I have always hated my sister, Krystal, with a passion. It was not for her looks – we looked alike, the uncanny resemblance had made many assume that we were twins. No, it was the fact that I was jealous of the attention she received from our mother.

In fact, Krystal has a minor flaw in her perfect exterior – her slight limp that marred the perfection she always wished to exude, but it was this imperfection that got my mother’s attention. Her limp represented her weakness, something that our mother would always want to cover up, to keep Krystal protected under her wing.