

"Good. Try to keep it up. You don't want to fall behind again."

Sarah snorted, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, Vic. Don't want to be a failure, right?"

Vic said nothing, staring at his plate. Mary didn't reprimand Sarah; she never did. It was as if she didn't hear the venom in her daughter's voice, or maybe she didn't care.

After breakfast, the walk to school was a silent, awkward affair. Vic lagged behind, as usual, trying to stay out of Sarah's way. At school, the real torment began. Sarah had a circle of friends who seemed to delight in making Vic's life miserable.

"Hey, freak!" one of them, Jenny, called out as they entered the schoolyard. "Where's your shadow today?"

Vic tried to ignore her, but Sarah stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "What's the matter, Vic? Cat got your tongue?" she taunted.

"Leave me alone, Sarah," Vic said quietly, trying to step around her.

Sarah pushed him back. "Or what? You gonna cry to Mommy?" She looked back at her friends, who laughed on cue. "Mom doesn't care about you. She's just waiting for you to screw up like Dad did."

Vic's face burned with humiliation. He turned and walked away, but the damage was done. The day stretched out like a prison sentence, each class a reminder of his isolation.

During lunch, Vic sat alone at the far end of the cafeteria, picking at his food. He could hear Sarah and her friends laughing and whispering, glancing in his direction. He wished he could disappear, to melt into the walls and be forgotten.

"Is this seat taken?" a voice asked, breaking through his thoughts.

Vic looked up to see a girl from his math class, Emily, standing there with a tray. She was kind of quiet and didn't seem to hang out with Sarah's crowd.

"No, you can sit," Vic said, surprised.

Emily sat down, giving him a small smile. "I'm Emily. We're in Mrs. Whitman's class together."

"Yeah, I know," Vic replied, trying to muster a smile. "I'm Vic."

"I know," she said, and there was something in her tone that made Vic's heart sink. Did she already know what everyone else thought about him?

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Emily spoke again. "You know, you shouldn't let them get to you."

Vic looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean your sister and her friends. They're just... mean."

"It's not that easy," Vic said, his voice barely a whisper.

"I know it's not," Emily said, her eyes soft with understanding. "But you're not alone."

Vic felt a flicker of hope, a tiny spark in the darkness. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought. Maybe there were people who didn't see him as a freak.

The moment was short-lived. As Emily got up to leave, Sarah and her gang approached, smirks plastered across their faces.

"Making new friends, Vic?" Sarah sneered. "Better watch out, Emily. He's a loser."

"Leave him alone, Sarah," Emily shot back, surprising everyone, including Vic. "You don't own this school."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Come on, girls. Let's leave the freaks to themselves." She turned on her heel, her friends trailing behind, still laughing.

Emily gave Vic a reassuring nod before heading back to her own group. Vic watched her go, a mix of gratitude and embarrassment churning inside him. He knew standing up to Sarah would only make things worse, but at least for a moment, someone had cared enough to try.

When Vic got home that afternoon, he hoped for a quiet evening. But as he entered the house, he found Sarah and Mary in the living room, locked in a heated argument.

"You're always defending him!" Sarah yelled. "He's a screw-up, and you know it!"

"I'm not defending anyone," Mary said wearily. "But you don't have to be so cruel, Sarah. He's your brother."

"Half-brother," Sarah spat. "And he's ruining everything."

Vic stood frozen in the doorway, unsure whether to stay or leave. Sarah's eyes flicked to him, and her anger flared.

"Speak of the devil," she said. "What do you want, Vic?"

"Nothing," Vic said quickly. "I'll just go to my room."

"Good idea," Sarah snapped. "Stay out of my sight."

Mary sighed, rubbing her temples. "Sarah, that's enough."

But the damage was done. Vic fled to his room, his heart pounding. The walls seemed to close in on him, the air thick with the weight of Sarah's hatred. He threw himself onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow.

*He's just a freak.*

The words echoed in his mind, a relentless torment. How had it come to this? How had he become the target of such scorn, the embodiment of everything wrong in their lives?

The days blurred into weeks, each one a repeat of the last. Vic's only solace was the brief, stolen moments of kindness from Emily. She became a beacon in his dark world, a reminder that not everyone saw him through the lens of Sarah's disdain.

One afternoon, as they walked home together, Emily turned to him. "You know, Vic, you're stronger than you think."

Vic looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you keep going. No matter what they say, no matter how hard it gets, you don't give up. That takes strength."

Vic wanted to believe her, but the weight of his mother's curse and his sister's scorn was heavy. "Sometimes it feels like I'm just surviving, not really living."

Emily's eyes were sad but determined. "Surviving is the first step. Living comes next."

Her words stayed with him, a small comfort against the daily barrage of insults and isolation. He clung to them, hoping that one day, he might find the strength to truly live.

At home, the tension between Sarah and Vic continued to escalate. Every small victory, every moment of peace was shattered by her relentless bullying. She sabotaged his homework, spread rumors at school, and found new ways to isolate him further.

One evening, as Vic tried to focus on his homework, Sarah barged into his room. "Mom says dinner's ready," she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

"I'll be down in a minute," Vic replied, not looking up.

Sarah stepped closer, her shadow falling over his desk. "You know, you really are pathetic, Vic. You can't even stand up for yourself."

"Just leave me alone, Sarah," Vic said, his voice trembling with suppressed anger.

"Why? So you can pretend everything's fine? It's not. You're a freak, and everyone knows it."

Vic clenched his fists, trying to hold back the tears. "I'm not a freak," he whispered.

Sarah laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Keep telling yourself that."

As she left, Vic felt something inside him break. He was tired of the constant torment, the unending comparisons, and the weight of expectations he couldn't meet. But Emily's words echoed in his mind: *Surviving is the first step. Living comes next.*

Vic didn't know when or how, but he vowed to himself that one day, he would rise above the scorn and the curses. One day, he would find a way to live, not just survive. And maybe, just maybe, he would prove to everyone, including himself, that he was more than the sum of their cruel words.

But for now, he was trapped in a world of shadows, fighting to keep his head above water, clinging to the hope that somewhere, somehow, there was a future worth fighting for.