Emily always aimed to be at the top. She just had to be number one. There was one problem: her sister, Heather.
Heather had it all. She was pretty, smart, athletic, and by far the most popular girl in school. To top it all off, she didn’t even try or make a conscious effort. Emily herself was pretty and smart, too, but Heather always outshined her younger sister.
I got to know the two of them when I was in second grade. They had moved into the house next door with their father. It was only natural for us to become friends. Emily and I became especially close, given that we were in the same grade.
It’s hard to say when Emily’s envy began. I thought it started during middle school, but it must’ve been much earlier. Emily never showed it openly. In front of her sister and their father, she wore the mask of the ideal younger sibling. She’d always compliment her sister, but I could see the tiny cracks in her mask; the narrowed eyes, and the fake smile that stayed on for a bit too long.
I’d thought it was nothing but sisterly rivalry, but one late afternoon, as the two of us were walking home, I found out just how furious she was.
“She’s so goddamn perfect, it’s unfair!”
“Who is?”
“Her! Why’s everyone always talking about her? Today as well! ‘Oh, Emily, I’m sure one day you’ll be as pretty as your sister.’ Ugh, how I hate it!”
“Look who’s talking,” I said, laughing. “I mean, just look at-“
“Oh, shush, Lizzy!” she cut me off, staring me down. “That’s not the point.”
“I was just trying-“
“Just stop, okay? Do you have any idea how hard it is!?”
I sighed, but said nothing else.
“How many times do you think I have to hear how I’m almost as perfect as her? How do you think I feel when a guy I like asks me about her? I’m sick and tired of it!”
In her anger, she stomped on next to me, her hands balled into fists. For a moment, she stopped her angry tirade and bit down on her lower lip. Then another mumbled curse escaped her mouth. This was only the first of many similar outbursts.
When Heather graduated, she followed her dream of becoming a professional dancer. Emily thought her time to shine had come. Finally, her sister had left the throne to her. At least, that’s what Emily thought, but Heather proved to be an ever-looming shadow. Guys only talked about how they’d kill for a chance with her. The trophy case still showed her many accomplishments, and even the cheerleaders aspired to be just as good as Heather. No one ever talked about Emily, and I could see how that hatred was eating away at her.
Things changed two years later, when Emily and I graduated as well, and went on to university. Finally, Emily seemed to free herself from her sister’s shadow and to become a person of her own. Being the close friends we were, we decided to attend the same university. Emily majored in fashion design, while mousy little me went into the science field. We even moved into the same dorm. Sure, we weren’t dorm mates, but we lived only a single floor away from each other.
During our second semester, Facebook exploded in popularity. Having been on Myspace for years, I was quick to sign up. Emily was more reluctant, but after I’d pestered her for weeks, she made an account of her own. She was quick to discover her sister had a profile, too.
I had thought her obsession was long over, but now I realized just how deep her envy truly ran. Every once in a while, when I came to her room, I’d find her hunched over at her desk, leaning forward, and glaring at the computer screen. Sometimes, I’d watch her in fascinated trance before I made myself known. She went through her sister’s pictures, her posts, and even her friends list. She never admitted to it, and either minimized the browser or downplayed it by stating she was just looking for mutual friends. I knew what was going on, however, and I knew she was stalking her sister.
When Facebook launched the fan page feature, I suggested Emily might create one for her designs. At first she was against it, but once I pointed out the advantages, she gave in. To her, and even my surprise, she got quite a few initial fans. After some weeks, the number had grown to a hundred, and two months later, it was well above a thousand.
Then one day, when I came over to her dorm room, I found her on the phone.
“You have no idea how happy I am. I mean, more than a thousand people! It’s unreal!”
At first she didn’t even notice me, and seemed entirely absorbed in her conversation. While she bubbled into the phone, she was pacing the room, her face twisted into a forced smile. When she finally noticed me, I pointed at the phone in her hand.
“Oh, it’s Heather!”
I frowned for a moment, said a quick hello, and found myself a place to sit.
“Yeah, Lizzy helped me set it up.”
“No, I think that’s not it. Maybe I’m just talented, you know?”
She giggled into the phone, but it was so fake and hollow it made me shudder.
“Oh? Yeah, I guess. I mean, sure, I’d be happy to help.”
She said it in a voice as sweet as honey, but her face was distorted by this mockingly satisfied expression. I’d never seen her like that before.
“No, it’s not hard at all. I could even invite some of my friends to like your page.”
