Fairness Killed the Wrong Daughter

My twin sister, Scarlett, and I were identical. Mom always claimed she had to be fair, so she bought two of everything, perfectly matched. But that New Year’s Eve, when we were given our sparkler wands, mine felt damp and soft. It wouldn’t catch a flame. I secretly swapped it for two of Scarlett’s. The moment it lit, the shower of sparks illuminated my eyes, wide with sheer joy. It also lit up Mom’s face, which was instantly ugly with anger. “Who told you to steal from your sister? I gave you your own—isn’t that enough? You have to be so greedy? You love fireworks so much? Go then—” She shoved me roughly out the back door, forcing my small body toward the field where the large, professional-grade firework mortar was waiting. The firework exploded with a muffled BOOM. When the shrapnel and sparking trails of fire rained down on my stunned body, I suddenly remembered all the years of her so-called “fairness.” The matching apples: Scarlett’s was always crisp and sweet; mine always had a rotten, yellowing core. The identical outfits: mine were always called fake by my classmates, falling apart after a month. A searing pain consumed my body, and I closed my eyes. Mom. I’m dying now. You won’t have to buy two of everything anymore.

1. The instant the fuse was lit, the large firework tube—improperly positioned—tipped and angled toward me. The massive impact of the explosion knocked me flat onto the frozen dirt. At the same moment, the rocket burst open against the inky black sky. A torrent of brilliant, streaking light poured down, reflecting in my eyes. It was like a bigger, more beautiful version of the sparkler I had stolen from Scarlett. The one Mom had snatched away after only a few seconds of light. Scarlett’s eyes were red rimmed, accusing me of taking what was hers. I stood there, clutching my own waterlogged, soggy sparkler. Years of unspoken injury and confusion boiled over. I finally looked up and asked the question that had plagued me for years: “Mom, you said they were exactly the same. So why wouldn’t mine light? Why did Scarlett’s work and mine didn’t? If they’re the same, why couldn’t I swap them?” My answer was the stinging slap of her hand. A flash of exposed shame and embarrassment crossed her face before she erupted. “How can a child be so greedy? I’ve been perfectly fair, but you have bad luck, and now you blame me and your sister?” She glanced at Scarlett’s tear-filled eyes, and her rage intensified. A cold smirk twisted her lips. “You love fireworks so much? Then go light that big one. Don’t come back until it’s finished.” Was I really that greedy? I pondered the question. The brilliant fireworks illuminated a twisted, blackened body on the ground. That body was mine. I was dead. My soul drifted lazily back toward the house. On the second-floor balcony, Scarlett clapped her hands, laughing. “Mommy, Mommy, look!” Scarlett and I grew up in the suburbs, rarely seeing such a spectacular, unobstructed display of fireworks. “Alright, sweetie, time for bed now. It’s getting late. I’ll go warm up your milk.” Mom smiled at Scarlett with a loving, indulgent expression and turned toward the kitchen. She habitually reached for two mugs. Into one, she poured the expensive, organic whole milk. Into the other, she poured the cheapest carton of milk from the back of the fridge, labeled with the “expires soon” sticker. Mom wrinkled her nose, as if the cheap, chalky smell offended her. “Scarlett, come here.” I watched as Mom urged Scarlett to drink the milk quickly. I’m dead now. Mom, you don’t need to prepare two of anything anymore. “Aubrey? Where’s Aubrey?” Nana Ruth, upstairs in the bedroom, called my name. Lately, her health had been failing, and sometimes she couldn’t get out of bed. When we arrived at the cabin for the holiday, Nana had given me a holiday card—it was thicker than Scarlett’s. Mom had immediately frowned and challenged her. “Mother, what is the meaning of this? I give the girls identical cards with identical cash. You’re playing favorites, aren’t you?” The old woman scoffed, gently stroking my hair. “Yes, I gave Aubrey a little extra. What’s the difference? Is it fair if I give them both ten bills, but yours are all ones and hers are all hundreds?” Nana Ruth gave me a big, enveloping hug. Unlike Mom, who always recoiled with a frown whenever I opened my arms toward her. “No, Aubrey. Mommy’s hugs have to be double. One for you, one for your sister. If Scarlett isn’t here, giving one only to you would be unfair.” I didn’t understand then. Why was there no mention of “fairness” when Scarlett demanded kisses and hugs from Mom whenever she felt like it? “Where is Aubrey? Didn’t she say she wanted to see the fireworks? Why isn’t she here?” Nana worried, sitting upright in bed. “She went back to her room a long time ago. Mom, you don’t need to worry about her. She’s too clever for that.” Mom let out a cold laugh, her brow furrowed with deep distaste. “Just moments ago, she was stealing Scarlett’s sparkler. I’ve been so fair to her, and she still isn’t satisfied? She really is just like her father—ungrateful, worthless trash.” 