CELIA
DISCLAIMER: No sexual activities involving minors. All persons in sexual relations are of legal age.
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"Fuck off, squirt!" said Celia before banging her door in my face, after successfully scheming for my grounding for something I never did, for the hundredth time that month. What a drag...
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When I was born, I suppose the first people I ever saw were the nurse, the doctor who did all that baby juggling doctors do and then my mom. Although it's pretty logical, I can't really tell if that's true, as I don't remember much from the first minute of my life. I am sure it involved a lot of pain, flesh tear and swearing but my head was mostly covered at the time, either flesh or goo or any other disgusting slime out there that babies are covered with when they appear in the world. The definite thing is that the first person to see me after my mom was not my dad, as he was away on business, but Celia, my sister, or should I say adopted sister.
My mom was diagnosed with a reproductive system that was exceedingly hostile to both sperm and child-bearing in general. The uterus was not the correct shape, the rest of her internal reproductive organs not ideal for reproduction either. So, she and my father decided to adopt a child. That child was a beautiful baby girl, Celia. However, when Celia was three and against all odds, I was conceived and actually carried to term when she was four. Doctors prohibited mom from having any other offspring due to huge risks for everyone involved, namely her and the baby, so she got her tubes tied. I was to be the first and only offspring of my parents, genetically-wise. Outside of DNA, both me and Celia were of course indistinguishable as children to the both of them - as how it was supposed to be if the parents are not shitty, and out parents weren't, at the beginning at least. They did a pretty shitty job as we got older, though, if I were to be honest.
Celia was a curious kid when I was born. As time went on and our parents put all their energies into me, she started getting jealous. That put her in the path of instigator of my misery. I don't recall much until I was five, but from then and on I do remember my life as pure hell. The fact that she was curious meant that she was ever-inventive in finding ways to inflict or prolong my misery. She was absolutely brilliant in this. She would concoct schemes that I wouldn't be able to defend against, with the very limited anti-scheming ability of a five-year-old that I possessed. Being nine versus being five is a huge difference, and Celia truly drove that point home again and again.
On the other hand, I adored her. She always got me into trouble, but still, I loved her. For the life of me, I don't know why. I mean, she did treat me like shit. Still, I always wanted to be around her. When she graced me with her presence, she almost always made me regret it. Increasingly so as we got older.
The one time I remember from that age is her birthday. I remember being so eager to give her my present, a flower that I got from our garden. I went to her, said "Happy Birthday Thelia!" and have her the flower, me full of smiles. She did a double take, then took the flower. To my utter surprise and, yes, gut-wrenching dismay, she let it fall to the floor, stepped on it and stormed about face to her room. I remember how crushed I was, just like the flower she stepped on. Mom was livid.
"Celia, come here this instant! I will NOT condone this!" she said.
"Then keep your real child and give your fake one back to where you got me from!" she screamed from her room.
I just cried. Even after so many years, after all that has happened, I can still remember the heartbreak of that moment so vividly. How could she do this? Whatever issues she had, I was... five. And I did it from a place of love. She literally crushed me.
How damn cruel.
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Things didn't look up for Celia. Right before high school, she contracted two viruses in the same time, a bacterial pneumonia and a strand of infectious mononucleosis which combined and resulted in a debilitating case of a long-term pneumonia which hit her everywhere and lasted quite a few months of total suffering. It was a very bad year for Celia, as she lost one school year. I, on the other hand, continued along my studies at school, actually being one of the best students. That had a debilitating effect on our relationship. She now was not only jealous of our parents attention when I was a baby - which in itself was a pretty shitty thing to do, as it wasn't really my fault to begin with -- hell, I was just a baby, I needed their attention! -- but also jealous of the fact that I was healthy and she suffered so long and so much. When she came to, we obviously still had the four-year difference in age but only three-year difference in school, and that basically made her hate my very guts to the bitter end.
That was very unfortunate, at the very least, to me, as I still truly cared for her. I wanted her to be OK, I hated the fact that she suffered. I always tried to cheer her up and do goofy little things for her. She always was very cross to me, at times that bordered on a pretty fucked up behavior. As an example, once that I dared get her what she usually had for breakfast she threw it at my face and screamed for me to "Fuck off! Get out!". I left her room crying, heartbroken once again. Our parents did see that, but never did much about it, as they attributed all that to the illness and the psychological pressure it brought about. The thing is that, she hated my guts and was left unchecked to continue hating my guts. And I was left to be the target of her ire. Shitty parenting at its finest.
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When she entered high school, things started changing for her. As she was one year older than the other kids there, she was more developed. She was a freshman as developed as a sophomore. Plus some of the sophomores where her former harpy friends. All that, plus the fact that she was so damn beautiful, made her one of the most popular girls in school. With all the pent-up rage that she had, she was a true bonafide bitch. Most of all, to me. To say that she made my life a living hell during her high-school years would be the understatement of the century. The shitty thing is that I STILL wanted her presence in my life. I actually understood that I was developing a teen crush for her. I knew that we weren't biologically related, but that fact was irrelevant to my psyche. I was missing her presence all my life, and she was so beautiful, and she treated me like shit. So I started crushing on her. A true Masochist's delight, Like a fucking simp for the ages, an early teen simping debutant. For my bitch of an adopted sister of all things.
Another pretty bad thing with her health occurred when she was a junior. She contracted streptococcus in school, which, combined with her history with pneumonia and a frail set of lungs, made her stay at home for quite a few months that year as well, not having the ability to read as she was truly suffering. That only meant that she, once again, had to skip yet another year in the end. It was the last straw to make her hate her very life, and of course, me more than that. I started high-school when she was sick. By the time she restarted school as a senior, I was a sophomore.
In the meantime, I had developed into a pretty good-looking, well developed, older-looking and pretty strong kid for my age, with an excellent academic record and serious with playing the piano and practicing martial arts. All the while, Celia had wasted two years of her life in sickness-induced misery. No wonder she hated everything.
I still had some left-over feelings for her. She still had the same feelings for me, pure, unadulterated hatred. As two years older than her peers, she was a woman when all the other females where girls, so she was to be the defacto queen of the school. As I soon found out, despite the fact that she was my sister, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with me, at school or anywhere else for that matter. The straw that broke the camel's back was when Mom told her to drive me to school right on the very first day.
"Not no, but FUCK NO! I won't drive him to school! He can get his own transportation! He ain't showin' his fucking face in my car!" she vehemently said.
"How dare you, Celia!!! He is your brother! How can you talk like that about him!" said my mother, extremely pissed.
"If you don't like it, you know what to do!" Celia screamed.
They were still getting at it when I talked.
"Mom"
They were still arguing.
"MOM."
