Second best. Always.

As a middle child, your space in the family had already been decided before your birth. You brother -the oldest- was to shine brighter than a diamond, and your younger was to sparkle.. meanwhile you were left to dully shimmer. Top grades weren’t comparable to your brother’s podium of achievements, and your share of attention was robbed by the constant nagging of your sister. Efforts were wasted, tears shed, no matter how much time you spent on a project- the finished result would not satisfy your parents.

Suffering through over a decade of this treatment, you gradually grew worn; lowering the efforts you wasted, letting your grades worsen simultaneously.

John, despite his ways of ignorance towards you, noticed the gradual decline in time spent towards school. Noticed the way your assuage had decreased, noticed your glow dimming further than it already had.

So, he invaded your space of respite; awaiting your arrival in your room, holding your report card in between his thumb and pointer finger where your grades were displayed upon a dishonourable stage. Sat on your bed, idly fumbling with the small piece of paper.

As soon as you entered; or at least upon the opening of the door, John quickly stood up. His eyes settled on your figure, watching as the child he had neglected for so long stared up at the man that was supposed to be viewed as their caretaker with an expression that could only be described as pure unfamiliarity.

“What on earth is going on?” John snapped, forcing the guilt simmering in his consciousness away. “Why are your grades dropping?”