2. A look of pain crossed Nana Ruth’s eyes. She clutched her chest, her voice hoarse. “You can’t just blame the child for everything simply because she happens to look like him.” Floating in the air, my soul felt a missed beat. I remembered the times Mom would take us out. An older woman might look at us, dressed in matching princess dresses, and smile. “You certainly balance the scales, you do. You’ve raised two beautiful girls.” “The younger one favors you. So, the older one must favor her father.” Mom’s smile would vanish instantly. The look she’d turn on me was pure poison. Later, because of a poor grade, Mom was called into the principal’s office. The teacher had looked at Mom and curled her lips into a strange, knowing smirk. “I guessed she was your daughter right away. She has her father’s face, line for line. And her grades are just as hopeless, I see. But she certainly has a beautiful face, doesn’t she? No wonder you dropped out to run off with that man. Beauty is a curse, after all.” Her mocking gaze lingered on Mom. Mom forced a smile, a vein throbbing in her forehead. She dragged me roughly out of the school. A slap made my ears ring. “I’ve always treated you and your sister equally. What have I ever denied you? And this is the report card you bring me?” She squeezed my shoulder, her nails digging into my flesh. I bit my lip, afraid to speak. Compared to my clever, outgoing, and verbally charming sister, I had nothing to offer but my looks. I was always timid and awkward in everything I did. “She has his dirty blood in her veins. No wonder I can’t raise her right.” Mom spat the words out coldly that day. Even as a young child, I sensed something deeply wrong about the “father” figure. I gradually realized that Mom’s constant, subtle targeting and disgust were not my imagination. “Elaine, your father and I tried to stop you back then. You said you chose it. You chose to leave school to work, you chose to have those two children.” I stared at Mom, bewildered. She stood there, fists clenched, her face ashen. It was just like when we first returned to the country cabin, and Mom brought boxes of gifts. The women at the village entrance rolled their eyes, their laughter laced with bitterness. “Old Elaine thinks she’s so successful. Got her body taken and her money stolen, and she’s still strutting around like a queen.” Mom’s forced composure broke, and her shoulders slumped. She fled from their mocking eyes in humiliation. “I know you regret it. You hate him, but the children are innocent.” Nana Ruth coughed violently, her eyes filled with profound sadness. “If you don’t want Aubrey, let her stay with me. There’s no need to torture the child.” “What do you mean, I don’t want her!” Mom couldn’t contain her emotions anymore, her eyes bulging. She shrieked, “Did Scarlett have anything she didn’t? What does she have to complain about? Now she’s resorted to stealing from her sister. I’ve noticed before—when I share things out, her eyes are always glued to Scarlett’s. She is so greedy!” Mom seized upon this, railing against me without mercy. “She is an ungrateful leech, just like her father, disgusting.” “She is still just a child!” Nana Ruth pounded her fist on the nightstand. “Don’t think I don’t know. You buy Scarlett designer clothes for hundreds of dollars, and Aubrey the cheapest junk. Her winter jacket had a huge hole that she taped up with clear packing tape! I tried to fix it for her, but when I took it apart, the filling was nothing but rotting, stinking scraps of feather.” Nana Ruth’s voice choked, as if the memory was too painful. I was stunned. So the clothes weren’t always broken because I was careless or didn’t appreciate them. The itchy, foul-smelling jacket wasn’t because I was unclean. I had secretly touched Scarlett’s puffer coat. It was light and soft, like a cloud. Items that looked identical on the outside were truly different. It wasn’t my imagination. It wasn’t bad luck. And it definitely wasn’t Mom’s mistake. 3. Mom refused to speak to Nana Ruth anymore and simply turned to leave. She walked downstairs and locked the front door, acting as if she finally remembered I was still outside. She called out impatiently toward the yard: “Aubrey, get back inside right now!” Scarlett peered over the railing curiously, pouting. “Is Aubrey mad? We let her light the firework, and it was a giant one.” “Let her sulk. Tell her not to bother coming back.” Mom scoffed, locking the door with a sharp click. “There’s a doghouse in the yard. She’s too clever to actually hurt herself. She won’t die outside. Come on, Scarlett, let’s go up to bed. Don’t worry about her.” She led Scarlett upstairs to their room. My soul quietly floated and settled beside Mom. She was reading a picture book to Scarlett. The warm glow of the bedside lamp bathed her face, making her eyes look soft and gentle. I felt a sense of unfairness. Why did Scarlett get to lie against Mom’s chest and listen to stories? While I was tucked into a tiny, unheated utility closet, sleeping on a cramped cot made of metal scaffolding? In the winter, I had to hug my doll and curl into a tight ball just to stay warm enough to sleep. Now I understood. Mom simply didn’t like me. The “fairness” was a performance for me and for others. When it came to Scarlett, she had her own standard, and Scarlett had privileges. Yet, I