The Vampire Lord Wants My Blood

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die. Mine didn't. The only thing that was on my mind as I stood on the bridge was the last three years. The constant pain and humiliation.

My name is Sarah and I am eighteen years old. I was supposed to be a success story. My parents had told me so since I was old enough to hold a textbook. "Be better than us, Sarah. Get into an Ivy League. Don't be a failure."

Ever since I had been old enough to understand the concept of failure, I have been so scared of it.

My older brother, James, has been the golden child. He went through life on scholarships and sport offers. He was the life of our family. He was the one they talked about at dinner parties. I was the one they introduced quickly then changed the subject. I was the one who studied until 3 AM and still only managed A-minuses which in our house was the same as a D.

The pressure wasn't just from the schoolwork though. That was the least of it. It was the unfair bullying. It started online as a joke by my loser ex-boyfriend and his jerk friends. They capitalized on things like my anxiety, my tendency to stutter when nervous and my insecurity over my plain face. They made memes out of my school ID picture. They started a hashtag that trended through the whole region for a full week. They called me "The Ghost of the Library."

My parents didn't even help when I told them. They said, "Just turn off your phone, Sarah. Focus on your future. This is what weakness looks like." They never asked if I was okay. They never saw the dark circles under my eyes. They just saw someone who was unnecessarily sensitive, not a daughter who needed saving.

The final straw came last night. I had spent two weeks working on a research paper which was on a complex analysis of socio-economic disparity in modern cities. I poured everything I had into it. I needed an A+. I was desperate for it and I prayed to whichever God would care to listen. In the end, I got a B+. When I showed it to my father, he didn't even read the teacher's comments. All he saw was the B.

"B+?" he'd asked, his voice flat, devoid of anger, which was somehow worse than shouting. "James got an A+ on his first paper. This is not good enough, Sarah. You are wasting the opportunity we gave you."

My mother on the other hand had just sighed, turning back to the sink. "Your father is right. Try harder."

How hard do I have to try for them to realize that it was my hardest? When will they stop comparing me to my brother?

That was it. That was the end of the line. There was just an empty space where hope used