I sighed when she said this. Emily noticed, and instantly stared me down. I could only shrug in annoyance.
“What’s that Heather? Yeah, sure. Well, Lizzy’s waiting, gotta go, sorry.”
I looked up at Emily, who was beaming. Not at me, but at herself. It was ghastly, because I couldn’t remember when I’d last seen her that happy.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“I told Heather a little about my fan page,” she said in the most innocent of voices.
She told me she’d called her sister because she missed her. After all, she was the only family she’d left. The topic of the fan page came up by sheer chance. Once it was out, though, Emily had to tell her sister all about it. After a while, Heather wanted to know more.
“I mean, I had to help her, right?”
I nodded, but I knew what this was really about. For the first time, Emily was the popular one, and Heather could use her help. I could see how she relished the feeling, the look of bliss on her face, the long torn-out breaths she took, and, of course, the fact she couldn’t seem to stand still. She was out of it.
Every time Heather called her, Emily was in that same state of euphoric bliss. Her eyes were wide, her mouth warped into this ghastly, over-drawn smile, and her eyes were glowing with an almost manic light. It didn’t matter where Emily was or what she was doing. We were at the bar? She’d rush off to the toilet. We were in the study hall? She’d leave for half an hour. Even when the two of us were hanging out with friends, she would rush off to answer the phone.
I tried to talk to her about it multiple times, but she always shrugged it off. After all, Heather was her sister, so she had to help her out. I was annoyed at her behavior, but more than anything, I was hurt. She was never like that when it was just the two of us. I was supposed to be her best friend!
All that changed a few months later. I could instantly tell something was wrong with Emily. She was fidgety, nervous, and constantly on edge. Whenever she could, she’d check Facebook, and I could always see that weary expression on her face. I didn’t know what exactly was going on, but I was sure it was related to Heather.
Then, one day when I was on my way to my room, things took a turn for the worse. People were whispering in the hallway, and I noticed a crowd had formed on Emily’s floor. Someone was yelling and screaming. When I got closer, I saw people standing in front of Emily’s door.
“That freaking…! Why’s it always her?! It’s always… Fuck!”
It was Emily. From behind the closed door, I could hear more curses mixed with the sound of things breaking. I tried to open the door, but found it locked.
“Hey! Emily? What’s going on?”
I knocked on the door. First gently, but soon I was pounding against it.
“Are you okay? What’s-?”
Suddenly, the tore was torn open, and I found myself face to face with her. She looked terrible: her hair was wild, her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying, and her mouth tight, hard line. The room behind her was in utter chaos. The remains of her belongings and various sketches and designs littered the floor.
“W-What are you doing?” I asked, confused.
“You,” she spat, staring daggers at me.
Then she took a step forward and pushed me back.
“This is all your fault!”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that stupid fan page! If you wouldn’t have told me to set this thing up, then Heather would’ve never-“
“This is about Heather?”
“Of course it is! Do you have any idea how well her page is-“
I cut her right off.
“First of all, weren’t you helping her the entire time? What did you expect? Second of all, who cares?”
“I fucking care, Lizzy!” she snapped at me.
She trembled, and tears of rage streamed down her face.
“Why’s she always got to be better than me? Can’t she let me have anything?!”
“You want to know why? Because Heather doesn’t care about popularity or being better than others.”
When she heard this, Emily pushed me once more, this time harder. I stumbled backward and hit my head against the wall. I opened my mouth to yell at her, but when I saw her standing there, I almost laughed. She looked like a pouty little child. Crying, her hands balled into fists, and biting down on her lower lip. Her eyes, however, told me a different story. They were full of hate, and for a moment, I thought she’d pounce on me. Instead, she just stumped on the ground, and let out a toneless scream of frustration.
At that moment, I turned around, made my way through the crowd, and returned to my room. When I went to check how much better Heather’s page was doing, I saw Emily had already deleted hers. After this incident, I didn’t talk to her for weeks. Her obsession with her sister had annoyed me for months, and this was the last straw. I was done with her for good.
Then, one morning, she called me out of the blue. I stared at the phone, reluctant to answer. I half-expected her to hurl more insults at me, or worse, cry about her sister again.
When I eventually picked up, she was in hysterics.
“Heather was in an accident!” she said before I could so much as say hello.
“Wait, Emily, what happened?”
“I don’t know. I’m not at the hospital yet!”
“Where are you at!? I’m coming, too!”
