"Poor little Maisie who didn't get chosen by anyone. Poor little Maisie left behind to rot as a maid. Poor, little orphan. It's the perfect sob story, isn't it? The perfect excuse to try to steal my life because you just cannot stand to see me happy."
My eyes stung. My throat closed. My fingers curled and ripped into the tiles under me. "Lana," a choked whisper escaped me.
"You couldn't just let me have it. You couldn't just be the maid. You couldn't just lower your head and disappear. You have to take the spotlight, even when you have nothing, even when you are nothing."
She stopped and breathed. "You know, I used to feel guilty. About the way things turned out. About where you ended up. And then I realised Mom and Dad worked themselves to death for both of us. And one of us made something of it." She tilted her head. "I think if they could see us right now, they'd finally understand which one of us was worth the sacrifice. And which one of us should've died with them."
