Little me didn't know how to express the unease, so I could only throw fits at home.
Demanding the newest backpack. Demanding pretty notebooks.
As if Dad and Mom agreeing meant I still had a place in their hearts.
I got the backpack. The notebooks are still in my cabinet today.
But after that, Dad and Mom drifted further and further away.
They thought I was immature. That I wouldn't be a good older sister. That I wouldn't take care of Vivian on my own.
When I was sad and crying hard, all I ever heard were lectures.
"You're the older sister—you have to set an example. Look at you crying like this. If Vivian sees, what will she think? That we abuse children?"
"Vivian's parents died horribly. Your dad and I can't just abandon her. She's your real sister now. Be more sensible. When we're not around, take care of her."
When I cried so hard I couldn't breathe, Mom used up her last shred of patience.
"Alex Fox, look at yourself! You can't even compare to a single strand of your sister's hair. Vivian lost her biological parents and she didn't cry like you! I'm so disappointed in you!"
After that, all of Dad and Mom's attention went to Vivian.
Along with their love.