At the hospital, we soon learned what had happened. On the way to one of her performances, a car had crashed into Heathers. One of her legs was almost crushed in the collision, and she had to be taken to the emergency room. The doctors were able to save the leg, but it would be paralyzed.
When Emily heard the news, I thought I saw the hint of a smile on her face. It was only there for the blink of an eye, and I was sure I’d imagined it. All I saw now was sadness and tears. We hugged each other tenderly. Her clinging to me, rambling on about her sister. I just held her, trying to comfort her, but the image of that fleeting smile stayed with me.
When we could finally enter Heather’s room, she didn’t look up. Her face was entirely empty, and all the color had drained from it. Her eyes were staring ahead at nothing, and her mouth was slightly open. She just lay there, unmoving, like a broken and discarded doll. I couldn’t imagine how she felt. Having your dream taken from you in a mere instant… You could see it in her, and you could feel it in the oppressive atmosphere that filled the room.
From that day onward, Emily visited her sister daily. During that time, I didn’t see or hear much of her. The few times we actually met up, it was only ever for a few minutes at a time.
“It doesn’t matter what happened before. We only have each other, Lizzy. Since Dad died, there’s no one else.”
Once Heather was released from the hospital, Emily moved in with her in their old home. She took it upon herself to take care of her sister. To do that, she also took a break from university.
When I finally found the time to visit them, not much had changed about Heather. She would talk to me, but it was nothing but mundane things. Her voice was emotionless, and I could tell she didn’t care about the words she was saying, didn’t want to convey anything. No, she just went through the motions. The dream she’d lost, her dancing, however, was never so much as whispered about.
As the weeks passed, Heather slowly improved. Occasionally, I could see these short, shy smiles wash over her face as we talked, and it told me that life was returning to her. Emily, too, had changed, and seemed truly happy about her sister’s recovery. I hadn’t seen them like that in forever. True sisters, bound by a deep-set affection for one another.
I visited the sisters a lot during that time. At first, it was only to help Emily move, and set up a small studio for herself. These initial visits, however, were enough to rekindle the old friendship the three of us had shared. We spent countless evenings talking about the fun we’d had as kids together. Yet whenever I left, there was this strange feeling. Emily talked so happily about those days, but I couldn’t forget how she’d resented her sister back then, constantly ranting on about how much she hated her. I told myself she’d changed, that it was all in the past, but was it truly? I could only hope so.
As Heather’s leg healed, she found her independence again, allowing Emily to dive back into her fashion. One evening, while Emily worked on a new piece, I had a long conversation with Heather.
“I’m still not sure what to do with, well… life,” she confessed sadly, glancing at her crippled leg.
I was quiet and shuffled around before I got an idea.
“Why don’t you help Emily with her fashion?”
Heather gave me that same shy smile before she dismissed the idea, laughing.
“Oh, Lizzy, there’s no way I’d be good at it. I was never good at anything, except…”
Once more, she was quiet but I gently urged her on.
“It would give you something to do, and it could give you a way to repay Emily for everything she’s done.”
Eventually, she agreed to think about it. It was the last time I should ever talk to her.
Some weeks ago, I’d been offered an internship, but I hesitated. Moving to the other end of the country meant leaving the two of them behind. Yet the closer they grew, the more I felt like an outsider, nearby, but no longer part of what they shared. So, I eventually left. Life was stressful, work was hard, and slowly, the sisters and I drifted apart. Messages became scarce, and I didn’t want to be intruding. For the first time, the two of them seemed like a family again, as if they had rediscovered something long lost.
Two months later, in the late evening, after a long day at work, I noticed I had several missed calls from Emily, but also a voice mail. When I heard her quiet voice, riddled with sobs, my heart instantly sank. As I listened, I held the phone in my shaking hand before I slumped down with tears in my eyes. Heather had killed herself by jumping out of a window.
I tried to call Emily, but she declined, and messaged me she wasn’t able to talk to me right now. With shaking hands, I typed out a response, telling her I was always there for her and that she could reach out whenever she needed me. Then, as my worries about the way she acted intensified, I booked a ticket back home. Sitting on the train, I didn’t understand what had happened. Why… this? Why now? Heather had gotten so much better, hadn’t she? I thought back to that conversation about her wanting to help Emily, about how happy the two of them had been, and yet… Had I just not seen her pain?
At the funeral, a devastated Emily told me that her sister had never truly gotten over the fact that she couldn’t dance anymore. She always put on a happy face, and never truly told anyone, but Emily had noticed how it was eating away at her.