still pressed against Mom’s back. Clinging to her warmth with an almost desperate greed. Mom’s bed was so soft. Mom smelled so nice… I was a soul now, transparent and non-corporeal. So why were tears still streaming from my eyes? The next morning, Mom prepared breakfast and called Scarlett to the table. “Where is Aubrey? Isn’t she up yet?” Nana Ruth forced herself out of bed, her tone urgent. “Mother, why aren’t you resting? What are you doing out of bed?” Mom seemed to remember my existence just then. She paused, her eyes clouding with that familiar impatience. “Where could she be? Hiding in a corner to cause a scene. She thinks she can steal and still be in the right. It seems I’ve been too kind to her.” Nana Ruth’s body shook. “Early in the morning, where could Aubrey have gone… She’s not in her room. The bed I made up for her is still untouched.” Nana Ruth murmured, then suddenly noticed a flicker of nervousness in Mom’s expression. She tapped her cane sharply, her face grim. “Elaine, tell me the truth. Where is the child? Did she… did she come home last night?” Nana Ruth asked the last part carefully. Mom shied away from her gaze, answering dismissively. “How should I know? She’s in elementary school. She’s not a toddler.” 4. Nana Ruth was choked with anger. Her breathing became shallow, and she clutched her chest, wheezing violently. Before Mom could offer a casual apology to placate her, Scarlett’s wail cut through the air. “No! This doll isn’t mine!” Scarlett rummaged through her suitcase. She held up a cheap, off-brand bunny doll and cried. “Look how crooked its face is and how messy its fur is! It’s a knock-off. Aubrey must have switched it with mine!” Teary-eyed, she pleaded with Mom. The doll she held was grubby, with a crooked face and a seam that was coming undone. Scarlett tossed it onto the floor in disgust. I desperately waved my hands, wanting to say no, that Scarlett must have packed the wrong one by mistake. But Mom kicked the doll aside and quickly knelt to wipe away Scarlett’s tears. See? They could easily tell the difference between my things and Scarlett’s. That doll was the one Scarlett had demanded when we went to Disney World. It cost almost fifty dollars. Mom paid for it without blinking. It wasn’t until she saw me clutching the hem of her jacket that Mom smiled, a strange, knowing smile, and said: “I’m so sorry, Aubrey, Mommy didn’t bring enough money today. Can I buy you one just like it online in a few days?” My eyes had instantly sparkled with delight. I chirped, “Yes, please!” For many years, I was a fool, happily content with Mom’s alleged “fairness.” “See, Mom? Aubrey is just like her father—disgusting. Was I wrong to say she’s a thief?” Mom seethed, seeing the other smudged dolls in the suitcase. Her face darkened. “How did these get dirty? Was Aubrey responsible for that too?” Scarlett hesitated for a second, then quickly nodded. The truth was, Scarlett had dirtied the dolls herself. It wasn’t the first time she’d falsely accused me. Whenever she made a mistake, she’d shout that I was the one who did it. Mom never cared about my explanations. She only saw Scarlett’s tears. “Worthless brat. She’s just jealous of Scarlett. I’ve been so good to her, and she’s still ungrateful? Why did I have to have an extra child? Why did I have to birth this scourge?” Mom’s words were sharp and hateful. Nana Ruth’s eyes widened, her chest heaving. She looked utterly devastated that such vile words could come from a mother’s mouth. “Fine, fine. You don’t want Aubrey, but I do.” Nana Ruth grabbed her cane and, trembling, headed for the front door. Mom frowned, trying to stop her, but Scarlett wailed again, tripping Mom up. “There, there. Mommy will buy you a few more, okay? Since your sister isn’t here, you can have as many as you want.” Mom gently soothed Scarlett. I couldn’t bear to watch this tender scene anymore. I followed Nana Ruth out into the yard. The wind was strong outside, causing Nana Ruth’s frail body to sway. “Aubrey, my sweet Aubrey—” She called out my name, her voice hoarse, but only the barking of the yard dog responded. She stood in the yard, lost and confused, tears welling in her ancient eyes. “Mom, stop looking! Let her sulk. If she doesn’t want to come back, she can die out there—” Mom’s angry voice drifted from inside the house. Several times before, Scarlett had locked me in a storage room, and Mom always assumed I was just being dramatic. “She must have done something bad and is afraid to come out.” Mom always presumed the worst about me. But now, Nana Ruth was heartbroken for me: “How much pain must this child be in…” She ignored Mom’s protests and insisted on walking outside the yard alone. There was a thin layer of frost on the ground, and Nana Ruth stumbled with every step, yet she refused to slow down. “Aubrey, Aubrey, where are you? Come to your Nana, quick—” She called tirelessly, her voice catching with sobs. “Don’t be afraid, child. Nana will protect you.” I drifted in the air, frantic and helpless. I watched, paralyzed, as Nana Ruth walked toward the empty field where I had set off the firework. Suddenly, she let out a piercing scream and collapsed onto the ground. Right in front of her was my unrecognizable corpse.