Stella the Unwanted.

Chapter 1

I never wanted a sister. I remember the very day my parents broke the news to me , and I was about 3 years old. I was sitting on the kitchen stool coloring with my crayon set. At that age ,that was my prized possession my bright pink crayon box , and inside held my multi-colored Crayola crayon set. I was doodling what I think was a butterfly, and dreaming about random 3-year-old things. Life was good and all that mattered was coloring and princesses. I was a spunky little coloring mess. I took my appearance from my father, and I get that all the time. I have his bright dirty blonde hair and his piercing hazel eyes. I took absolutely nothing from my mother who had dark brown hair with the most blueish eyes I've ever seen. I was coloring quietly humming a tune , until both my parents came into the kitchen. I could tell it was something serious, because of the way they looked at me as if I were the judge and my final approval mattered more than anything. I looked up from my butterfly with a smile spread across my face , because I thought this had to be some joke.

"Are you hiding a present Daddy", I giggled resting my pudgy fists onto my tiny hips.

"It depends Fiona-Biona", he said pinching my chunky cheeks.

"It is a very special present", my mom said rubbing her belly. One thing that amazes me about my mother is her elegance ever since a young age. I always noticed how graceful and elegant she did everything. I saw her as this beautiful figure and someone I wanted to be when I was older. At this point, my mom and dad reunited clasping each other's hands and were looking directly at me. With the biggest smiles. I was happy because they were happy. I stood up on the stool with my knees in the butt of the seat clapping my hands together.

"What is it Mommy and Daddy", I shrieked in a happy tone. My hair was a tangled mess and I was a walking rainbow. I remember on that day wearing my bright pink tights, rainbow tutu, and kitty shirt. The tutu was a must for me (it was a dress-myself faze).

"You're going to have a little sister Fiona", they yelled with vibrant energy.

I didn't know how to react. My face flushed and I quickly remembered the incident at the park earlier that day. My dad was at work, but my mom was home so she decided to treat me with a day at the park. I loved the park the slides, monkey bars, and play area. As I was swinging on the swings at the park. I noticed two sisters fighting over a doll, they were older than me maybe around 7. I had noticed earlier that the doll was clearly the older sister's doll, but the younger one wanted it.To take it. To steal it. I associated those thoughts and words with the situation. The mother quickly came to the scene of her fighting daughters and yanked the doll from the older sister , and handed it to the younger sibling. I was shocked and stunned because this wasn't fair this was evil in my eyes. The mom later treated the younger one to ice cream and let the poor older sister crying and dusty. The older sister got dusty because they were tugging the doll in the sandbox the mother's yank threw the girl to fall into the sand.

I couldn't believe this and this was engraved into my memory. I watched this event unfold and it traumatized the hell out of me , not because I was a brainless 3-year-old. This traumatized me because I couldn't believe your mother who you love and trust so much , would do such a thing. Not my mother , not any mother. Your mother was supposed to be on your side, and the only logical explanation for this treatment was her younger sister. The only reason the older sister was alone and had no one to talk to. The only reason she was balling her eyes out no doll ,no ice cream ,no nothing. After watching that I jumped off the swing and ran into my mother's lap. She was surprised , but quickly caught on while she followed my deep gaze.

"She just left her alone Mommy", I said gripping her legs while in her lap.

"Not necessarily Fiona", my mom said with a concerned look on her face.