“I should’ve seen it coming, but…” she said, with tears in her eyes.
During the gathering at the funeral, Emily revealed that she’d name her newest collection after her sister. It was to honor her memory, she said.
In the months to follow, the collection turned out to be an enormous success. Not financially, but the positive reception was overwhelming. Many people, both friends and strangers, urged her to put it up for sale. It seemed Emily’s career in fashion was off to a great start.
That’s until I discovered the truth.
By that time, my internship was long over, and I was living at the dorms again. One day, I couldn’t access my Facebook account. To restore my password, I had to access the old email I’d used to sign up. After I’d logged in, I had a quick look through the emails, but all I saw was spam, except for one. It was an email from Heather, sent about half a year ago. I felt cold when I saw this. My heart skipped a beat, and goosebumps appeared all over my arms. I hovered over it, but somehow, it felt wrong, like I was… dishonoring her memory. Then, after the initial shock and confusion were gone, I clicked it.
In it, Heather thanked me for urging her to work with Emily. At first, she only supported Emily here and there, but before long, she grew to enjoy it. She told me she’d started to work on a few pieces of her own. She couldn’t wait to show them to Emily, but before that, she wanted a second opinion. At first, I sat there, confused, not understanding what I was looking at. Wasn’t that Emily’s new collection? The one she’d named after Heather? Then why’d Heather sent those? How did she have those? Then it hit me. Emily must’ve stolen them from her and… Confusion was replaced by anger. I thought about Heather’s shy smile when I’d urged her to help Emily, her excitement in the email. She’d sounded so happy, so proud about those designs of hers. I wanted to scream, to understand why Emily would do something like that.
I was at her house an hour later, the same house where Heather had killed herself. When she opened the door, I confronted her about it right away. Emily denied everything. It was all bullshit, a fake email sent by someone jealous of her newfound success. Why did I believe it? How could I think she’d do something like that? The more I pressed her, however, the more agitated she became, the more desperate. She was ranting on and on, making up scenario after scenario, stumbling over her words, half-screaming at me.
At first, Heather had never even talked to her. Then she admitted Heather helped her out a little, before one sketch was by Heather, but only one. Finally, she threw her hands down, stomping on the ground in frustration like she’d done so many times before, and confessed everything.
“It was always just her! Heather this, Heather that. Everyone only ever talked about her. How she was oh so perfect. But then poor little Heather had her accident.
As she stood there, I saw it again, that same smile I thought I’d seen at the hospital. Now it was more pronounced, more disgusting, full of vile satisfaction, and I knew it hadn’t been my imagination.
“But you know what!? Once her dream was shattered, she couldn’t help but barge into mine. Mine! I’d finally found something I was good at. And you know what? You know fucking what, Lizzy? Here comes crippled Heather again!”
In her anger, she was pacing left and right, had balled her hands into fists and wasn’t even breathing as she spat her words at me.
“Oh, how she asked, with that silly little smile of hers. ‘Lizzy said I should try out fashion. Maybe I could try it on my own. I just want to see how things turn out.’ And guess what? Things turned out amazing!”
She threw her arms up as she said that last sentence.
“Heather’s designs were better than anything I ever did! Anything!”
She laughed and shook her head in disbelief and sheer outrage.
“She didn’t even know what she was doing! Can you imagine it, Lizzy? ‘Am I doing it right, Emily? Do you think it works?’ Oh yes, Heather, it worked! It was fucking great, Heather!”
She turned towards me, her eyes wide.
“Can you believe it, Lizzy? Can you!?”
“I, I don’t-“
“Of course you don’t! I couldn’t either. But this… this bitch! She was better than me again. Same as always. But this time, I wouldn’t let her get away with it. Not this time!”
Emily still stared me down, but I watched as her mouth slowly warped into a grotesque smile.
“You know what I did? You know what I did when she showed me her finished pieces? I laughed right in her face. ‘Sorry, Heather, but dear god, those are terrible.’ That’s what I said!”
A mad giggle burst from Emily’s mouth before she began cackling. I felt sick to my stomach.
“I told her I had to hide them away before anyone could see them. ‘We wouldn’t want people to think not only your leg but also your arms are paralyzed, wouldn’t we?’”
With that, she broke into bouts of laughter that rippled through her entire body. For a moment, her euphoric rage become so much, I thought she’d keel over.
