For as long as I can remember, everyone has thought I'm a bad kid. They just don't know me. Let's start at the beginning, where it all started...
"Mom! Olivia's picking on me!"
"I am not!" That was my twin, Eliza. Everyone loves and adores her. "Olivia! Be Nice to Eliza!"
"I didn't do anything to her mom!"
"Olivia Rose Marie Jackson! Do not back talk!" Well now the whole block knows my full name. Thanks mom, just what I needed in a new neighborhood.
All Eliza and I had now was our mom. Our dad died when we turned two. That's not what any two year old wants on their birthday. At this point of the story, his death was 14 years ago, meaning we were 16. We can talk about his death at our party another time. We had moved the first time when we turned 13. Then every year afterwards, we moved again. Eliza had got me in trouble so much at school every year which is why we had to move so much. This day was two days before we started school.
I know nobody here and now they all know who I am. Actually, that's a lie. I did know somebody. Eliza. She's basically the evil twin of us. Nobody can tell the difference between us. We have the same pale skin tone, same gray blue eyes, same red hair, and the same freckles that dotted our cheek bones. I hate it so much. Nothing about us besides personality was different.
Most of the time people assume having a twin is the best thing in the world. You two will get along like best friends not sisters they said. Well, anyone who said that was wrong. I had to grow up in Miss Princess Eliza's shadow. That's why I started to wear all black. You see, if I drew something as well as Picasso or composed as well as Mozart and Eliza drew and composed like a toddler, everyone would prefer her. It had been a week since we moved and Eliza was already Miss Popular in the house
Eliza is grinning about getting me yelled at. "That's what you get freak." Did my own sister just call me a freak? What sister does that? I glared at her and ran off to my room, locking the door after I slammed it shut. After tearing my braid down and kicking my shoes off at the dent in my wall, I collapsed onto my bed, face first. Most people see me as the strong dark wall of no emotions. They haven't seen me like this. I remember when someone called me a freak in kindergarten and Eliza punched them in the face. Now she's the one calling me a freak. What's happened to my sister? The next thing I knew when I sat up, my face and pillow were soaked with tears and there was a soft knock at my door. "Who is it?" I didn't want to deal with anyone.
"It's me honey. Can I come in?"
"Mom, I just came in here."
"Honey, you've been up here for a few hours. Most of the time I've heard you screaming or throwing things." A few hours? Screaming? Throwing things? I don't remember any of that. "What?"
"Yeah Olivia. You were screaming and crying I think." Slowly I looked around my room and saw that it was destroyed. Uh oh. Mom's gonna be mad. Eventually, I unlocked the door and she walked in. "Olivia what was wrong? Did you have a nightmare again?"
"No, Eliza called me a freak. It snapped me. I must have blacked out or something." I went to move my hand and winced in pain. I looked down at it and saw that it was purple and swollen. Mom saw me wince and checked my hand. "Eliza would never do that. You must have imagined it. Let's go put some ice on that. I hope you didn't break it again."