“My god, you should’ve seen her face. It was, it was-“
She had to stop to catch her breath, and for a few moments she just stood there panting, still shaken by the remnants of that mad bout of laughter. Insanity, I thought, pure insanity.
“It was the best thing ever! The oh-so-great Heather was crying right in front of me! It felt so damn good!” she said, red-faced and beaming at me.
“But I wasn’t done with her. Oh no, I was not. I kept demanding she’d help me. It was the least she could do. Maybe she’d even be able to pick up a thing or two. And you know what? Innocent, sweet little Heather agreed. It felt so good to torment her like this, Lizzy, so damn good!”
For a moment she was hugging herself, and I saw her entire body quivering with excitement. Then the mad smile was back.
“It was so funny. ‘This is no good, Heather. What are you even doing, Heather? My god, you’re ruining everything, Heather!’ Oh, how the tears kept flowing!”
“Don’t tell me because of this she-?”
“Killed herself? Of course! And you know what? I could’ve stopped her. I heard how she dragged herself up to the attic on that leg of hers. Could hear the creaking of the floorboards above me. And you know what, Lizzy? I could’ve run after her and told her I didn’t mean any of it.”
And finally, a cruel grin showed on her face, one with the corners of her mouth almost up to her ears. The whites of her teeth showed like the canines of a mad, rabid animal. It was nothing but a savage look.
“But I didn’t. I just leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. Then minutes later, I heard the impact.”
A wave of nausea washed over me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This woman, this disgusting creature; how had I ever been friends with her!? But then I saw tears streaming from her eyes, and she started sobbing heavily.
“Emily, you-“ I started, but my voice trailed off.
I’d thought those were tears of guilt that she’d realized what her hateful obsession had driven her to do. When she spoke again, however, I realized how wrong I was.
“I was… I mean, I was so happy, Lizzy. Finally, I could be the popular one. Finally, it would be me!”
She stood there, her eyes wide and glowing, her face radiant, half-dancing across the room as if she was having the most beautiful of dreams. I watched the insane display, shaken to my core, not able to find any words for this absurdity, for this display of insane joy. After only a few seconds, she came to a halt. Her head jerked in my direction, her face turned hard, and her eyes came to rest on me.
“If it wasn’t for that damned email,” she spat. “Things would’ve been perfect, but you had to read it, didn’t you, Lizzy!?”
She took a threatening step towards me, then another, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.
“But you know, no one has to find out about it,” she said, her voice dripping with malice, and an unsaid, lingering threat.
As she moved closer towards me, I backed away, my breath coming in short, hard bursts. She couldn’t mean to… Before I could finish the thought, her fingers closed around a pair of sharp scissors. I backed away, tried to run, but she was faster, and got a hold of me. My heart was pounding in my chest. I had to run, to get away, but I couldn’t. Then she raised her hand, ready to bring the scissors down on me. I screamed, raising my arms instinctively to protect myself.
“Emily, don’t!”
For a moment, I could almost feel the piercing pain, but then, when I looked up, I found her just standing there. She was shaking, and a moment later, the scissors dropped from her hand.
“Oh god, Lizzy, what am I even…”
Then she opened her arms, staring at me with a pleading expression on her face.
“Please, Lizzy, you don’t have to-“
“Get the fuck away from me!” I screamed at her and pushed myself past her.
Once I was back home, I revealed everything. With trembling fingers, I typed out a long Facebook post about all the disgusting things my former best friend had done, including the truth about Emily’s new collection. After that, I sent Heather’s email to everyone I knew.
It didn’t take long for people to turn on Emily. My phone rang day and night. Calls and texts by Emily kept flooding it. At first she was begging me to forgive her, but slowly, they grew more vitriolic, even threatening. I ignored them all. Instead, I watched as all the praise and admiration for Emily slowly turned to condemnation.
An investigation about her involvement in Heather’s death was started, but nothing came of it. Suicide is a divisive issue, and my story couldn’t be proven by a single email. In the end, it was ruled that the driving force behind Heather’s suicide had been her ongoing depression.
I don’t know what happened to Emily after all that. For a while, random accounts posted spiteful comments on my Facebook profile and the memorial page Heather’s friends had created. Everyone knew it was Emily.
After a while, however, things got quiet. Some said Emily finally moved on with her life. Others said her guilt finally got the better of her, and she followed her sister into an early grave. If she’s alive, however, I’m sure her envy still torments her.
Even to this day.